Critiques and Revision

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  • Edward Webb (12/7/2013 10:44:00 PM) Post reply

    Truth is but the point sat great,
    ultimate and above debate,

    should be what guides living souls,
    to their true enlightenment,

    truth sat before any lie,
    and will sit after the last lie dies,
    as mans mind is what made deny,
    truth in unconscious state alive,
    through presence of self aware through eyes,
    rarely see I- to -eye,

    life now aware must find again,
    by death and the journey felt within,

    living by a mortal lesson,
    souls are angels fallen from heaven,
    we are God all apart,
    and each is a divine fine art

    Eternity is are Death in essence,
    flying back in Deathly presence,
    when once more our wings spread out quintessence,
    and fly our souls back to the heavens

  • Rookie - 0 Points Doris Cornago (12/7/2013 4:03:00 PM) Post reply

    " Blazing Fingers" - Phoenix

    Touched your face as in a dream
    You make my waking hours seem
    Like a lucid dream, so real
    Are the emotions that haunt
    Tumultuous feelings that sends
    Me drifting, falling, circling
    As in a whirlwind traipsing...

    You cannot know pain and need
    Until you own up to them
    I see more sense in hurting
    If feeling them will make me
    See him again, and again
    A placid insensitive rogue
    Incessant with his taunts...

    The lovely melody is ending
    The radiance of his face
    Diminishing...Letting hands
    Linger longer, rolling over
    Highlights of my life etching
    He is the most cultured
    Person I know who feels my pain...

    He jumps about as one scalded
    He grimaces in my discomfort
    He scolds, he cries out loud
    Brown eyes staring in anger
    And yet, he makes me suffer less
    His blazing fingers to my frozen spirit
    Give me hope and eventual forgiveness...

    Please criticize content, clarity, and style. Thank you.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Edward Webb (12/6/2013 10:09:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    if death were the end
    - e.webb

    If death were the end
    then why do care
    and give love that we solemnly share

    If death were the end
    then why be born,
    birth would be the beginning of death
    like a morning risen, just to set
    mendacious a thought
    for days way means they connect

    Like sunrise we appear in our window of time
    risen a nurture draped in loves shine
    as though warmed by the sunshine from a divine

    The thought of our own setting day
    can draw the heart to distraught a way

    so to sooth the torment of a self aware
    man thinks only
    for what Man does care,

    We live and gain riches
    yet gain nothing we can keep
    Objects aren't the reason loved ones shall weep

    What value can we place upon a persons soul
    This un measurable half,
    that makes people whole,
    A value of none if death were the end

    Golds worth the value placed on its head,
    Gold is worthless, when we are dead!

    value of values determines wealth,
    no life sees diamonds worth, more than health.

    We seek knowledge to reinforce fact,
    constructed on nothing more than a theoretical Act.
    all a wonder at
    if death were the end

    Theory's strength relies on credo,
    so putting meaning into a know, meaning man as one can grow,

    so if mans growth if from a pasts know
    this not so, were be it
    if death were the end

    Replies for this message:
    • Doris Cornago (12/7/2013 4:13:00 PM) Post reply

      Hi Edward: First impression - I think I like you as a person because of your direct, uncomplicated manner of talking. Also, I like you poem based on content - your observations are commonsense but ... more

  • Rookie - 0 Points Marianne Soher (12/5/2013 5:41:00 PM) Post reply

    The Avila mount arise
    Above the bright golden beaches
    Of my Jewish Tel Aviv
    And I no more can discern
    Whether the green is Galilean
    Or from Venezuelan plains

    The shrill humming of the streets
    Speckle my nomadic steps.
    I keep seeking synagogues
    Along the streets of Caracas
    And the little Christian churches
    Are so few in Tel Aviv

    Those are the same indigents
    And I walk the same street corners
    The same sun shines them all over
    And the same sweet morning dew
    Hints at a brand new day
    In Tel Aviv and Caracas

    In both markets I can sniff
    The condiments and fine herbs.
    The same scents of rosemary
    Sage and parsley, and cilantro
    Augurs hot soup in Caracas
    And Friday meal in Tel Aviv

    And those two twins are like daughters
    I often confound their names
    And when I melt into darkness,
    While into my dreams I merge
    Both the mountain and the sea
    My heart’s home has no clear name.

    When dark night invades my sunsets
    And my mornings become shadow
    My lingering motions find
    Their hidden spaces within
    And my aged body forgets
    The feverish pace of life

    My being becomes ever lesser
    And the planet ever smaller.
    My spaces then become wider
    Leaving behind all the bends,
    Bulges and gloomy cliffs
    Along the pathways of time

    And my twins forever coupled
    Clinging to my weary hands
    From both extremes of my life
    Keep tearing apart those loves
    - Far apart and yet so linked =
    That coined my life’s destinies.

