Critiques and Revision
(12/9/2012 11:58:00 PM)
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My name is Anna Writer. I write poems, stories and more.
I call this poem " Blame" . I was upset at the time and angry. I wished it hadn't had died, and yet at the same time I knew it was my fault he died.
Post any comments here and on my comment section of my profile. I would love to hear your impressions and thoughts on it. Also I have many other poems posted on this site so you might like to check them out as well.
Burning tears run down my cheeks,
As they have for many weeks.
This thing is dead,
My mother said.
This thing is spent,
A so-called unfortunate event.
But who's to blame
Who will dare claim
They slain and shamed their name?
Confess to your crimes!
We can connect the times!
We know you have no alibi!
Don't try to say goodbye or pacify!
We are sure to gratify,
Our lust for blood!
Those tears that came in a flood,
Bringing with it dirty, filthy mud!
Your tears are lies!
Do you really care if it dies?
Those tears in your eyes, are lies!
There will never be blue skies,
Don't dare devise a disguise!
You can not hide,
You did not care it died!
You have too much pride to admit that it was your collide!
You cannot deny!
You are the bad guy!
It all went awry!
It was your fault it died!Replies for this message:
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(12/3/2012 3:21:00 PM)
Hi poets, poetry lovers and writers - I have posted 2 poems on this site namely; African sunset and Transitions: A hobo's view. Please may I ask you to read, critique and rate these pieces and I will do the same to your work.
Thank you - happy reading.
(12/3/2012 4:41:00 AM)
Spring Evening Chant
Let the breeze blow,
Let the river flow,
In the spring evening
Let the moon come slow.
The music of the fallen leaves around
Or when they rolling on the forest ground,
Does it remind you the song
I've sung in a whispering sound?
The bird comes back to its nest,
And the sun sets down in the west,
The wrapper of the sky is disappeared,
Still I find in my mind unrest.
Let the breeze blow inside our mind's hollow,
Let the river flow and carry our heart's sorrow,
In the spring evening
Let the moon pass its way slow.
(Please inform me your impression if you read my poem.)
(12/1/2012 3:30:00 PM)
Hi, I've always written for family but until recently I have been what you may call a private poet. My collection is there now for you to see. I hope you enjoy some. H of them, let have your thoughts. R. K Hart. [ray]
(11/29/2012 8:57:00 PM)
I have posted some new poems which include " A Round of Applause" , " Clues of Deception" and " Somewhere In-between" . Feel free to comment on them or any of the others honestly. Thanks
(11/29/2012 7:08:00 AM)
hi never really let any other than friends see my poetry. so be gentle with me. I just use my poetry to express what I maybe can`t say. But i would be interested to see what you think. Many thanks to any who wander into my land x
(11/28/2012 6:20:00 PM)
Im a 17 year old chick going through and been through alot of shit. I just started opening up, at school, with my friends and now on the internet, it might be alittle disturbing to read, but I would really appreciate if you could check it out and tell me what you think, and I know Im not alone and that everyone goes through some kinda shit, so thats the stuff Im into and want to read, so I would be more than happy to read and comment on the poems of your deepest and most sincere thoughts and feelings and stories whether its your story or not.
(11/28/2012 8:36:00 AM)
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posted my first poem here at poemhunter, , , , , was hoping to get some reviews so that i could work on my mistakes.
(11/23/2012 5:41:00 PM)
Since I last posted here I have several new poems at R. K. Hart so could I ask that you take a moment and give me your thoughts. I have always referred to my self as a tradesman poet not an artist.
Best wishes to you and yours, Ray
(11/18/2012 7:56:00 PM)
love is a trinket
a bobble head that sits on your dash
and smiles at you in traffic
a charm on a chain that is more heavy
then the metal its made of
it is inexorably mundane
an item lost in the cracks of minutia
the clutter of oblivion
it is the useless totem that you lose and forget
and when it finds you
you can remember who gave it to you
or what it ever did for you in the first place
and so you surrender it to the grasp of the abyss
and affection turns to apathy
and the bobble head and the charm
are left to bear it all
and conjecture there own existence