Critiques and Revision
(5/9/2012 8:46:00 AM)
By Godfrey Morris
Life is precious
it is a gem on the sands of shores
though often treated as if it matters little
Life is the beauty of the world
As a rose, it blooms in season
In it hides the souls of all reasons
Life is the sun it comes and then goes
Each life adds something new
Good or bad is what we make of it
Life is worth living for
Sometimes worth dying for,
but never in life you throw away.
Each life must be treasured to the very natural end
copyright © 2012
(5/3/2012 3:02:00 PM)
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Never Give Up Pledge
I pledge I will never give up.
No matter what the odds may be
I will still pursue victory.
Even when it appears I can go no farther.
I vow I will not allow my life situation to become
For I know I have strength within
to turn the worlds negative obstacles around to win.
I will persevere in my downfall
with humbleness to conquer them all.
No matter how far I can’t go
I will never tell myself no.
Because I will not settle for good enough
thus I refuse to fall short
or become mentally distort.
All of my hard work and dedication
will not be out of frustration.
Even if I have to smile through my pain
I will continue to maintain.
I will never give up even when no one else believes in
me because my spirit of inspiration will set me free.
There is too much talent for me to waste
so my dream is worthy to chase.
Since I have a lot I can do
I will not bite off more than I can chew.
I will not throw away whatever my heart desires
but be inspired.
Even if I think it is someone else rk fault
I can’t hold them responsible if my success halts.
I will never give up.
I have the opportunity to go on
and not be successfully withdrawn.
If I give up, I will never know what I am capable of
in showing myself determination and self-love.
Nor, will I feel like I could be the best person to live
with or present the world all I can give.
I will never give up.Replies for this message:
(5/31/2012 9:44:00 AM)
I like it, you don't just have rhyme, anyone can force a rhyme, you've also got rhythm and a solid persistent message to boot. Keep it up.
(5/12/2012 10:31:00 AM)
It's Hemingway: " But man does not made for defeat, a man may destroyed, but not defeated." .. the modernist are right in objecting against rhyming.I rhyme no more
- Hawkins Rodgers (5/31/2012 9:44:00 AM) Post reply
(5/3/2012 10:02:00 AM)
When life gets hard, you're always right there.
To hold my hand, and show you care.
Even when I thought nothing was going right,
You always told me, 'Don't give up, Just fight.'
Even when I thought I couldn't hold on,
You would always hug me, and say 'Be Strong.'
That day when I was little, and I couldn't breathe,
You were right there to comfort me.
Or the time I was the Pageant Queen,
You stood up for me, when people were mean.
I know I act spoiled, and at times can be rude,
But that's never stopped the love coming from you.
I know that you love me, and I love you too.
Thank you for everything.
Thanks for always coming through.
I love you.
(4/24/2012 3:38:00 PM)
Once there was potential, promise,
high hopes from good genes. And
then there were some early signs that
supported those hopes. The girl talked at
9 months in complete sentences, and
then had to learn how to talk all over
again once her teeth came in and got
in the way.
By all rights, this was something to make
the parents proud. Who could blame them,
really, having this talking prodigy pushed
from the womb of the woman who typed
the man's PhD on an IBM Selectrix while
the woman was eight months heavy with child.
Who could explain when things changed?Was
it when something broke inside the girl by no
fault of her own?Or was it something that she
could have chosen: when some decision triggered
a chain of other decisions?Decisions that didn't
reflect those genes or honor the promise of that
early talking before her little teeth broke
through those petal pink gums?
But really, it doesn't really matter when, and
maybe it only matters why. No one really knows
for sure, least of all the girl, though it has been the
topic of many conversations and the reason for
a letter written by the man, who wondered what
had gone so wrong. The letter was many pages
long and it was stained with his tears.
(Grateful for any critiques or comments. Thank you!)
(4/23/2012 5:29:00 PM)
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Sons of Sea and Salty Air
By: Calico Jack
I saw a starlit melody
in the sky,
above the sea.
The somber tune,
from sunken graves,
to reach for me.
The moon of voyages long past
this song comes last.
when life is gone,
and spirits pass.
Hear their call,
death's parting blast.
