Poetry

{I really appreciate all your feedback, thank you so much in advance *^_^*}



*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
~*S*N*O*W*S*L*E*D*~
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*



*I *remember *my *old *snow sled*
*I *got *it *at *age *five*
*It's *first *use *was *in *a *blizzard*
*then *I *was *hospitalized*
*My *little *dog *named *Skippy*
*was *taken *to *the *vet*
*cause *my *sled *and *I *ran *over*
*my *best'est *family *pet*
*Well *after *hitting *Skippy*
*that *sled *and *I *slid *on*
*and *crashed *into *a *dumpster*
*who's *trash *was *not *yet *gone*
*We *were *taken *to *the *dump*
*and *left *behind *in *trash*
*I *crawled *out *and *grabbed *my *sled*
*but *it *was *bruised *and *bashed*
*So *I *left *it *at *the *dump site*
*and *made *my *way *back *home*
*but, *I *never *did *make *it
*Paramedics *found *me *froze*
*Well, *Skippy *and *I *later*got *back *home *
*tucked *tightly *in *warm *beds*
*And *the *snow *outside *got *heavy *again*
*I *don't *miss *that *old *snow sled*

2007-07-09 15:18:13 · 11 answers · asked by ? 3

Sneaky Sarah









+Sneaky
+++Sarah
NotSoMeek
HangsRound
++Corners
++JustTo
++Peek
When
SheGets
ThereWhat
WillSheSee?
SetRoundThe
+++TableHer
++++Family
+WhatAre
+++They
Doing?
What
Will
They
Speak?
WhatWill
+SheHear?
+ThisGirlNot
++++++Meek.
+++++++++++
++++++++++++
++
++
++
++
++
++++++
++++++

2007-07-09 15:10:22 · 11 answers · asked by ? 3

what was the name of the poem?

2007-07-09 13:51:09 · 3 answers · asked by Anonymous

I used to have a card with the Moving Forward poem on it. It was a positive card and the poem was about leaving a situation and taking steps to a more positive situation. Does anyone know the peom?

2007-07-09 12:45:38 · 6 answers · asked by Puss in Boots 4

This a Poem the Lord gave to me just last evening when I was answering a question..

This is a True story, it is about my sweet daughter who was in a car accident on 9/9/04..She suffered a severe brain injury.. :(


Thank-You Lord

Dear God Thank-You for getting my letter..
My sweet daughter feels so much better..

Thank-You for sparing her life..
Though my daughter had to go through, so much strife..
You were there to see her through..
You mended her heart and made her new..

She was hurt that doctors had said: beyond repair..
But You dear Lord, showed how much You care..
You mended her body then her heart..
Now she wakes up each day and gives thanks to You, before she starts..

Each day brings more blessings, than we could ever know..
Her Love for You, will always show..
Other may laugh or say she is not right..
But we both thank God..she is still with us tonight..

July 8, 2007


In Jesus Most Precious Name..
With Love..In Christ.. :)

2007-07-09 11:58:48 · 14 answers · asked by EyeLovesJesus 6

No confluence to the last one. But hey, I'm no expert. I just make these up on the spot, no drafts.



My eyes are worn with the tears of strangers
I look out upon my world with despiration
We are blind to the problems of the past
On this ride of life, locked in repetition

The world is in turmoil
And for what?
They say peace
Forget that

The blood of young men cannot cure us

Give youth the reins
We have a mind and you will see
A world of "freedom" and "liberty"




oops, my rhyming is off... oh well.

2007-07-09 11:26:57 · 9 answers · asked by rawrrr! 1

Tell me what you think of this poem.

When tonic is poured

and you cannot drink

though law allows

for intoxication

then,

life is empty.

If your eyes are wide with anticipation

for the taste,

the first taste

of social lubrication

yet,

you do not indulge

then,

life is empty.

21 is gone and soon

22

and I have yet to drink as if

I were celebrating

freedom,

that's when you realize

life is empty.

So open my mouth

lick my lips

and feel the burn of satisfaction

as glossy eyes squint

and bumbling feet stumble me home

then I will know

life

is not empty.

