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  • Rookie - 0 Points Yusuf Qomor Olusola (6/7/2013 9:36:00 AM) Post reply
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    The Potential Danger


    Prior to the destination along a loading bay
    Where rested a long exuberant wheel
    Moving high on a high way
    With four basements as a standing steel
    A stirring as a controlling blue-ray
    Fuel, as disgusting heavenly sea
    Oil, superior but inferior erosion
    Auxiliary to an already-completed benediction
    Green and white, a distinctive bellowing rendition
    Gallop and steady, of Economy, a potential acceleration

    So truss a fellow!
    Encase in a rickety basin of mediocrity
    For epilepsy to bones has worn him
    Eternal blindness has taken over him
    He is an epitome of epidemics
    A world-weary figure of leprosy
    Projecting him an embodiment of paralysis
    yet of the said wheel, a driver to be

    will the wheel be wheeled to the willing destination?
    Will there be a compromise and not commotion?
    Will the passengers be treated with justification?
    Will the Government not be divided among the nation?

  • Rookie Julianna Mcleod (6/6/2013 10:21:00 AM) Post reply

    Does anyone want to check out my poems and comment on what you think and what I can do better?There's always room for change! ... unless your locked in a tight box... try putting skinny jeanse on in there: P lol I'm just kidding hahaha

  • Rookie Abdu Musa (6/1/2013 6:02:00 PM) Post reply

    A Little Prospect

    I was here to let my emotion go out
    Through the the pipe of poetry art
    So, I started hitting the keyboard
    But, as reluctant was my mind,
    Nothing happened except a little prospect

  • Rookie - 19 Points Savannah Oakes (5/30/2013 11:08:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    If I Had Ten More Minutes

    If I had ten more minutes
    and my voice was not faint
    nor my face so devoid
    or my mind so blank,
    I would profess—

    But I'm afraid of words
    which might betray lips,
    For what is kept
    is of my eyes—
    that impulsive organ
    I've attempted to stray;
    hooded, hazed.

    Construing a montage
    ever playing:
    concerns, worries
    fears, and doubts,
    Come to life
    in bursting light
    whilst straining in the dark.

    And if such creations
    could speak—
    or better
    could be heard—
    through the mist of passion
    And masks of pride,

    I would profess
    All in my heart;
    Every quaint murmur
    Forsaken night and night.

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  • Rookie - 0 Points Yusuf Qomor Olusola (5/29/2013 4:39:00 PM) Post reply

    The PoemHunter

    The Internet refuses to open the site’s gate
    Appealing to heaven where all returns shall be made
    My way, with ease, was made
    Browsing through the yard
    I realize I’ve been to the elite world
    The page within the gate seems to be red
    Not for blood nor suppression of my zest
    But for creativities of people shining on their golden pen
    Registered as a new member
    I realize it is The PoemHunter

    How I wish I’d known you earlier than this!
    You ignite my dying memory
    And rejuvenate all my passions for poetry
    A radiant of recognition fly onto my soul
    My seeming-dead Literary works are back and glow
    All in the course of joining The PoemHunter

    Hadn’t been the divine creativity of some creatures
    Heaven would’ve agitated against the buried creativities
    And claimed back the world to revive the neglected talents
    Many would’ve not known to any
    If anyone hasn’t created any
    Dishing out the truth can never kill the world
    Denying it will rather upset the heaven
    Talking of not just a site
    Then, one of them is The PoemHunter

    The site is a competitive Arena
    Where all the gladiators engage
    In an endless combat of intellectualism
    Creativities dwell in everyone’s soul
    And this caused the congestion of creativities
    Lion preys upon lion
    When every poet, on this field, is a lion
    Crier fails to pet crier
    When everyone, for fame, is a crier
    Many poems are left without comments
    When in this room, there is diversity of ideology
    Callous are every poet here
    Since my poor poems haven’t gained their attention
    Meeting you on this battle field
    I bid kudos to The PoemHunter

  • Rookie - 0 Points Yusuf Qomor Olusola (5/28/2013 7:19:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    The Dignity of A Lady


