Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Comments about Is It Poetry

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  • Amir Mohammad Islami Chalandar (6/6/2014 7:18:00 AM)

    excellent poems. you are great in explaining your feels. i invite you to read my poem

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Richard Beevor (5/8/2014 4:20:00 AM)

    excellent poem, I believed I walked those woods with you

  • Kera Bashline (11/22/2013 11:08:00 AM)

    It's an honor that you read my work thank you so much. I hope you read more and that you like it.

  • Faeo Lyre Clive (7/28/2013 4:18:00 PM)

    A man for whom living is thinking. Fitted to exist in himself and not in another. Out of abundance of the heart, your poetry speaks. I believe I may understand that the learned man always has riches. Kudos, Bard.

  • Chris Leermakers (4/22/2013 6:38:00 PM)

    Great Poems All Round. And Thankyou For Your
    Positive Feedback On My Poetry. Cheers, Chris.

  • This Is Not A Poem (9/7/2011 10:04:00 PM)

    You are amazing. I thank you for existing. I live in a glass house and am unable to write the truth as you do. One day... :)

  • Inner Whispers (9/4/2011 7:02:00 PM)

    hmn...top 49 poet....an honor i had a chance to be read by you....salute to you!

  • Alisha Lopej (4/28/2011 1:10:00 AM)

    Nice. Reactive attachment disorder, symbolizes a severe psychological syndrome that starts developing in a child during his age of the infancy.
    http: //www.disorderscentral.com/reactive-attachment-disorder.html

  • Liyo Denorte (5/13/2010 10:35:00 AM)

    now it dawns on me,
    u have the boldness and spontaneity of Kerouac

    i salute u for that

  • Faeo Lyre Clive (4/30/2010 1:20:00 AM)

    I hate the situation whereby no love is painted, no hardwork appreciated.
    Dear
    you're a joy to the literati
    only time will unveil thy greatness.
    Keep on trying for thy epoch is making.
    Bravo!
    More grease to your elbows.

C*Taking Turns *

Short of wind your breath belies
the dragging of your heal in
dust we trust.

Sweat dried sand to face
scoured fresh blush the
wind has made
to know.

Wind lifts my arms to take
from you this gift is
precious so.

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