2007-07-09 10:28:41 · 14 answers · asked by Ash 2

2007-07-09 09:38:05 · 1 answers · asked by Anonymous

i want to see what you think about my new poem and what you think it may be about. i have had a lot of heartache lately and i wrote to possibly help me. so yeah tell me if you like it and if it makes sense!
BEST ANSWER 10 POINTS... WILL REPLY WITH B/A IN 2 OR LESS DAYS!!!!!


“The Recovery”

How can something be so wonderful, yet such a disaster?
The times we spent together, I will look at as a happy never after.
Imagination fills your mind with false belief.
Never really growing to the fact truth might bring more relief.

A world where someone lives an eternity and never goes away
Not just a picture I look at in the corner of my room each day.
Would do wonders to the soul that is cracked forever.
Never really facing reality and all of its forceful endeavors

Heaven is a wondrous place once some get to reach.
It is like the amazing sunsets that last forever at the beach.
The rays protruding from clouds are angelic and full of peace.
Like all of the troubles erase when I look out onto the water, completely ceased

Soon there will be a time when all of this will make sense.
When thinking of our old times together won’t nearly seem as dense
Time can be a felon that steals you completely blind.
Gone in a split second, with a complete absent mind

Moving on takes inner strength that some never detect.
Completely lead in the wrong direction, not knowing what to expect.
Will anything ever be like it once was before?
Not having to run from the truth, to completely ignore.

2007-07-09 08:02:30 · 5 answers · asked by Anonymous

"modern poetry shifts its emphasis from the limited canvas of the individual to a wider canvas of mankind,its movements and thinking in which' man' is posited in a ' spot'( the arc of blood by seshendra sarma, page 10)

2007-07-09 05:24:06 · 6 answers · asked by geyamala 7

hair blowing behind you
like black silk ribbons,
laughing with crying eyes.
You hug me tight,
our hair mixing like day and night,
side by side,
when we're together,we fly like two butterflies
on a warm summer day
let's pray
that this day never ends
and we'll always be friends,
just holding hands,
in a golden dance let's play while we're young,
let's have fun
under the setting sun
and
if it falls on us,
you
and I
will fly.
Let's lie
under the stars at night,
the moon can be
our light.
eyes twinkling.
let's play with the
velvety black sky,
and smell the smell
of dark scary nothing.
We can be friends forever
or until the end of
today.
Watching the sunrise together,
remembering giggling with you,
laughing,crying,talk of dying
old and grey,one day.
or maybe we can live forever.

2007-07-09 04:27:22 · 10 answers · asked by Anonymous

2007-07-09 00:04:30 · 28 answers · asked by manu 2

2007-07-08 22:30:37 · 16 answers · asked by Anonymous

A New Wind to Follow

For the moment the wind has stopped blowing
So I have nothing to follow.

I feel lost. Question, where do I go from here? Has my journey ended? Perhaps it’s time for me to take control.

Should I take a new step in a unfamiliar direction?
I want to but my body feels numb.

Maybe in a way I’m trying to tell myself I’m not ready to take control
I guess I have to wait for another wind to follow.

2007-07-08 19:06:09 · 22 answers · asked by wat2do 1

I am me.
Not who you want me to be.
I don't care what you say,
So get out of my way.
I'll do what I want,
And say what I feel.
The words from my mouth,
You won't believe they are real.
Yes, I do love you.
But do you love me?
Because if you did,
You would let me be me.

2007-07-08 18:27:00 · 12 answers · asked by Anonymous

Why do you insist to run from what could have been?
Hearing your voice sends chills all over my skin.
I see you in my sleep, but I just wake to see it was just a dream.
When I first saw you, I had no idea my feelings would be this extreme.

