Poetry

The pen is mightier than the sword
That isn't hard to prove
The gap between the 'n' and 'i'
Is all you need remove!

2007-08-12 02:59:39 · 5 answers · asked by jay58 1

A good title please, and any other comments...I love suggestion. Thanx for your time.

My eyes to the carcass of time are open windows.
Portals to a labyrinth of torment, they do not blink.
The loneliness reflected in their tears only grows,
As deeper into the abyss of my thoughts I sink.
I see myself, as I am now: anxious and alone.
Staring impassively at the walls of my cell,
In the comatose night I dream of home,
And assess the milieu known as hell.
As humanity around me sleeps silently,
I listen to the faint rock songs in the distance.
Or is that just my heart beating violently?
Or the maelstrom in my head seeking assistance?
They can’t comprehend, can’t fully understand,
The intricacy of our endeavour,
Someday we’ll escape hand in hand,
And we’ll finally be together.
Have a little faith, have a little patience.
Naïve we have been, young we may be still.
Fight, struggle on the path of resistance,
And break free from these manacles we will.

2007-08-11 23:05:04 · 9 answers · asked by Candlelight 1

i have been assiged a poetry essay this weekend, one of the questions is...

" look at the form of the poem, what form is the poem and how is this significant"

im a bit unsure of what that is asking, what is the form of a poem??

examples would be helpfull :) thanks

2007-08-11 21:27:55 · 3 answers · asked by Anonymous

my name is daya, strange name, even i dont like it. i am a mechanical engineer. but i like writing poems, stories, plays , thoughts and songs for a local band and articles for a national newpaper. i am currently working with a american software firm called EDS. i have a very expensive 1500 cc bike which i ride in each and every corner of my city. i live in pune, near mumbai (bombay) and i like making documentaries with my handycam. and i run my own website www.dsklaws.freewebspace.com and what more, practically i am damn lazy but like everything under the sun.

2007-08-11 20:43:08 · 2 answers · asked by angelboy_23 2

My left hand encompasses,
the woman that’s still me

My right hand touches,
the space I use to be.

I am not who I use to be,
though inside I’m the same.

I am no different,
For I am still me.

2007-08-11 20:27:06 · 9 answers · asked by Sam 4

One stranded tear rolls down her right cheek and falls down on the collar of her new dress. She looks at him with those saddened eyes in complete disbelief. Is this really happening? No. It can’t be. He would never do something like this to her. But reality is beginning to catch up with her. She is just starting to know the truth though she really doesn’t want to hear it right now. Everything was perfect. She was going to tell him that she loves him. And now he does this to her? She sighs deeply as another tear is forming at the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry” he says in a quiet voice. He then puts a hand on her shoulder and walks out of her life forever. She is now abandoned in this dreary street. The rain pours down on her. The dress she just bought for him is soaked with the water. She can not stand any longer for her knees have just given out, so she collapses to the hard rocky asphalt. She holds her head in her hands and weeps. She would rather die than feel this way. Why did he do this? How could he?

2007-08-11 20:00:51 · 11 answers · asked by Anonymous

i'm not really good in writing even if i enjoy it so could you comment on this one.

looking through our album
i remember our past
we were so happy
in everything we do

a teardrop fell
as i continue to reminisce
the past we have shared
the warmth i had felt

i tell you my problems
you listened intently
you were always there
and never gave up on me

a perfect friend
is what you are to me
for you have helped me
on my long journey

another tear
rolled down my cheek
as i gaze at the stars
and went back to reality

you're no longer here
it has been months
since you left me
and i miss you still.

2007-08-11 19:52:05 · 7 answers · asked by Anonymous

I'm doing a project for my church, and am in need of a few (maybe three) poems that have a fun tone to them. They can't be crude (this is CHURCH stuff) and its for families, so it needs to be something that toddlers will like, but tweens will, too.

I've already used Tweedle dum and Tweedle dee and part of the Walrus and the Carpenter.

