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Freeform Workshop


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  • Leonid Gonzalez (5/22/2011 11:16:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    The requiem of the flies

    The rain is crashing upon my face
    Its like God is trying to wash away my pain
    I look down upon the puddles of mud
    Thinking about all the things I have done

    The rain is so cold

    The dark grey gloom surrounds me
    My life is not as it should be
    And I don’t care anymore
    I find that Living is such a bore

    The rain is so cold

    My mind is numb, cold and blank
    This world is passing me by
    This world is cold and dank
    And I wonder why I have not died

    The rain is so cold


    Abaddon holds no surprises for me
    Under the pale moon I danced on my grave
    And I am on my way to hell
    I cant deny what is to be

    The rain is so cold

    My soul is heavy and stained and
    I don’t want to carry it no more
    I carry two coins in my hand
    Waiting upon the water’s shore

    The rain is so cold

    The man in white comes for me
    Pretending to walk on water
    Feet stuttering, hips jutting
    About to fall in and he is getting closer

    The rain is so cold


    There will be no requiescat for me
    My apple of Peru has wilted and
    The lord of the flies wont let me be
    He crushes the flower in my hand

    The rain is so cold

    It was my last day on earth
    The two coins in my hand my life is not worth
    My soul knows will know no reprieve
    From hell I will never leave

    The rain is so cold

    My life is to repand upon itself
    It is destined to reprise
    My song has not ended
    But has repetended

    The rain is cold

    To the Archean I was sent
    Where I was meant to repent
    Repentir, pentir, paenitere
    Until the worlds’ end

    The rain is so cold

    From the puddles of mud I look up
    And realize I have gotten old
    All my years spent wondering,
    And I have no story to be told

    The rain is so cold

    I can only hope to die one day
    And start it all over again but
    The lord of the flies wont let me die
    I have become one of his flies to my dismay


    first post, curious to know what you think of this. i dont know how to classify this poem.

    Replies for this message:
    • Theresa Haffner (5/31/2011 2:46:00 AM) Post reply

      This poem has interesting content, and it is refreshing to see a poem with as much psychological exploration and symbolism as this, but it is hardly free form. Freeform would imply freedom from form, ... more

  • Prince Labiel (5/20/2011 9:28:00 AM) Post reply

    Lost in Transition


    the train pulls away grudginly
    from the station with no name
    there is darkness all around
    yet it is the middle of day
    an autumn chill
    caresses my hands
    strands of hair cover my eyes
    from the flicker of flame,
    stagnant yellows and oranges
    glisten in red.
    the reflection of me in window
    with each breath,
    positivity in me is seeping out

    my tears have all dried up
    confused and numb
    soothed by Hollie Smith
    singing soulful from her album,
    Long Player.
    I am trying to be inspired
    the train is on a roll
    too many tracks
    I am lost in transition.

    By Prince Labiel

  • Chloe Mogensen (5/14/2011 7:33:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi! I wrote this based on my friend and this guy


    Every Rose Has It’s Thorns

    She was a rose and he- the thorns,
    So delicate was she,
    So caring was she,
    So much she gave for him,
    So much he took.
    He left, and took everything with,
    He did not even spare her heart,
    He broke it in two,
    She wept for him.
    -Chloe Mogensen

  • Waseem Sherif (5/14/2011 12:33:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi i'm new here, this is the first poem I post in this forum please feel free to criticize:

    Dream

    So far, so alone, so tired
    I’m lying here, resting...
    So in vain and so useless
    Every time I try walking...

    So blue, so wide but so cold
    The sky I’m looking…
    So emotional, so senseless
    This kind of moments...

    I thought it's the last
    So I tried my best smiling
    How comfortable! Yet, how funny!
    I was just dreaming...

  • b l (4/14/2011 8:31:00 AM) Post reply

    Just a rough draft please feel free to critic and nitpick! I'm a teen who enjoys writing but I have little to show for it.Thanks!

    Began when I was 10
    He helped me out, but now
    Get it out of my head
    Stop controlling me
    No ones to understand
    Alone, a creature, posessed
    Am I metaly insane?
    Is there a name for this?

