Treasure Island

Writing Poetry

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  • Joe Hadley (5/7/2008 3:59:00 PM) Post reply

    I know it’s hard to tell,
    How mixed up you feel.
    Hoping what you need is behind the door.
    Each time you hurt,
    I don’t want you to change.
    You’re human after all.
    Wishing you was someone else.
    Feeling as though, you never belong.
    This feeling is not sadness, nor joy.
    I understand, please don’t cry.
    Please don’t go, don’t leave here.
    I don’t want you to hate.
    For all the hurt you have taken.
    The world is just an illusion,
    Trying to change who you are,
    Being you is something else.
    This is something else.
    Who would comprehend?
    For those who declare divine purpose.
    For those who have bonded their souls to the afterlife.
    I know to us the world is different.
    As we are to the world.
    But you don’t realize this.
    I don’t want you to suffer from this illusion
    Please don’t go I want you to stay.
    I don’t want you to change.
    This world is just an illusion.
    Trying to change you.

  • Swarnadeep Chatterjee (5/5/2008 11:03:00 AM) Post reply

    maybe, you are too winter.
    like the drifts inside me,
    and the snatches of a snowdrift.
    but of course,
    ..there are more.

  • Pchy Pie (5/4/2008 10:55:00 AM) Post reply

    my first published poem...(be nice)

    To Hate You

    i hate you
    i hate you with the intensity of a bomb exploding
    i hate you
    i hate you with all of my being
    i hate you most because despite that
    i still have love for you
    i hate myself more
    i hate myself more because i still love you
    how can one person feel both at the same time
    it is preposterous
    its unthinkable
    it just doesn't
    feel right
    i should hate you more
    and not love you
    i should

    but i cannot
    i cannot...

  • Aden orie Rookie - 1st Stage (4/30/2008 4:20:00 PM) Post reply

    I wish that favours were returned

    i open doors for them,
    they slam them in my face,
    sometimes i get angry,
    but allways open doors,
    its turning me into someone,
    that i dont want to be,
    all these days opening doors,
    and what have they done for me.

  • Trade Martin Rookie - 1st Stage (4/29/2008 8:41:00 PM) Post reply

    +++ 'PRIZE ](WIN A FINE CD) [ FOR YOUR BEST TITLE OF MY POEM' ++****************************************************************************************]]]+++

    Please submit your title in the comment section below....., the title I choose for this poem will receive a new copy of my B.B. King Tribute CD in the mail from me....., this tribute CD is also for sale on AMAZON.COM.

    I will announce the winner's name and the title I've picked in a few weeks, get the proper address of the winner, and send the CD prize. I will also give full name credit for the chosen title, whenever or wherever my poem is listed in the future.

    Thanks & good luck. Best regards, Trade Martin.

    My website is:

    (My poem)

    Envision an oblique picture…….,
    Etched inside a tired brain…….,
    While breezes whisper proudly……..,
    In the glow of a thriving abyss……,
    Dreams merely vague suggestions…….,
    Of dissipating clouds that are revealed……,
    With an echo of hope……,
    That consistently reverberates ……,
    A passionate message……,
    Of scientific silence………! ! !

    …..Trade Martin,2008.

  • Vincent James Turner Rookie - 1st Stage (4/24/2008 10:34:00 AM) Post reply

    As One Would A Loved Pet

    Put me down like a dog I’ve got a family who’ll pay.
    Place me gently on the table; let me go my own way.

    Dogs and cats have rights far greater than I
    They can piss in the street; loved ones help them to die?

    My own furry friend crippled by a drunk driver
    Crushed his hind legs, squashed his little liver.

    All I want is a nice leggy nurse to stroke my brow
    And if I had one, I’d want her to tenderly hold my tail

    There is a fly it darts in and out of my open window
    Winter is approaching; I wonder who will be first to go

    Piss smells bad, death and disinfectant is far worse
    Just as destroying is the smiling hyperactive nurse

    She handles my parts as though they were her own
    Pulling back skin, cleaning my cracks with hands that roam

    Over this limp pale body, confined to a stiff white bed
    Whilst she sighs sympathetically cooling my head

    Forget the care; this horse has been long flogged
    Just give to me what you’d give to your Dog.

    An end to the suffering, terminate the black within
    A simple swift needle then let the end begin.

  • kdkjbhd nkzdhvlikhs Rookie - 1st Stage (4/20/2008 3:15:00 PM) Post reply


    I walk the path of notice,
    in which looking for meaning.
    walls all around me,
    have trapped me since the beginning.

    And when I realize the glinting eyes,
    my soul sobs and oceans arise.

  • Paul Butters Rookie - 1st Stage (4/19/2008 5:41:00 PM) Post reply

    When I was at school and college I was encouraged to 'skim read' for efficiency to get through lots of books (for exams.) . Frankly I did NOT develop this skill very much. Indeed my reading speed was slower than the slowest on the scale (yet full marks for 'comprehension') . Could never stop reading with my 'Inner Voice'. Now then, the experts say 'reading aloud' like this is actually 'Vocalisation'. Yet I can use this 'voice' to read in any way: to sound like any actor or actress etc., or to sing or play music. Can reproduce any sound I can remember. Surely much more than 'vocalising'. Maybe we should all stop skimming and make full use of our inward voices. The 'voice' in poetry is most important.

  • William Luo Rookie - 1st Stage (4/18/2008 6:48:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    what do you think of my poem?

    The light taping of the snow above
    She awakes to a blurry vision
    A soft smile to the binding warmth
    And looks out to the frosty adhesion.

    Through the raging silent winds
    Each breath the white world bloom
    Slowly the snow will settle
    And start again to the audience of the moon.

    Appear in a distance a shroud of cold
    Stepping into a windy clearing
    The shredding ice bashing about
    Small life struggles in its bearing.

    Strangled by the grip of moisture
    The frail stem strive to hold
    As leaves and petals in fear they flutter
    Rolling gusts diminishes its mourn.

    And then the earth fell, twisting and turning
    A moment gone, a darkened face
    The feeling of calmness and security
    No longer moving but moving with haste

    The white lily linger at the window sill
    Dripping leaves tears of gratitude it weeps
    Both hearts beating, she sighs
    Snuggled in covers back into sleep.

    by william luo

    Replies for this message:
    • Paul Butters Rookie - 1st Stage (4/19/2008 6:02:00 PM) Post reply

      I like the atmosphere and imagery of this and the more I look, the more I see. Well written. Worth you checking your original though because the title looks wrong (not come thru right) . Cheers. Paul.

  • Jared Ashby Rookie - 1st Stage (4/16/2008 5:43:00 PM) Post reply

    Ever want someone to banter around poetic messages upon the faults of our world with? I'd be happy tho philosophize with someone if you feel up for it.

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