    Oy! I do have two hearts
    Owned by a single soul

    And I have but one short life
    To fulfill my rival dreams!

  • Rookie - 0 Points Marianne Soher (12/5/2013 5:23:00 PM) Post reply

    Oersonnally I like the simplicity, the first flow of either poem or prose. Maybe it is not very proffessional, but I can feel when a kitterary creation has been " worked on" and then I loose interest. For me, a message should be the inspiration and an intense feeling about it carried in the poem. It would not occur to me to try and " correct" a poem and if I give an opinion about it, it would only be " what feelings it awoke and to what degree of intensity" .

  • Rookie - 0 Points Hanan Ahmed (11/30/2013 12:56:00 AM) Post reply

    L O S T

    They don't get it
    so she fakes it
    A frown on the inside
    A smile on the out
    Life's obstacles
    have her decisions
    On drought
    which way to go
    She doesn't know
    all she wants is for her
    Dreams to unfold

  • Rookie - 0 Points Alby Brooks (11/23/2013 7:11:00 AM) Post reply


    Inhale, now exhale
    like this through life
    The world's universal glass eyes
    breathe the ashes of the fallen
    Blindly, Thoughtlessly
    Stumble through the shambles
    Not knowing, not realizing
    But I know, I see
    See the blankness of their eyes,
    drinking in the blood of new Earth
    Anger, hurt, confusion, pain
    Palpable, to feel it
    See it, I know it
    Go against the flow
    No never! , they say
    So I stay silently
    Alone, but surrounded
    Cover my eyes, glazed
    Just another fish in the stream
    Another spider on the web

  • Rookie - 0 Points Alby Brooks (11/22/2013 11:15:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Willing Hands
    Eager disposition of mine,
    catch the falling bird
    Quick, Quick
    Help me, it screams
    Willing hands let the graceful bird descend
    Pulled by its gravity,
    crashes to the ground
    To down, To down
    Falls through the crack in the floor
    Betrayed by my eager disposition of mine
    Through the dirt,
    four, no six feet below
    Bye Bye Birdy
    Wait, wait
    No, it is my turn now
    Karma repays me in full
    MY fate now put in other's willing hands
    My turn, my turn, the crows cry
    Your turn, I yelp
    They tease
    If only, if only
    Regret, try to repent
    No, no NO
    betrayed by their eager hands
    Peck, claw, drop
    Blind, I still fall
    Vengeance is their game
    Till I'm the same
    I'm the same
    Abandoned, suffocated
    Breathing in freshly dirt
    Birdy, Birdy,
    now we're the same
    We're the same,
    through that willing disposition of mine

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  • Rookie - 0 Points Kera Bashline (11/21/2013 12:58:00 PM) Post reply


    Daddy you left me all alone.
    I was a messed up girl from a broken home.
    You'd drown your sorrow in bottles of beer
    But your reasons for doing so, where unclear.
    My heart is broken and needs to heal
    From all the pain you've made me feel.
    If only I could show you this hatred is real.
    You left me when i was four.
    Was it hard for you to walk out the door?
    You hurt my mom and me.
    Dad cant you see?
    You're part of the reason I’m in a group home!
    And the reason I feel alone.


    A picture is worth a thousand words.
    That is what they say
    But can you feel the emotion from the picture in any way?
    That saying if for the birds
    Because words show you how to feel,
    And the picture may only look real.
    You may not agree,
    And this may only be me,
    But what I feel is what i say
    You may not like it,
    But I speak my mind anyway.

    Please tell me if these two poem are good.. I try my best: /

  • Rookie - 0 Points Kera Bashline (11/20/2013 3:16:00 PM) Post reply

    I've always worn my heart on my sleeve,
    Even though people say I'm naive.
    I'm a girl that's never truly loved before,
    Till you knocked at my door.
    My heart Is now In your hands,
    So I hope you can understand,
    That I fell my heart Is made of Ice
    So I hope you will take my advice
    And leave while you can.
    If you truly are the man I adore,
    Please don't make me want more.
    You know I will never leave your side,
    But you need to run and hide,
    For I might hurt you one day,
    And this is why you can't stay.
    I promise you that im in love,
    Because your my angel sent from above.
    So smash my heart break It Into pieces while you still can,
    Even though I'm the only one that can make you feel like a man.
    I'm really no good for you.

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