    It's not my fault
    I never ment to hurt you
    I'm in shame, in denial,
    I can't reach out
    I stay silent to truth
    Help me! save me!
    Can't you hear my screams
    between my wild tales

    What am I worth,
    Charm, beauty, wisdom
    When I'm the master of
    Ash, black decetption?
    In middle of the night
    I gaze at the reflection
    Gray and gastly, peering
    My terrifed blue eyes

    It lured me into a pit
    I tried to crawl out
    I'm to weak to continue
    Where's your hand?
    You know this isn't me
    But everyone juges, gossips
    every word that comes out
    My own or that spirits

    We dance face to face
    People found him
    You see him, you see me
    I'm ashamed, leave, please
    I'm not deserng of you
    Your love or exceptence
    Never to forgive myself, go
    Blossom into that rose

    I look back, to the past
    You came back, grown up
    Even after I sent you away
    Adventuring with me now
    Still refusing answers,
    It hurts you too much
    Your never to know my
    Demon of Falsehood

  • David Goscinski (3/29/2011 5:07:00 AM) Post reply

    Tasso Translated And Paraphrased
    In Spenserian Stanza.

    Worn and wearied mine afflicted heart be;
    Torment, dread, grief, and fright with foul intents
    Prowl around with abject anxiety,
    Like as wolves 'round about the sheep up pent,
    Rangeth by night their desired prey to rent.
    Enraged with hunger, and with malice set
    Upon th' harmless sheep in hope to quench;
    (Upon thorns I sit) as they search and threat
    High n' low, where they might enter without stop or let.

  • Playdough Person (3/28/2011 2:23:00 PM) Post reply

    so tired of placement
    it just makes me sick
    I'm on my own
    while everyone tries to sit and clone
    being pushed aside
    all I have is my life
    they fight they yell
    some come from jail
    I come from CPS
    I've told them I can't deal with this
    just be with me as I serve my time
    becuase thats all I have that is mine.

  • Niamat Ali Murtazai (11/7/2010 11:42:00 AM) Post reply

    Freeform poetry seems to be a modern trend but in fact is there in man's mind.It is an expression of feelings as the are. The freeform lines also have their effect. In the present age of speed and exertion, even freeform poetry is a blessing. But if along with passions lines are also trimmed and arranged, they can be more effective. But overall effect should be poetic not prosaic.Sometimes, rhymed lines fall short of effectiveness.

  • Glenn J(ones) (7/16/2010 11:36:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    I don't necessarily consider myself a poet. MY future carrer options are heading towards journalist, author, radio-host, advertisement designer. I wrote this out of complete Random and I don't understand what compelled me to write it. I haven't written a poem since a 6th grade English project, and while I managed quite a few compliments, that was a while (but not too much of, as I'm only 17) ago. So this probably just sucks, but I'd love opinions and possible critique. Here you go:

    Desolate Pelican Land
    Ship wreckage unbattered
    My compass points east
    No rest.

    I am sunkissed and shaken
    The palm trees are'a swayin'
    It's snowing in Africa
    No sense.

    Magic Sailing Ship, abduct me
    Probe me and mutilate
    Borrow a kidney
    No return.

    Do you feel the gentle breeze attacking?
    Asphyxiation by coconut
    I am askin' for a lynchin'
    No anchor.

    Doppleganger is'a swimmin'
    Hear the monkey's screech?
    I lounge on anthills
    No free birds.
    ©

    Replies for this message:
    • b l (4/13/2011 9:42:00 PM) Post reply

      Hey as far as experience I'm right there with you(ripe old age of 17) .But I got a kick out of it, Has a great imagery about it.As well as a Alice-in-wonderland-I-have-no-clue-whats-going-on-vibe. Le ... more

  • Cymberli Renai (6/4/2010 4:22:00 PM) Post reply

    what do you think?

    I have reached the end.
    The pain iIfeel will never stop.
    There is no end to these tears.
    Pain,
    never stopping.
    Love,
    ending.
    The end of us.
    Pain takes hold.
    The love ends,
    tears fall....

    my friend Alexis wrote this and wants criticism.

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