Critiques and Revision

Lend me your spheres.

Lend me your lens for my spheres are broke,
Spliced by a splinter of image galore,
Thoughts diverge like white lights spectrum of gore.
A compass of breadth to observe, to evoke.
Yield me your orbs, your yellow spots humour;
Furnish my brain, diffract my retina,
Freeze these cones, oh plague me myopia,
Resolute in tandem with earth’s voyeur.
Haggle me the eyes of a new born foal,
Acute awareness is what I aspire
So melt down my stars in a spiral of fire,
Torch our terra to its terrible goal.
For their virtue these kind eyes do me well,
Aeons inert in the expanse of a cell.

Any feedback is greatly appreciated :)

Check out my new poem " We the strongest" . Welcome all the feedback and comments. Thank you for stopping by. Cheers Tara

If I Had Ten More Minutes

If I had ten more minutes
and my voice was not faint
nor my face so devoid
or my mind so blank,
I would profess—

But I'm afraid of words
which might betray lips,
For what is kept
is of my eyes—
that impulsive organ
I've attempted to stray;
hooded, hazed.

Construing a montage
ever playing:
concerns, worries
fears, and doubts,
Come to life
in bursting light
whilst straining in the dark.

And if such creations
could speak—
or better
could be heard—
through the mist of passion
And masks of pride,

I would profess
All in my heart;
Every quaint murmur
Forsaken night and night.

Daydreaming

I took it all to heart,
each hasty smile and modest gesture,
each syllable of dispassionate word,
to a stage where even I was persuaded,
the rays veiling your face
in perfect symmetry,
were by your own hand.

I coveted you so,
for what were you incapable?
See, you were the rays,
as you were the smile, the gesture,
and the word.
Everything created, then destroyed
by unadulterated hand,
but all only in my sight.

Now I mistrust.
There are words I thought were spoken
and actions I thought displayed—
In fact, illusions and trickery.
But now I see,
how you were a dream,
borne of a skeptic in dangerous reverie.

This guise I had burdened on you,
I all the time unawares,
For it had seemed,
that when I said move
—you moved.
And when I said speak
—you spoke.

How does something appearing
so concrete, so essential
be confused with truth?
—to savor another's words
and have them be your own—
Eyes blind and still
having dreams of distant realms—
but forget it.
Happiness has gained on me,
now knowing the best of truth.

Now there is only whisperings
of lost voices.
No more apparitions of smiles,
gestures, or words—
such trivial necessities,
conceived by a fool
in want of an actor.

Hi friends, Please read, review and vote for my poem below. Suggestions are most welcome. Thank you for your valuable time and support. Kind Regards...Geetha jayakumar

Mom

Mom is beautiful when she holds her babe closed in her arms.
Mom is lovable when she nurture her child.
Child is grateful when she holds her aged mom's hand.
Years passes by but the relation of mom child is evergreen.
To mom her child is always a child.
Mom is the one who forgives you, understands you, listens to you patiently.
Mom is the one who waits for you.
Mom is just a call away from you.

Happy Mothers day.

Hi friends, Please read, review and vote for my below poem. Suggestions are most welcome. Thank you for your valuable time and support...Kind Regards. Geetha jayakumar

Happy Mother's Day

Thank you Mom
is the three priceless word
I dedicate it to my Mom.
Mom is the three letter word
which means a lot to me.

Hello everyone, Here is some information that could help a lot of poets
.
To make your poems great you must always make sure that they have good flow. What I mean by flow is. Picture in your mind how water flows smoothly downward and over rounded obstacles. The flow seems to be uninhibited and everything flows together smoothly. But if there is an obstacle such as a sharp rock or a tree branch in the water it can cause ripples thus causing the water not to flow smoothly. The difference between good, very good or great can be nothing else but the flow of your poem. Always go over your poems over and over again changing what is necessary to make them flow. Always remember that if your poems motivate you and they are drawn from your emotions and your heart to the point that you can feel them. And they have good flow. You will always have the best.

Keep writting and I invite all to read my poems to see what I mean about the flow of a poem. Roger Hoesch

Hi everyone! Im new and i wanted some critiques and opinions in the 3 poems that i posted here, if someone could help me, please!

Hi everyone, Been away for a while. Stopped my creativity for awhile. Now i am back. just came up with one poem call unmistaken destiny. I am looking for a constructive feedback on my writing. Thank you everyone for stopping by and leaving a comment, Cheers Tara

Day I Told Pa A Lie

Day I told Pa a lie
The words reply like songs I like
Guilt blinded me like the night
Weakness came in mighty might;
Tears fought back with consoling words
Came all out in perfect chords,
Anger, like water in me swell
Myself I despise as though I smell;
If I had the future seen
I'd make a way around the scene,
Ousted by fear I hid the truth
Should have been loyal as Ruth;
For lies can't live forever long
But truth exists ever strong;
Albeit Pa believed what I mean
My conscience pricked hard and mean;
Cos if the truth itself reveals,
My face, forever, in shame conceals.