Poseidon's sons now rest in peace,
by shifting tide.
Their mortal lease,
gone are they,
beneath the beast.
Id like to send out an invitation to everyone who reads this to check out my other poems from my page. Thanks in advance for any critique you might offer :)
(4/23/2012 5:08:00 PM)
I like the poem
you managed to make it rhyme without it being obviously the wrong choice of word
I felt emotionional
Try losing some of the wasted words which cluter it. like-
I gaze in the mirror.What is this I see.?
I wonder how this person is who I've come to be?
regards from Kathleen Bartholomew (uk)
(4/22/2012 9:12:00 AM)
As I gaze at the mirror that hangs, what is this that I see.
As I stare, I wonder how this person looking back is who I've come to be.
I look into those eyes, in which seem to only behold sadness.
Lonely no matter where I turn, and can't seem to escape this madness.
If I were to look into that heart, and through my very soul,
I would find a world of emptiness and pain that I can't seem to control.
Yet I don't move, and can't see, it's like in darkness I feel blind.
Why do I continue to stare at this mirror, what is it that I hope to find?
There is a dark side of the mirror, in which I'm afraid to say,
Feeling like a demon from hell cast out to play.
That's the part that does evil and idiotic things,
No matter what happens and what it brings.
I try to keep it in, something I must get rid of or atleast hide.
But I can't bury it, because still it's lurking deep down inside.
As I look upon this mirror, I see so much anger and pain.
I've tried to hide it, but no matter what the mirror still remains.
(4/21/2012 7:25:00 AM)
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A long time ago one kid
would shower snowballs up on us
his name was Moshe
neighbour's ewe lamb,
once he drowned my family's cat
after pricking it all over with
his mother's tailor needle.
He didn't apologise didn't look back.
He'd laugh when I would kiss you
beneath the willow right on your reddish cheek
sort of a ripe midsummer's fruit
when our dry lips hadn't already
been wading through the childhood
to the dewy land.
And Moshe was working together
with his father veterinarian -
latex gloves, scissors
patching up the gashes for curs
puttin'em to sleep due to the rabies,
the birds would withdraw from the sky
when Moshe would spend his night-time
on a loft sewing up the tails of the mice
after tearing them off
without any prayer, Lord,
without a touch.
Moshe had a scar below his eye
he was born marked,
genes, my dear,
that's a gene of scalpel and needle,
and it's uncertain what they'd been doing
with our parents's cats
in the childhood.
I met him at abandoned temple recently,
Moshe, he was meshed
into the bindweeds
fogged from eternal shade
demented from birdsongs
wale-marked by God,
or by Lucifer, or perhaps by me
I swear I can't remember
it's a long time we are seeking ourselves
for each other at this temple
you never know there's a chance
we are simply insane.
(4/19/2012 11:19:00 AM)
Burning tears from his eyes riot down
Down the vast of his cheeks
For in his life sorrow sat on a throne..
And wore a crown..
Sadness the glue was..that joins his every flesh..to bone
His pathetic life partied in clubs of fustration
His soul danced to sad rhythms with every second that tick'd..
He was an orphan, he was a lovelorn
His sorrow was fat and his woes thick..
No wonder 'twas his hands who tied this rope..
On this tree from which his lifeless body swings..
A mortal that never had hope..
That one day his seely bells would ring..
Now watch.. Dead.. His eyes still cry..
He commited suicide.. But his tears won't die
(4/17/2012 1:17:00 PM)
I’ m witness of the love, of a mother breast
holding is child, on her smoked flavoured chest.
In her harms, like a wormed nest of cuddle,
On a shelter of refreshing shadow.
I’m witness of the hunger of this world
Feeding of sour milk and hungry sore.
Of traps, pouring gasps on the
Empty hallow of stomach guts.
I’m witness of the poverty embraces humanity.
Of people heart, devours neighbours leisure.
Making song of sorrow, for their own pleasure.
And meaningless treasures.
I’m witness of the richness fantasy of a child
Embracing childish games of spices.
Singing songs & rhymes.
I’m witness on this world
Where life’s dwell
On sorrow and Sadness
On joy of happiness.