Poetry

I am writing a poem...it's a rhyming poem....the last words so far are sad/bad, princess/mess, shared/cared, courage/marriage, pain/gain, me/see, cherish/ wish, heart/part, you/true, return/earn...I am at a loss for words that rhyme with eternity. does jeopardy rhyme with eternity?

2007-12-01 18:22:20 · 8 answers · asked by goaliegirl87 2

HELP...

2007-12-01 16:33:23 · 3 answers · asked by NarutoFox9 1

his whisper inside my ear
singing a song of sadness
while i live in nothingness
trying to feel something
besides the touch
ive imagined so many times
the cool breeze on my back
reminds me of a diffrent day
a day when you were here
by my side
now all thats left of you
is what i choose to rember when i sleep
but now im awake
and enter into my state of solitary
nothingness

2007-12-01 16:25:33 · 7 answers · asked by *renfield* 3

For me I like to think, to dwel on "meaningless" thing. I love the art, and I love to learn, but to write is such a drag. Most of my poems are ment for music and lyrics would be there name some day, but does this mean that I'm not a poet, or (for the music is not writen) not a composer yet?

The art matters not,
and to be quite frank
I've been told that it is formless and old
some find it dole and some find it boring,
But I, But I find these things most enthraling
I wish I could wright
I trully do
but like the snake on sis belly, and will never stand
I've been cursed not to write by hand

Alas I cannot spell so well, and thus the meaning for my not writing so much as I say. I wish that God had planted a lesser curse :( However the technology is a great help, so I supose I could if i wanted to spen hours in fornt of this vary screen
But is there a reson to write thses down? For no one to see? For no one to read? Alas I know not what I am, or what will become of me.

2007-12-01 16:16:24 · 2 answers · asked by CD 3

Wanna Be A Witch?

I wanna be a witch
When I grow up...
Awww, can I, can I,
Can I...? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

Purty pleeeeeeeze!

Then I'll be in a
Coven...and,
Bow to the Devil...
Uh, wait a sec...

One..two...three...
Forty five, fifty eight...
NEVER MIND! ! !
Too many Devils here...

........................................BUT, applications can be obtained at the front
........................................office, after 10a.m....many related perks...

2007-12-01 15:17:43 · 7 answers · asked by Elysabeth 7

.....Evening's Kiss


In the Evening, sounds get
Softer, until there's a hush
Which settles as powder
Snow would...leaving the
Earth almost velvet, gentle,
Soothing the last, worn,
Tiredness...
'I'm almost home...almost
There.'
Felt by man, animal, alike.
Evenings are not the end
Of the day...just a breathing
Of kindness, a faint kiss on
Cheeks.
You look around...no one
There.
Oh, there was something
There...it was Evening's
Kiss...until you meet again

Elysabeth Faslund...Poemhunter.com

2007-12-01 14:21:15 · 2 answers · asked by Elysabeth 7

Live like the birds
(12/1/07)

Our vision is distorted
from the diamond's gleam
blinded from warm morals,
recklessly grasping for shallow dreams

We all have imprinted our brains
of wealth equaling a reality of bliss
when in reality it buries us in dense pride
as our laws of morals are remiss

Oh, I feel like I'm possessed
by of a curse of corosive desires
casted by gleaming stones
so exquistive in raging fire

So lets become outlaws,
for having hues of a tranquill blue
contrast of the hues of red whose
gluttony morphs them into pure fools

Strip our eyes of gleams
of diamond and gold
enable our inner serene
breeze to unfold

Throw away our transparent
burdens one by one
in cleansing
of our meditation

Lets live like the birds,
and yield to deviation.

2007-12-01 14:07:57 · 7 answers · asked by Taja B 4

O
to see a Fire
Pit)
Falling embers from the sky
Dancing
Moving
FLoating
Buring in my Ey)e
Need to get warm) heat
Flowing through my Sk)jn the heat
Roasting hotdogs, and drinking coco
Warm my body

My fireplace

2007-12-01 13:50:54 · 3 answers · asked by Poet master 1

2007-12-01 13:10:35 · 6 answers · asked by katey 1

just keep me,simple
to keep me safe.
do so love
the first breath
winter.
so many changes,
so many seasions.
glad to walk,along this way,
once again.
snow covered footprints..
not one would know
i was here.
do so long this,
first breath of winter,
first breath,of virgin snow,,,
comfort many will never know.

Dorian,

2007-12-01 12:54:29 · 8 answers · asked by dorian 3

I'm very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very excited. But am I excited!!!!!!!!? OMG!!! Poetry is super hard!!!!

2007-12-01 12:12:59 · 11 answers · asked by Anonymous

People say that the poem 'fleas' is the shortest but I think I found a shorter one. Prob is I can't remember where I read it.

It's called 'Ode to a Goldfish'

'O Wet Pet'

Thus The shortest poem ever written!!

Fleas has four syllables - this has only three.