Any suggestions? Thanks!

2007-08-11 16:59:31 · 3 answers · asked by missmerry 4

title:_________________.


thought when you said it was over
I could let you go and move on
But I guess I was wrong
I cant seem to stop thinking about you
And those stupid love songs
And simple things
Always remind me of you
And what I use to have.
And what we use to be.
Basically I cant get over you.
And I wish I could.
because i know there could never be another 'us'

2007-08-11 16:43:56 · 15 answers · asked by mee. 1

I was free as I can be
till credit hit the scene
now freedoms lost
to credits cost
now I have to leave
Uncle Sam he knows my name
his finger points at me
were can I go
that he don't know
I pray you leave me be.

2007-08-11 15:49:36 · 4 answers · asked by Anonymous

We have to do this extended metaphor poem about us being something of nature. It can`t be anything of the animal kindgom or some object of nature.

2007-08-11 14:28:52 · 7 answers · asked by Anonymous

Don't Be A Stranger

Though the light shines bright
You will not enter
Why do you stand afar off
In the darkness
Is there a pain that hinders
Or is rebellion your only freedom
Does chaos reign in the intricacies
And is order just a weak realm
Will the love you seek
Be found in the dark mist
For you were issued from light
But you resist to return
If eyes do not lie
Then view mine
And find some measure
Of truth, logic and love
A shadowy step
I offer you to climb
So that your brightness
Will be brighter than mine

2007-08-11 13:05:40 · 15 answers · asked by ignoramus_the_great 7

Ode To Poe

Dark, decrepit, dreary damned night
Fills my bowels with stones of fright
My eyes shift from the left to the right
While shadows dance in the pale moonlight

No human should walk the earth at this hour
Per chance to meet some unearthly power
I watch, I listen, I dodge, I cower
While heart burns, stomach churns, and mouth tastes sour

The cold wind howls with evil glee
Anticipating my destiny
I know some spectre waits for me
To rend, to end mortality

I watch it standing up ahead
With fingers of bone and eyes of red
Beckoning me to join the dead
I change my path, with feet of lead

I begin to tremble and I can swear
If only in mind, there's something here
And I die in waiting, there's death in fear
Damned night be gone, glorious dawn appear

2007-08-11 13:04:43 · 5 answers · asked by ignoramus_the_great 7

Pain, Rain & Music

Now he’s got the girl
And I’ve got the pain
He’s got the honey
And I’ve got the rain

He gets kisses
While I get insane
But I got music
Running round in my brain

Pain inspired to compose
Black and Decker prose
A rose is a rose
But ends in woes

Her voice is gone
Let my heart sing
Of the days of spring
She was everything

Now absence from me
I must drown in the sea
Let the wave cover my agony
My agony

When I rise again
From the depths
From the precepts
I must accept
My all alone steps

And it doesn’t matter
That I shatter the quiet
With a musical riot
Cause deep down inside
I just don’t buy it

Cause he’s got the girl
And I’ve got the pain
He’s got the honey
And I’ve got the rain…

2007-08-11 13:03:27 · 7 answers · asked by ignoramus_the_great 7

L’Oneliness

What mountain is higher than loneliness
And what valley is lower than despair
For my heart is torn in the wake of apathy
And I long for a life to share

The light stays dim behind my shades
And all the shadows glow
My voice echoes off the wall
With words that I don’t know

An orange beam filters in
Unwelcome guest in my room
What right the sun to be so bright
When I am filled with deadly gloom

My heart beats irregular
And my thoughts have no pattern
And I hear the wicked laughter
Because the ravens are a-gathering

My soul is on the wire
This might be the end
All the darkness, all the pain
Just cause

2007-08-11 13:02:10 · 5 answers · asked by ignoramus_the_great 7

Me, Your ID

If orange were red
And red were blue
Would you look at me
If I said I was you

If the truth were a lie
And a lie were a joke
Could you tell my painting
By the stroke

Cause you plagiarize
And you stole from me
Now a lie you are
And shall ever be

When the sun gets mad
Orange turns to red
And the strokes on the canvas
Is where I bled

Now you are me
And I got what I’m due
And a joke is a joke
Cause I stole from you too

2007-08-11 13:00:58 · 1 answers · asked by ignoramus_the_great 7

It's one of my own, called Remains. And it is copyrighted.