2007-07-08 16:46:30 · 11 answers · asked by Anonymous

DNA


Blood drips silent
from a roses bud
till a droplet
taps the ripples
from the first
drop of blood

Over hangging
is the victim
with a noose on tight
and a sloppy
c-section
that wasn't cut right

Fading in the
distance are a
babys cries
as a monster
takes the infant
while the mother dies

No, he's not
the father nor
any next of kin
he's just a
heartless coward
comitted to sin

Two days later on the
news it's said the
monster's been tracked down
but, the infant
that he sorely took
was no where to be found

20 years later
the case was solved,
a rookie with curiousity,
he had a picture
of the mother, an attitude and
his DNA matched perfectly...

2007-07-08 15:06:10 · 9 answers · asked by ? 3

The curtain has closed,
the play now finished.
A sigh emerges,
the audience diminished.

The theatre is swept,
no memories remain.
A script once held excitedly
falls to the floor in vain.

Walls once lit,
now stained and peeling.
This old theatre
is lacking so much feeling.

Where laughter once resided,
there is now silence.
The applause was calmed—
part of Death’s compliance.

Seats once red
Are fading and stained.
Everyone’s giving up—
Old days not regained.

The lights dimmed,
I return for a last glance.
Nothing remains,
Fate’s not giving another chance.

It’s too late—
a lit stage now black.
Nothing can restore the essence
Death made you lack.

It's a rough draft. I didn't edit it or anything.

2007-07-08 12:55:16 · 10 answers · asked by Savannah 1

Today has been a rough day for writing. I'm not sure what I think about this one--at all. So, feedback is very much appreciated.

Mystery

You spoke to me
in the secret language of thunder.
Words like rain, sweet rain,
vibrating the window pane.
Tapping out simple notes
a gentle message of love

You filled me
with the silent strength of stone.
Sturdy like high walls
set deep within the earth,
immovable, unshakable,
a sure reminder of your faithfulness.

2007-07-08 11:00:37 · 16 answers · asked by Todd 7

See the old woman,
Skin dried from the sun.
Bushels of cotton,
She picked every one.
See her young daughter ,
Down by the track.
Beautiful hair,
Lying on her back.
Here comes a young boy,
Shes known all her life.
Het told her someday
Hell make her his wife.
She has dreams of leaving,
She doesn’t want to stay.
Put she puts off her dreams,
Until another day.
On a warm summer evening,
They go to the show.
He tells her he loves her,
And no one will know.
Many years go by,
And she thinks of her life,
And wonders what would have happened,
In her dream life.

2007-07-08 10:41:42 · 6 answers · asked by Cindy 1

I really need to release alot and i want to learn how to write poems...if you could help me that would be great...give me tips on how to start...where to look inside...all that good stuff...!

2007-07-08 08:39:37 · 11 answers · asked by Anonymous

I'm bored writing this, any creative advise????

2007-07-08 08:22:53 · 4 answers · asked by Celi 2

in the night dark and quiet
a girl tries to scream with all her might
crying for help,her throat goes dry
but no one listens,despite her tone high
closer he steps
her rumbustious voice continues to reverberate
she is alone,yet shows a bold strife
alas!the cruel shows the cruelty and she loses the meaning of her life
now the pains nibble away at the girl
ever so cheerful and voluble
eachtime she remembers that dark day
she has only one thing to say
"Being a girl is a curse,
for they have to always face the worse."

2007-07-07 23:18:12 · 18 answers · asked by Anonymous

The Memory of Snow
(For Michael and Alex)

I. The Snow Teacher

“Yes,” Snow whispers,
“I remember . . .
The Language of Her
Cautiously
Confide fear to me
With question steps
‘Til each one leapt
Then echoed
Buoyantly

And the Little Girl
Learned
To swim In me
Like a Black Swan.”

“Yes,” Snow whispers,
“I remember That One.”

II. The Fisher Boy

Within His dream
He prays He dreams.

But His heart

Alone

Discerns

The truth is true . . .
Awake, asleep.
A candle-like
Memory
Burns.

He casts His eyes
Across the ripples of
Her body’s wake through time . . .

Not yet to infinity
Not yet as glass
This pattern a perfect mime . . .
His cast
A perfect line . . .
For reeling memories.

III. The Snow Boy

“Yes,” Snow whispers,
“I remember . . .
The Language of You
Traipsing paths across my face
Calling for Her
Creating a place
Where you
Believed
There could be love . . .

