(4/17/2013 8:28:00 AM)
Hello friends, would you say, if you understand the following, which a few bugs and how authentic it sounds, thanks.
What people know, what people know
about a road out of the blue snow.
Oh bro, some say: it's, where the wind always blows,
where Dawn is slow, and it seems now -
it was a long-long time ago.
But in the ghostly mist the lonely star calls go.
What people see, what people see, -
boat leaves the endless empty sea.
His flags dissolved in smoke like passing fantasy.
But even, if in ecstasy,
he confidently promised,
you always knew - the germ is only where the seed.
What people need, what people need,
does not know even the free wind.
And those, who sought, wandered while doing it.
But even our little band also prefers the happy end.
Playing the saw for you we have this country beat.
When all your dealings super good,
sheep eaten by wolves in the woods,
and when now doesn't happens every bullshit,
train rides between the angry clouds,
and all of what you'll never know,
remained in place, you will not see until the need.
(4/17/2013 5:56:00 AM)
How could I love love, if love has never loved me. I am in bed alone and I cannot sleep, I am just fixing my memories by changing reality. El amor siempre Es rojo, y el cielo es muy palido.... Pero yo deseo verles por deseo y no antojo.
(4/17/2013 1:48:00 AM)
pernahkah kamu memandangi hujan, dan merasa ia tak kunjung pergi?
(4/16/2013 5:45:00 PM)
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I needs some help I have to write a sonnet for my English 102 class and I can't get meter to save my life. I'm hoping one of you fine folks will help me out. Here is my poem, feel free to rip it to shreds.
What Will It Be?
“What will it be Mac?” The bartender asks.
I sit and ponder while I draw on my cigar,
So many choices are there from his flasks.
They range from the mundane to the bizarre.
Do I fancy a Merlot from France,
Or fine scotch from the Highland,
Perhaps I should leave up to chance,
Or tea from long-island.
Shall I chase the green fairy,
Or wait for the white lightning to strike?
If I do things could get hairy,
I can think of nothing I’d dislike.
I sense that the answer is near,
I’ll have one whiskey, one bourbon, one beerReplies for this message:
(5/26/2013 11:56:00 AM)
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I love this stuff and was taught by professor who wrote this and grew up with it. I loved teaching it. Using know what you've been taught about metric and the sooner form (English sonnet in your poem) ... more
Rose Of Atthis
(4/22/2013 11:50:00 AM)
Lance this has the making of a very good poem, pleas give this a month of thought and then return with improvements
(4/16/2013 11:00:00 PM)
Lance....I love this piece, ...good job. I almost hate to even be so bold as mess with it, but since you asked for tips on getting the meter to play out I gave it a go. Just my take on a different ... more
- James Kastner (5/26/2013 11:56:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply
(4/13/2013 12:28:00 AM)
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(A question! ! !)
What is the status of awarding 10++++++ in the comment box, and not casting vote in the right column?or praising high while not casting a vote
means contradiction in our judgement of poetry?Replies for this message:
Ace Of Black Hearts
(10/29/2013 9:03:00 PM)
My opinion is that either is a good sign, because if they are commenting or voting, it means they read your poem. Though sometimes I think we lack the willingness to critique, when some of us have th ... more
(4/13/2013 4:48:00 AM)
To me it doesnt matter, either one is great to have maybe because when you drop the comment you have to reload the page before give it marks ...anyway we cant ask people to do all as long they fee ... more
(4/13/2013 1:56:00 AM)
People don't tend follow rules, and when they do, not completely. Somtimes the rules aren't completely understood. I only have time to read a small portion of the poems coming into this site. Of wh ... more
- Ace Of Black Hearts (10/29/2013 9:03:00 PM) Post reply
(4/11/2013 3:30:00 PM)
I see you in the sunlight
where the crimson sun will set.
Your face shines in the sunlight
so bright, so clear, so nice.
your eyes twinkle like stars
I stop and look at them twice.
Your voice is like the wind
so sweet, cool, and soothing
whenever I hear it, my heart starts moving
I see you in the sunset
where all the colors meet.
The crimson of the sun, is so very sweet
The silhouette of your body
tall, lean, and strong,
makes me wonder; have I been good to him?
All these months along?
I sit down on the grass,
beneath the crimson sun,
while you stay standing there
you are the only one
You start to walk away,
with the crimson sun behind you.
I turn my head to watch
but my mind cannot bare,
that you just have left me
sitting alone out there
My heart tore to pieces
until I felt a tap
I turned around to see,
I saw you standing there,
looking down onto me.
You sat down beside me,
under the crimson sun.
You held me in your arms and said,
“You are my only one.”
The crimson sun faded,
and the sun turned to the moon;
You said you aren’t going to leave me anytime soon.
Under the moon,
where there were stars up in the sky;
we would lye there in the grass,
as I would start to cry.
You said you wouldn’t leave me,
and I trusted that a ton;
and I’m glad you said that,
I am your only one.
(4/10/2013 6:36:00 AM)
Love lost, black ghost,
In the dark, sorrow and pain
Tear blood in to jealous.
Oh deaths come and take me away.
Scream with range and hopeless.
Spider's crow, suicide in tree and here no one scream.
Hell is a mirror that trapped the soul
Hung ghost death swallow in hoe.
Street can gain fear of death,
That plays Fears in the mind. Depression poisons the mind.
Hung and depressing weaken up
Black roses, those become pain
Emotion, cry and broken. Blood in my hand
Def written inspiration cliff my eyes
Blood stone to strong wife.
A tall tales that have be told about the victim.
Hung in the house to death.
Oh ghost story is told to the child.
Trapped in my own mind. Trapped in the dark I can't see the light
Love lost, black ghost. I feel like die.
Def does not understand when you can't feel you self breath,
I try to survival the loneliness.
Love lost, black ghost.
I am not afraid of death.
They say death is a window.
Suicide is all in my mind, some time I feel like kill myself.
Love lost, black ghost.
(4/7/2013 12:57:00 AM)
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A letter sent to shazia batool, one of the profoundest figure on PH,
regarding the worth of poetic themes and purpose..........
U know the purpose of my writings is to make readers think, and start to ponder,
Unfortunately our faculty of inventive thinking is getting numb..... V r senseless, hypocrite and
We are behaving like driven cattle........
Ya u right my poems based on Green and Roman myth,
U better know how much those concepts are pregnant in meaning and erudite........
Ya sometime lil bit sensuality is not bad..... But what I see here are not worthy to praise except very few....... Most of the themes are old rotten caps everybody dying them as new(even myself)
Poetry is not just praising beauty or penning once psych.......
It a sources of inspiration, re-creation and redefining ideas and ideals.....
Its culture in re shaping,
(4/6/2013 5:39:00 AM)
Please, I need a general impression.
" Tribute to Writers"
Isn't it time,
To combat this growing fame
That grows and grows
The moment the earth is touched?
When the earth falls sick,
Playwrights and Novelists are mobilised;
Framing events in chapters and acts and scenes,
Read world wide.
But the Poet, oh!
With his working tools,
Carves the drama and novel
Into short memorable stanzas,
Read and read worlwide.
(4/5/2013 9:43:00 PM)
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To: Titi Dale, you may know this already but your poem " Ascending" is the member poem of the day on the " Poems" page. Congrats.