Poetics and Poetry Discussion

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  • Rookie - 477 Points ... Dog God 8hate (11/21/2014 12:32:00 PM) Post reply | Read 5 replies
    11 person liked.
    5 person did not like.


    OkCupid: Response to ...
    no Response

    You're into ...
    Cognitive Science?

    Dear soul:
    they who pursue the infinitude
    therein, come to realize
    that fetching vibe
    piquant posts can spin

    i'm a man posing woman,
    but for a cause
    (seemingly) too wiggy
    to tell, yet ... honest.

    it's one of irony's
    opposing ways to fool
    it's for FUN, and ...

    Surely you've peeked beyond
    the veil o' assumption ...
    those impeded borders o'
    minion land? And ...
    into the endless beyond?

    Your 5 foot four frame ...
    it fits an expedient composite
    if you know how to


    Replies for this message:
    • Rookie - 477 Points The Pundit (11/22/2014 10:29:00 PM) Post reply

      This guy likes to fool around with words, and he makes you think. That's what a real poet does. He doesn't talk about colorless leaves. If he talks about leaves he shows you, he doesn't tell you.

    • Rookie - 477 Points Professor Plum (11/22/2014 10:15:00 PM) Post reply

      This is terrific Dog. 'Fake Plum' is a doofus. You play with words like a champ. Write some more! We miss you!

    • Rookie - 477 Points Professor Plum (11/22/2014 4:26:00 PM) Post reply

      Retarded writing by a retarded mind! Oh sorry, it is " uniquely" retarded.

    • Rookie - 477 Points Poetry Hound (11/21/2014 1:27:00 PM) Post reply

      My lady friend was in the market and ch ... more

    • Rookie - 477 Points The Pundit (11/21/2014 12:43:00 PM) Post reply

      Most of them on here are jerk-jobs. You ... more

  • Veteran Poet - 1,891 Points Mike Acker (11/20/2014 3:44:00 PM) Post reply | Read 3 replies

    Time Of Death

    The dead and dying are everywhere.
    If I didn't know better, I would have thought
    a massacre had taken place. There is
    neither blood nor gore, but death prevails, nevertheless.

    The carcasses are scattered wherever
    one looks. Higher above are the sickly,
    looking down at their brethren, clear about
    their own fate. The color of life has left them.

    Soon, they too, will fall to their death, leaving
    only skeletal remains behind.

    Mike Acker

    Replies for this message:
    • Veteran Poet - 1,891 Points Mike Acker (11/21/2014 6:07:00 PM) Post reply

      It is about fall and fallen leaves, morons!

    • Veteran Poet - 1,891 Points Poetry Hound (11/21/2014 1:09:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      She barely had a pulse. Thrown clear and only a few eyedroppers of blood. We put an old sleeping bag across her As if it would help As if temperature had the ref's whistle. When the the paramed ... more

    • Veteran Poet - 1,891 Points The Pundit (11/21/2014 12:52:00 PM) Post reply

      'The dead and dying are everywhere'....Jesus, you couldn't come up with a more poetic line than that?You write for the Washington Post?This is poetry, not a godd*mn newspaper article. Show us the dead ... more

  • Rookie - 510 Points Havilah Dammette (11/19/2014 3:58:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi, yes. Someone get asians off new list poems?Hogging all space with paw prints. No words.
    My mouth mad at chow mein.

  • Veteran Poet - 1,095 Points Xelam Kan (11/19/2014 1:20:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    in the absence of great minds
    only trolls sing around
    , , , , , , , , , ,
    hay guys, break the break now

    Replies for this message:
    • Veteran Poet - 1,095 Points The Pundit (11/21/2014 1:04:00 PM) Post reply

      Write me a poem Gulsher, and shut up. Trolls are all we have left here. No one likes poetry including me. Get busy writing a good poem. No one else can.

  • Gold Star - 16,214 Points Mohammad Skati (11/17/2014 2:33:00 PM) Post reply

    Since our birth until our death / We write our life's pages / We write our good deeds and our bad deeds / When we pass away anytime / Then we will take this book with us / Either we pass our test or we fail /.