    East, a loathed enemy
    Does not conform to the West
    Digressed but evasive he claims
    Reluctant she feels
    Shedding shallow shame like water from duck-backs
    For superiority not of her
    But they are almost the same source of rivers
    Having crawled over my dreams

    Nevertheless, I hold you tight… then sticks
    Against extraneous and divine bags of tricks
    That serves nothing but lust and jinx
    Here comes the guy you hit with sticks
    Reciprocate with tragic but nuptial rings
    All to embrace truce and unity
    And set a chain of one entity
    Wish you'd come to elevate my sanctity
    And make one figure a twenty
    So I might be holy and praiseworthy
    Then, fill with solace and tenacity

    Hide here! Hide your NECTAR
    For here is the sanctuary
    That prevents tsetse flies
    From humiliating your FILAMENTS
    And your foliage, pearled by the dew
    Please come forth!
    And let us sleep now

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    • Rookie - 0 Points Megan Coker (5/29/2013 5:02:00 PM) Post reply

      I really like this poem. which is awesome because I have read a lot of poetry online and the majority of it is drivel.

  • Rookie Caitlin Jade (5/22/2013 4:51:00 AM) Post reply

    A male vistor with the features of a man but different eyes
    grabs my mind and consumes it with every word which posions my mind
    a good person but hiding in the shadow is his disguise,
    when cutting myself is the only thing he assigned

    take the blade in your hand and slowly drag it down your arm
    watch yourself bleed till your arm starts to burn like the fire
    till suddenly you feel the connection and disarm
    the pain in my arm and head shot up like a wire

    no tears fell from my eyes no sorrow made me cry
    the emotions i feel are nothing more than what they tell me
    emptiness deadness and blank grey sky
    cause the feeling is dead as they watch you bleed.

  • Rookie Caitlin Jade (5/21/2013 7:26:00 PM) Post reply

    The voices in your head send me falling to the ground
    the stares burn darkness into my soul and i cant be found
    the moments the bring me down cause endless pain
    the endless roller coaster i can never get off and will never gain

    the waves crash on me the sun burns me down
    but i still go out and touch the waves
    the amount od trying keeps you going keeping you safe and sound
    but ends up keeping me hurt lost in the darkest caves.

    the person out there they all believe in where is he for me
    why the moments i need it the most you are never there
    the feelings of belief stops coming when prayers are never seen
    sometimes i stop fighting just cause i feel scared.

  • Rookie Mosaic Poet (5/21/2013 6:23:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi,
    I'm new here and would appreciate comments.


    Steps to Losing Normal

    1

    “I don’t want to be here again.”
    She gazes through the floor-to-ceiling window,
    Her mind wandering the stone paths
    Of the Meditation Garden—collecting
    New spring blossoms—until the pager buzzes,
    An urgent summons: Go through the double doors;
    Submit to the humiliation of surgery preparation.

    2

    “I don’t know if I can fix this.”
    The words follow her, chasing her
    Down into the darkness—baying hounds
    Threatening her destruction—as her
    Lifeblood pours from her body,
    An ulcer draining her away,
    Plunging her into nothingness.

    3

    “You are not healed yet.”
    One by one his words fall
    Into her lap like rocks—
    A landslide of hard gray balls
    Crushing her beneath the weight
    Of the inescapable name
    “Patient.”

    ©TheMosaicPoet

  • Rookie - 111 Points Roger Horsch (5/17/2013 11:07:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Wisdom is Her Name
    by Roger Horsch

    Does not wisdom call out her name
    On our paths along the way?
    That's why we should listen really hard
    For she has things of worth to say.

    And, at the point where our paths should meet
    Is where she'll take her stand
    She can lead us into the city of gold
    If we would only take her hand.

    Her voice speaks of understanding
    And her mouth speaks of what is true
    That if we listen to the knowledge she gives
    We will know just what to do.

    She was there when He set the heavens in place
    And the foundations of the earth
    For all the words of her mouth were just
    From the day of mankind's birth.

    So, if you seek you'll find her
    And your life won't be the same
    For you'll always find favor from the Lord
    'Cause, Wisdom is her name.

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