The deeds of great men are soon forgotten
nothing remains but rotted stones and decaying leaves
Rain through the ages erases all memories
and the years fly by endlessly without a sound

The din of tragic battles and the blood that was shed
fades quickly to no more than a whisper
and an unintelligible stain, leaving questions unanswered;
No one is left to voice a response

The bleak sun illuminates the myriad graves
that are now the home of our heroic fallen
The timbre of their voices and their deeds
now ghosts on the frigid wind

And so soon we shall, not only forget,
but be forgotten, as no one is left to remember
The stories will grow taller and contain less truth
then finally disappear altogether

The wars we wage, and the riches we plunder
will burn to ashes and blow away
Whatever is accomplished will be undone
and nothing, even a remnant, will remain

2007-08-11 11:47:15 · 11 answers · asked by The_Cricket: Thinking Pink! 7

lost.

i'm lost
and i don't know what to do
my mind is so confused
must be thinkin' too hard
about you

i miss you
you're the first girl i had
we sailed a thousand seas
undercovers
and now i lie here drowning
wondering who the other is

come back to me
just this once
i swear i won't let you down
embrace me one last time
because i'm lost
without you

2007-08-11 11:39:36 · 3 answers · asked by airjenrich4truth 1

You can study all the forms know all the great practitioners and never come close to this by a man who probably couldn't even write.

Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. Today is fair. Tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds. My words are like the stars that never change. Whatever Seattle says, the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty as he can upon the return of the sun or the seasons. The white chief says that Big Chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill. This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return. His people are many. They are like the grass that covers vast prairies. My people are few. They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain. The great, and I presume -- good, White Chief sends us word that he wishes to buy our land but is willing to allow us enough to live comfortably. This indeed appears just, even generous, for the Red Man no longer has rights that he need respect, and the offer may be wise, also, as we are no longer in need of an extensive country.

There was a time when our people covered the land as the waves of a wind-ruffled sea cover its shell-paved floor, but that time long since passed away with the greatness of tribes that are now but a mournful memory. I will not dwell on, nor mourn over, our untimely decay, nor reproach my paleface brothers with hastening it, as we too may have been somewhat to blame.

Youth is impulsive. When our young men grow angry at some real or imaginary wrong, and disfigure their faces with black paint, it denotes that their hearts are black, and that they are often cruel and relentless, and our old men and old women are unable to restrain them. Thus it has ever been. Thus it was when the white man began to push our forefathers ever westward. But let us hope that the hostilities between us may never return. We would have everything to lose and nothing to gain. Revenge by young men is considered gain, even at the cost of their own lives, but old men who stay at home in times of war, and mothers who have sons to lose, know better.

Our good father in Washington--for I presume he is now our father as well as yours, since King George has moved his boundaries further north--our great and good father, I say, sends us word that if we do as he desires he will protect us. His brave warriors will be to us a bristling wall of strength, and his wonderful ships of war will fill our harbors, so that our ancient enemies far to the northward -- the Haidas and Tsimshians -- will cease to frighten our women, children, and old men. Then in reality he will be our father and we his children. But can that ever be? Your God is not our God! Your God loves your people and hates mine! He folds his strong protecting arms lovingly about the paleface and leads him by the hand as a father leads an infant son. But, He has forsaken His Red children, if they really are His. Our God, the Great Spirit, seems also to have forsaken us. Your God makes your people wax stronger every day. Soon they will fill all the land. Our people are ebbing away like a rapidly receding tide that will never return. The white man's God cannot love our people or He would protect them. They seem to be orphans who can look nowhere for help. How then can we be brothers? How can your God become our God and renew our prosperity and awaken in us dreams of returning greatness? If we have a common Heavenly Father He must be partial, for He came to His paleface children. We never saw Him. He gave you laws but had no word for His red children whose teeming multitudes once filled this vast continent as stars fill the firmament. No; we are two distinct races with separate origins and separate destinies. There is little in common between us.

