Treasure Island

Freeform Workshop


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  • Herbert Guitang (4/26/2014 4:40:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Just A Friend

    Someone you can talk to
    A person you can share with
    The one who can care with you
    Somebody who will be concern with you

    Someone who can understand you
    A person that gives you attention
    The one who can share your affection
    Somebody who can accompany you
    in the storm and in the heaven of your life

    Someone who can make a distance and give you space
    A person with no creepiness and cleverness
    The one with no strings of attachment
    Somebody who is not special, but a simple
    and ordinary “angel” of your life

    Not a best friend
    Not a girlfriend
    Not a boyfriend
    Not a mutual friend

    Only Just a Friend
    herbert guitang

  • Herbert Guitang (4/22/2014 4:20:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Kindly check my poems if freeform in my poet page. Thank you very much

  • Ella Pitt (3/18/2014 5:35:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Milk

    A congealed epidermis.
    My repugnant antagonist.
    Two hundred milliliters at
    Ten forty five.
    Two hundred milliliters at
    Three thirty.
    Just in case the emetic scent
    Had evaded my nostrils.
    Or the diaphonous film
    Was no longer clinging to
    My tonsils generating
    Glutinous saliva.
    I have the self sufficiency of
    An overflowing bin
    Begging to be relieved of
    The soiled nappies and the
    Mildew food packages that
    Fill its cavity.
    Every day I put it in the microwave
    For an extra minute
    Hoping that the boiling temperature
    Will incinerate the impurity
    That lies dorment but like mould
    On my much too long tongue.
    It leers at me.
    Lecherous and toadying villain.
    So I stir it with a spoon
    That sweats with condensation

  • Ella Pitt (3/18/2014 5:34:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Scratch

    Systematically I scratched at a
    Stubborn residue, insignificant but
    Annoyingly present.
    But I wasn't really scratching
    Away at that sticky fleck of molecular matter
    I was watching the
    Malleable plasticine faces on
    The insides of my eyelids.
    And listening to the nauseatingly
    Muffled intonations from
    The insides of my walls
    Wishing I could sink my
    Fingers into my own
    Obstinately unmoving features.
    Or tickle the string of my
    Vocal chords into submission.
    Until my own muffles were coersed
    Brought up from a
    Stinging acidic pool.
    Accumulated from carbonated water
    And dissolved sweetener.
    I feel the fabric around me
    Become tepid and callous
    Its no longer healing
    It is finite polyester

  • Ella Pitt (3/18/2014 5:34:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Newly Old Clothes

    My favourite stripes and
    Those jeans that I wish I'd
    Never bought that mock me
    With their tensile seams
    Of dingy disinfectant yellow.
    They're churning, wrenching, twisting
    Pretzals that I grab with both fists
    Press them to carnivorous teeth
    That quiver underneath
    a Buffalo charge.
    Split hooves, splitting headache
    Four inches abouve teeth where
    My third eye should be.

  • Frank Ovid (3/4/2014 9:50:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    I don't have any ideas for any Freeform poems. I'm thinking I should move to the Rhythm and Meter Workshop. Everyone knows how rhythmic I am. Why not take advantage of that gift from my ancestor, Ovid?Yes, Ovid. Quite honestly, it's just that I MOVE so well. Naturally rhythmic from Ovid (my ancestor) I guess?There's not too many 'Freeform' people around here anyway. Look for the big move soon.

  • Frank Ovid (3/3/2014 10:29:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    I tried to think of something Freeform, but I'm stumped. Nothing coming. I thought of a BUNCH of metered stuff. Brilliant stuff. God, you should have seen me! I was so rhythmic! But, this is the 'Freeform' forum, so I couldn't post it. Christ! I was rhyming too. I even rhymed 'orange' for Christ's sake! I was really grooving with the meter too. Sorry, but I can't post it. This is Freeform poetry. Too bad. I just couldn't think of anything Freeform. Ces't la vie!

  • Frank Ovid (3/1/2014 12:11:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    In Free Form poetry ANYTHING goes. That's what I like about it. Poets can let their mind roam free. Write whatever words one likes as long as it's interesting to the reader (or yourself) . Experiment poets. Go crazy! ! Post it here and we'll talk about it. Nothing negative. Free Form means just that. You call the shots.

  • Frank Ovid (3/1/2014 9:37:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Hello everyone in the 'Freeform Workshop'! I'm moving down here. I don't think they like me up there in the BIG forum: (

    Ovid was a great free form poet btw. Not many people know that, and I'm related to him. That's where all of my talent comes from. Let's talk free form poetry!

  • Mamatha Kaza (2/13/2014 5:53:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Lost

    Lost in battles of mind.

    Lost to desires of life

    Lost to love of heart

    Lost to sprits of nature

    Lost to no more words to find

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