You were
Eager to love . . .
. . . More, to be loved, deeply
In those first, real
Steps of boy-youth . . . those steps
Earlier
Frozen away . . .
By blizzard.”

“Yes,” Snow whispers,
“I remember
The Language of You.”

IV. The Snow Man

He looks for Her steps
In Snow’s memory
Like returning to sleep
To finish his dream . . .

. . . Tears well in his eye-ponds
Like tadpoles
To sand
They drop to the snow
And he sees as a man.

V. The Beginning

Fisher boy
Casting . . .

Snow boy
Dreaming . . .

Snow man
Awakened
To what is true . . .

You loved.

You were loved.

“Yes,” Snow whispers,
“Now this is the Language of You.”

Margot
January 14, 2001

2007-07-07 19:50:44 · 10 answers · asked by margot 5

Sometimes i can't go to sleep at night,
Is it because youre not by my side,
All i have to do is close my eyes,
And there's youre face in my sight,
Im afraid to go to bed at night,
What if you're not there to tuck me in,
You're not there to hold me tight,
Let me enjoy this beautiful sin,
By spending the night in your arms,
This is my little paradise,
Just you and me for eternity,
Staring into your deep brown eyes,
A goodnight kiss is all i need,
And to my fears i pay no heed,
I'm afraid to step in to bed at night,
What if you're not there tonight,
If you've left me all by myself,
With only your pictures on my shelf,
I stand on the doorstep,
And i close my eyes,
I picture myself in our paradise,
I fall asleep with your smile on my mind,
And i hope when i wake up its you that i find!

2007-07-07 16:16:34 · 13 answers · asked by haz23412 2

My Sweet

Cotton candy,
Licorice whips,
Pecan ice cream,
and chocolate chips

All these things
I love to chew
Are only half
As sweet as you.

2007-07-07 14:43:18 · 11 answers · asked by Duncan w ™ ® 7

2007-07-07 11:57:18 · 9 answers · asked by Anonymous

What is Poetry?
I thought I knew what poetry is, but I was proven wrong. How do we touch the hearts of people with words so strong?

We make people cry, laugh and love
We make people remember a feeling that once was
Poetry is alive. Poetry will never die.

Poetry is an art; a forgotten art
We must do our part to help people remember.

We are artists painting murals with our words
When someone asks us, what is poetry?
We tell them poetry is life.

Let poetry live.

2007-07-07 05:28:42 · 8 answers · asked by wat2do 1

is it any good or wot?

oh woe shalt brimstone pith haveth thee tyme one fairest do
cause roger me tumbles no doubteth thee
o'maiden squarer than thy fair forth entwistled
thee devinee comed unto onto aswell as behathin a pee
hush fer tyme is te no avail or able gluttn n'or sloth
FIN-THE END

2007-07-06 18:42:58 · 17 answers · asked by Anonymous

There's a guinea pig in my vacuum

I. I hear a squeaking in my vacuum as I push forward in a straight line,
pull backward in a straight line and then a swerve.
push, pull
push, pull, and now I'm lost in this algorithm.
The background music is a purr
cued by two snaps of the finger,
rattling of keys, then the Ka-Ch of the CD box opening and
we're a concerto in some key where purring makes sense.
There he goes dancing around the center table
chasing an imaginary tail
There he goes flying off the carpet into hay haven where
trees are stalks of celery and the carrot people offer gold charms.

II. He used to snuggle up with the carpet and watch me like
he had elbows he could rest on
He used to pull my sock with his teeth then run around as if
to say catch me if you can

III. Funny how a farm fire brought you to a pet store and
I found you all alone in a glass box,
in a back room, because of your unusual size: a runt.
A runt is like a girl who believes in tales of fairies and
talking trees or that colors move between her fingers.
A runt is like a boy who believes in tales of space and
star destroyers, or that flickering light can be a message.
Funny how some swerving on a straight and panoramic path
brought us together.

2007-07-05 22:18:34 · 18 answers · asked by Carneliana 2