To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground. You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret. Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by the iron finger of your God so that you could not forget. The Red Man could never comprehend or remember it. Our religion is the traditions of our ancestors -- the dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems, and is written in the hearts of our people.

Your dead cease to love you and the land of their nativity as soon as they pass the portals of the tomb and wander away beyond the stars. They are soon forgotten and never return. Our dead never forget this beautiful world that gave them being. They still love its verdant valleys, its murmuring rivers, its magnificent mountains, sequestered vales and verdant lined lakes and bays, and ever yearn in tender fond affection over the lonely hearted living, and often return from the happy hunting ground to visit, guide, console, and comfort them.

Day and night cannot dwell together. The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man, as the morning mist flees before the morning sun. However, your proposition seems fair and I think that my people will accept it and will retire to the reservation you offer them. Then we will dwell apart in peace, for the words of the Great White Chief seem to be the words of nature speaking to my people out of dense darkness.

It matters little where we pass the remnant of our days. They will not be many. The Indian's night promises to be dark. Not a single star of hope hovers above his horizon. Sad-voiced winds moan in the distance. Grim fate seems to be on the Red Man's trail, and wherever he will hear the approaching footsteps of his fell destroyer and prepare stolidly to meet his doom, as does the wounded doe that hears the approaching footsteps of the hunter.

A few more moons, a few more winters, and not one of the descendants of the mighty hosts that once moved over this broad land or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit, will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours. But why should I mourn at the untimely fate of my people? Tribe follows tribe, and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless. Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come, for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We will see.

We will ponder your proposition and when we decide we will let you know. But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Our departed braves, fond mothers, glad, happy hearted maidens, and even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season, will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits. And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children's children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone.

Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless. Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds.

2007-08-11 10:42:06 · 7 answers · asked by Anonymous

If I could be
What you want me;
Then that is just what I would be;
But then; you see...
What I would be;
Is certainly not me.

But I; you see;
Could also be...
Kind..loving and free;
And then I'd still be me...

2007-08-11 10:38:19 · 7 answers · asked by Anonymous

Looking at the past
The days that we had
Remembering our memories
The good times and the bad

I regret not telling you
The feelings I had inside
I knew it wouldn't matter
So I pushed them aside

I continued every day
Pretending I was fine
But deep down inside
I was wishing you were mine

You may be gone
But forever in my heart
Though you're in a better place
We will never be apart

You're up in the heavens
An angel you have become
I loved you oh so much
I thought you could be "The One"

I just wish you knew
I loved you with all my heart
I wish we could go back
And make a brand new start

But now it is too late
You will never know
The emotions I've felt
And how I loved you so

I guess this is the end
Our final goodbye
Knowing you are gone
Always makes me cry


this was written to my bestfriend that passed away, i was inlove with him since i was 8 year old but never told him..
R.I.P nick. i miss you

2007-08-11 08:58:22 · 10 answers · asked by Kelli-Anne h 1

May we all live in harmony
Yoked in love and peace

Never forget a friendly face
And treasure those who's least
My time is short for this I know
Eternity's at the door

Intentions well, as I've been told
Senserity I adore

My feelings hurt easy when I am slammed
Eleventh hour approaching near
Life's handing out pain and poison
Vendication is all I hear
Isolated from the people
Not a reason to jerk a tear

Old school I miss, from time to time
Keep smiling through the fear.

?

