(5/7/2008 3:59:00 PM)
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.
(5/5/2008 11:03:00 AM)
maybe, you are too winter.
like the drifts inside me,
and the snatches of a snowdrift.
but of course,
..there are more.
(5/4/2008 10:55:00 AM)
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
it just doesn't
i should hate you more
and not love you
but i cannot
(4/30/2008 4:20:00 PM)
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.
(4/29/2008 8:41:00 PM)
+++ '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:
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………! ! !
Vincent James Turner
(4/24/2008 10:34:00 AM)
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.
(4/20/2008 3:15:00 PM)
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.
(4/19/2008 5:41:00 PM)
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.
(4/18/2008 6:48:00 PM)
| 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
(4/16/2008 5:43:00 PM)
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.