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  • Tiffany Baldwin (12/18/2012 11:11:00 PM) Post reply

    HI. I just added my newest write. It is called " The Feeling Within" .., if you have time I have very few poems but if you would like to read and comment on them you are more than welcome. I love feedback. I am new at this and it actually helps motivate me in a way.

    " The Feeling Within"

    I wish I could tell you what I feel when I am around anyone but me.

    Its true... I feel every emotion they are feeling, at that moment you see.

    I must say at times it is amazing, other peoples emotions dancing through my skin,

    The love, the excitement, the comforting energy that flows deep within.

    But, I am here to write for a reason, to let all the pain inside out,

    If not for my words to write you see, i'd be lost without a doubt.

    I feel like I am lost, lost somewhere mixed in with all of you,

    I can no longer tell which are mine anymore, which emotions are really true.

    There are not enough words in my vocabulary to describe what your feelings are doing to me,

    I wish you could keep them to yourself sometimes, stay out of my bubble and allow me to be.

    I won't blame you, because I know, that it is completely out of your hands,

    This is something that I would never wish for.. It was never a part of my plans.

    It's not only the joy and love inside of anyone who comes close to me,

    There's also the fear, the hurt, and the pain, I'm ready to run and flee.

    I feel it all from good to bad, I need to learn how to turn it down,

    For fear of my own emotions getting lost, they are quickly beginning to drown.

    Thank you for any feedback in advance!

  • Julianna O'bar (12/18/2012 10:14:00 PM) Post reply

    I would appreciate any advice or constructive critisism on my poem that you can give. Thank you!


    We Write On

    We've been scolded, scorned, warned,
    Yet, still, we write on.

    We've been beaten, whipped, tortured,
    Yet, still, we write on.

    We've been rounded up, jailed, exiled,
    Yet, still, we write on.
    " Why continue?" We're often asked.
    " Why punish yourself with the pen?"

    " You know you'll be scolded or beaten or jailed,
    " So why press on and face the consequences?"

    The answer lies not in the words we write,
    But in the life they give us.

    Who doesn't want immortality?
    Greater men have died for it.

    Those who write the truth, no matter the cost,
    Will live in his words until the world ends.

    So, for as long as there are the pen and paper,
    We will always write on

  • Makayla Johnson (12/18/2012 4:08:00 PM) Post reply

    I would very much like it if someone could critique my poem. It's always good to know what I can improve on.


    What Is Life?

    What is life?
    Fire light,
    a question asked,
    a layered mask
    of fear and thought and love,
    of the dove
    the one that flies
    asking whys
    as it glides on broken wings.

    Oh, he sings,
    and it rings
    and it lingers in the air
    past the fair
    golden hair of a lion.
    And he's cryin'
    and he's livin' for the kill
    and the spill
    of the blood.

    A bleeding flood
    seeping down
    past the frown
    upon the face
    of a women dressed in lace,
    of the chase of the land
    in the sand
    waterfall
    leaping, dying all
    a rusty red.

    In my head,
    oh the light
    in the eyes of the life
    always fight for the everlasting will!
    Makes no sence, take the pill
    brings a sail of golden hope
    to be crushed, washed with soap,
    clean and dead.

    Oh the river's full of lead,
    dark and flowing
    poison glowing,
    specked with gold
    in the mold
    sold for life
    but worth nothing, strife
    is what it brings.

    And still he sings!
    The broken dove
    who brings love,
    and tears away
    another day
    we will die
    and leap through the sky
    to an abyss,
    to the mist.
    to the lost and the forgotten,
    the spoiled and the rotten
    underground.

    Never found,
    never thought,
    life has left and sought
    out newer, better forms
    in the empty,
    never tempt me
    to burn again.

    Put out by rain,
    I've been slain by the knife.

    What is life?

  • Madhuparna Chakraborty (12/17/2012 7:42:00 AM) Post reply

    any criticism and revision on this piece will be appreciated...


    Chance

    A tap on the shoulders recklessly
    tempting are the stranger paths,
    fate beckons that intrepid adventurer in me.

    As i peep into the realms unknown,
    worthy soul is wooed and the quest begins.
    Twin spirits of Romance and Adventure is sown.

    Pray! Engage with wit and verve it said,
    into this enigma called Romance,
    aimlessly and uncalculatingly forging ahead.