  • Freshman - 544 Points Adam M. Snow (11/16/2014 9:08:00 PM) Post reply | Read 3 replies

    The Day the Jester Died
    Written by Adam M. Snow

    Twenty one times three, a journey of laughter;
    the fool borne clown was he.
    Entertaining his majesty - soon after
    realize the laughter would soon die with him.
    Soon to vanish, he of many voices.
    All his jest would soon to end,
    all to end by his choices;
    a feeling without a friend.
    This Jester who proudly gave us laughter,
    was dying deep within.
    Covering his pain with the joy of laughter.
    If it were enough, it would have been,
    but it wasn't enough for him.
    So this Jester left to wonder,
    'Was he truly loved enough?'
    Yet he could not see past yonder,
    the treasures that loved enough.
    He gave his all but lost his soul to grieve,
    and grieve himself upon a tree.
    Entangled rope among the sticks and leaves,
    a last resort, felt for a Jester such as he.
    So now this Jester once a clown,
    lays to rest within his chamber.
    Retiring with him his Jester's crown,
    leaving with us a memory to remember.
    This Jester left without a bow,
    still a mystery to us all.
    The thought that struck him and how
    he felt the need to fall.
    A broken heart, was that his pain?
    Thus this day that laughter died.
    A reason for sorrow to reign,
    O for his majesty, who cried.
    O his majesty's courts,
    silence fills the hall.
    The king is left to mourn,
    the Jester who felt the need to fall.
    Laughter died with him,
    the fool borne clown.
    A joyous time spent with him,
    now he passes on his Jester's crown.

    Replies for this message:
    • Freshman - 544 Points The Pundit (11/21/2014 1:09:00 PM) Post reply

      You're giving all you got, Kid. If I could slap you on the back, I would. Kind of like chocolate syrup, but better than no syrup at all. Try some powdered sugar next time.

    • Freshman - 544 Points ... Dog God 8hate (11/21/2014 9:49:00 AM) Post reply

      . . . A lovely tribute to a lovely man ... true: " a fool borne clown" albeit ... merely what's ... contrived image the master fool conferred ... (that) hidden entity, he li ... more

    • Freshman - 544 Points Pranab K Chakraborty (11/17/2014 1:09:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      Nice write. The words, its lucidity and expressional simplicity draws the line perfect to touch a man who offers our heart to release some burdens. Valuable tribute. Thank you.

  • Rookie - 359 Points Zoila T. Flores (11/15/2014 5:50:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Oh Dear,
    ...Conscience, don't abandon me,
    Through my journey, on this day,
    Keep supporting, as you're always,
    On the wisdom, of my say...

    Replies for this message:
    • Rookie - 359 Points Pranab K Chakraborty (11/17/2014 10:55:00 PM) Post reply

      Yes, Conscience. But to give it the steer, a strong belief, I mean philosophical stand, is quiet necessary. Otherwise instinct could misguide in disguise of conscience. Thanks for the cry.

  • Gold Star - 16,214 Points Mohammad Skati (11/15/2014 4:45:00 PM) Post reply

    I'm burning like a candle everyday / I'm looking for my hope somewhere / Me and myself are two in one / Simply because we can not be one in two / There are many horizons around me / My whole life is confused / I'm a real co-partner in torturing myself / And I'm still looking for myself / But I don't find myself / I'm still missing or I'm drowned /.................. This poem is called - Myself -.

  • Veteran Poet - 1,891 Points Mike Acker (11/15/2014 1:35:00 PM) Post reply

    Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a great poet with us. I have checked out her writing and it is superb! Her name is Carmi Basson!

  • Veteran Poet - 1,095 Points Xelam Kan (11/15/2014 10:56:00 AM) Post reply

    Allure of darkness

    Farewell sweet luna;
    the queen Nyx is coming
    from the east,
    let me fade in these parting
    hours, like a candle
    burns down in the wind.
    O! when love fails, tales of the dead rise.but
    who tells her:
    love not begins but bangs...
    And symphony of the autumn breaths in my soul, but
    she says, " in darkness
    winds are silent."

    PS. needs final strokes...

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