2007-08-11 08:01:43 · 5 answers · asked by Anonymous

The Power of Music

Head nodding pressure
Excitement in the air
Jumping up and down
As if you don't care,
What makes us feel this way?
Why do we lose control?
When the music starts playing
We start heading towards the dance floor,
Music fills the void
Emptyness destroyed
Lightening our hearts
Making every moment enjoyed,
The soul opens up
The blood starts to flow
Moving to the beat
You start to feel the glow,
I know what to do
Found my release
Listening to music
Mypain is eased,
The music keeps beat
Movement creates heat
No sense of pain
I can't take my seat,
Another song starts
The pain now returns
Happiness is gone
Tears start to burn,
Remembering the past
Hoping the memory will pass
Understanding there's no going back
Knowing the feelings won't last,
Left here to think
I'm here all alone
No one hears my sobs
They feel so cold,
Then the mood is changed
The energy returns
i'm off the floor again
The pain no longer burns...

2007-08-11 07:51:18 · 11 answers · asked by Argent 4

bird.

when i see you
i flap me fetters
Sqwak! Sqwak!
stay away from my tree
Sqwak! Sqwak!
let me live free

2007-08-11 07:02:29 · 9 answers · asked by airjenrich4truth 1

early in the morning
this warm sun
awakes me
i dont need so much sun
i want to stay
in the northside on window
in the country side of emotions
Later i want to escape in the arms of the night
Hey
i dont need that sun
to brake my thoughts in drops of running seconds
into strange reality

2007-08-11 05:50:56 · 6 answers · asked by Anonymous

...see if you can answer this question without sarcasm, please.

2007-08-11 05:21:45 · 8 answers · asked by Anonymous

Will you star this poem if you like it?
Some Say I'm Brainwashed
By Semper Fi 83 8/11/07

When you say I'm brainwashed,
Does that mean my thoughts are clean?
You read my mind somehow,
And failed to find something mean?
Just because I praise the Lord,
You laugh, point, ridicule,
Or yawn at me like you're bored.

That only makes me love God more!
Behold! He stands knocking!
Who will open up the door?
Lord I will, I will, open my heart.
I pray thee Father,
Let nothing tear us apart.

I need you,
Like I need air to breathe.
Am I brainwashed,
If I pray on my knees?

Am I brainwashed,
If I cherish Your Word.
Am I brainwashed,
That when you called, I heard!

Then let me be Father,
Totally washed of the brain!
For i will never use Your Holy Name in vain!

2007-08-11 05:21:28 · 13 answers · asked by Anonymous

Firefly

Thou' twilight yards,
darken shades of color,
seen by moonlight.
Fireflies dance,
on currents of air,
flashing for mates.
Children chase,
tiny beacons of light.
Fun and games for one!
Life and death for other!

2007-08-11 04:43:09 · 5 answers · asked by Coop 366 7

Life's Journey

We creep, we crawl, we stand, we fall,
Only to begin again.
We learn, we grow, we reap, we sow,
Only to begin again.
We meet, we mate, we love, we hate,
Only to begin again.
We laugh, we cry, we live, we die,
Only to begin,
Again.


Poem by Touche.

2007-08-11 02:03:30 · 5 answers · asked by Anonymous

I have posted this before but I didn't get many responses and I'd like some nice creative criticism too thanks.

Burial For Love.



You're buried out with the bones of my dead memories in the backyard mortuary next to the cemetary of long gone dreams.
You used to mean everything but now you mean nought, no more do I wish to sought for feelings not worth it and best left forgotten since I've fought them too many times over again and again.
It's no use holding onto to something that goes around and around whining like a broken recording on forever spin.
All's fair in love and war they say but I think nay, everyone has to pay to eventually win.

6/8/07
© S.N.Hammond.


PS: Nobody even think about plagarizing this ethier!

2007-08-10 23:51:48 · 13 answers · asked by ♆Şрhĩņxy - Lost In Time. 7