    Seek perils, seek mystery, the clues of adventure,
    and all that is slipped into your fingers.
    Nay, not for fame or crown, name or treasures.

    And then, perchance, you will see,
    splendid figures seeking the golden fleece
    was specious in its entirety.

  • Sarah Mohyla (12/15/2012 2:12:00 PM) Post reply

    Hey I just uploaded some new poems and i'd love if you could read them and post your comments! I'd love your advice!

  • Anneabeth Writer (12/15/2012 7:15:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    My name is Anna Writer. I write many poems and stories.
    My Christmas themed poem " Christmas it Be" , is about the loss of a loved one during the Christmas season.
    I would appreciate any comments and reviews. Thank you.

    " Christmas it Be"
    Thick snow falls from the sky,
    But no one cries for the man who did die.
    He is forgotten, it is too sad to see,
    After all, Christmas it be.

    Let the bells ring and the carollers sing!
    Deck the halls and flock the malls.
    Load your arms with gifts and lift;
    The spirits of your fellow man!
    Don't dare think of how it all began…

    Occupy your mind with thoughts of meats and sweets!
    Of presents yet to come,
    Sweet plums and noisy drums,
    Anything to drown out the screaming in your mind,
    You try and find silence and prey for some kind of kindness.
    You look to mankind, him, her and me;
    After all, Christmas it be.

    Forget your woes when water froze,
    He will no longer bear upon your mind
    You've left his memory long behind.
    He is forgotten, it is too sad to see,
    After all, Christmas it be.

    Replies for this message:
    • Freda Copeland (12/29/2012 9:38:00 AM) Post reply

      I thought it was very good. I love the evasiveness and not a slap you in the face rememberance.

  • Austin Straussfield (12/14/2012 7:56:00 AM) Post reply

    Check this out peeps, though a little rough...your advice and criticism is would go a long way to smoothen my writings...
    Quietly bending my pride,
    for you to become my bride
    so as to have a smooth ride
    till a child comes our way.
    Take this not as dried
    or too crunchy fried.
    But rather be mild,
    and see me as wild
    with no where to hide
    'trying to pass the tide
    created by your dad...'

  • Anneabeth Writer (12/9/2012 11:58:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    My name is Anna Writer. I write poems, stories and more.

    I call this poem " Blame" . I was upset at the time and angry. I wished it hadn't had died, and yet at the same time I knew it was my fault he died.
    Post any comments here and on my comment section of my profile. I would love to hear your impressions and thoughts on it. Also I have many other poems posted on this site so you might like to check them out as well.

    " Blame"
    Burning tears run down my cheeks,
    As they have for many weeks.
    This thing is dead,
    My mother said.
    This thing is spent,
    A so-called unfortunate event.
    But who's to blame
    Who will dare claim
    They slain and shamed their name?
    Confess to your crimes!
    We can connect the times!
    We know you have no alibi!
    Don't try to say goodbye or pacify!
    We are sure to gratify,
    Our lust for blood!
    Those tears that came in a flood,
    Bringing with it dirty, filthy mud!
    Your tears are lies!
    Do you really care if it dies?
    Those tears in your eyes, are lies!
    There will never be blue skies,
    Don't dare devise a disguise!
    You can not hide,
    You did not care it died!
    You have too much pride to admit that it was your collide!
    You cannot deny!
    You are the bad guy!
    It all went awry!
    It was your fault it died!

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  • Nkosana Mpofu (12/3/2012 3:21:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi poets, poetry lovers and writers - I have posted 2 poems on this site namely; African sunset and Transitions: A hobo's view. Please may I ask you to read, critique and rate these pieces and I will do the same to your work.

    Thank you - happy reading.

  • Riffat Samad (12/3/2012 4:41:00 AM) Post reply

    Spring Evening Chant

    Let the breeze blow,
    Let the river flow,
    In the spring evening
    Let the moon come slow.

    The music of the fallen leaves around
    Or when they rolling on the forest ground,
    Does it remind you the song
    I've sung in a whispering sound?

    The bird comes back to its nest,
    And the sun sets down in the west,
    The wrapper of the sky is disappeared,
    Still I find in my mind unrest.

    Let the breeze blow inside our mind's hollow,
    Let the river flow and carry our heart's sorrow,
    In the spring evening
    Let the moon pass its way slow.

    (Please inform me your impression if you read my poem.)

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