2007-12-01 11:37:27 · 9 answers · asked by Anonymous

A Woman Says 'Talk Dirty To Me'...(humor) *


A woman runs around the house all day
Thinking 'This night, I'll play,
I'll tickle his fancy when he gets home.
After all, I've cleaned, cooked, all alone.'

Then through the door her man appears
With bundles of flowers, a case of beer,
His caseload of work, and smiling still!
The woman is happy! Steaks on the grill! !

They dine with candles alight,
He pats her ***, whispers, 'Tonight.'
She's bought a naughty at a store.
Slithers into bed and hears the snore!

Slithers out of bed, smashes a plate
Loud enough to begin a debate.
He stumbles, grumbles into the room
Where his love is flying a broom.

'What's THAT all about, what's the matter? '
As another plate flies at his head to shatter,
She spits, 'I'm going home to Mother! '
'You ARE your mother, doen't even bother.'

Elysabeth Faslund...Poemhunter.com

2007-12-01 11:01:50 · 5 answers · asked by Elysabeth 7

I hate this site. Well, I used to love it, until I met the devil in Mary's clothing. I must go elsewhere. Someone please help/

2007-12-01 11:01:18 · 7 answers · asked by Chara Pointshot 4

writing a sensual poem for my partner and really really nead a word that rhymes with heaven apart from seven please help

2007-12-01 10:04:11 · 12 answers · asked by Anonymous

The Terza Rima

*****
Go! Go! Go!

Wheels on the ground turning round and around,
On boards, on trikes and on red motor bikes,
Take us to places we’d never have found,

Better than sitting or taking a hike,
The sun, the rain and the wind tantalize,
Walking and riding are quite unalike,

Streets sign and curves wind, they do hypnotize,
A map can not show where a road does not go,
The trip is unplanned, to a stop realized.

*****

2007-12-01 07:57:59 · 5 answers · asked by Anonymous

*****
Trapping Spree

Escalator ups and downs,
Each platform leads to another,
No sales floor, no exit door,
Just landing after landing after landing,

Elevator door ajar,
Stuck between two floors,
Stairwell locked, barred and blocked
Crimson rope line circles and circles,

Run against cascading steps,
Folding one into the other,
Out at the top, in at the bottom,
Leap entire flights, in flight, alight

Exhausted heap upon the floor,
I cannot climb up or down anymore,
I’ll wither and die, right here in isle five,
Fifth store, fifth floor, fifth door,

*****

2007-12-01 07:53:43 · 8 answers · asked by Anonymous

*****
Ardbeg

Swing the scythe lively, lads
Harvest’s upon us now
Barleycorn’s brown, ready to malt
Fire the peat slowly
Spring water and grist to grind
To sweetwort in washback
Lively yeast is applied

Into the still goes the wash
Caldron will bring us low wine
Then into the spirit still
Last to the oaken barrels
Then stored by the sea
For a very long a time

The Yanks make good Bourbon
Tennessee fired oak style
Using the casks just one time
Send them to Scotland, men
We’ll store strong drink within
To be sipped on, in thirty years time

*****

2007-12-01 07:51:39 · 4 answers · asked by Anonymous

*****
Critique

That’s…not…art!
It does not make my head hurt
It doesn’t make me do the ding dong dance

That’s…not…poetry
It failed to make me jump the ledge
There is no fun inside of this for me
No guns, no knives nor bigotry

That’s…not…painting
There’s no fire, there’s no evil, there’s no hating
You call this work of yours a triumph
This silly bit of hope and guidance…

*****

2007-12-01 07:49:58 · 4 answers · asked by Anonymous

An Old Man Told Me This*


Walk with no shoes...walk quietly.
Walk like a new mother,
Watching her babe.
Walk, not speaking, as close to
Sunset as you can.
Walk when there are no clouds
In the sky.

Tiptoe to the waves' edge. Stop.
Do not touch the water.
It is not yet time.
Listen, until the sun touches the
Horizon.

Now. Fill your hands with water,
Foam, the sea. The Mother.
What do you feel...what do you
Sense?
They are all there...in your hands...
Dinosaurs, Neanderthal, ancestor
Reptiles, Rameses, Montezuma...

Eternity cannot compare to their
Peace.
All now gone...have found the
Beginning.
No more will they return.
We have lost them...not to bones,
Ashes.

To a place in Time where they come
And go as they please.
They will know you, eventually,
By the feel of your hands...
Reverence in your eyes...
Sorrow in your heart.
For there is no Heaven, only
Continuity...
In the Sea.

Elysabeth Faslund...Poemhunter.com

2007-12-01 05:58:24 · 4 answers · asked by Elysabeth 7

Please read and comment. If you read this comment on it!!!


my cat, my flower, my rose
from her soft white fur to her cold pink nose
her, on my bed, in the middle of the night
when I am upset she makes everything right
she leaps she bounces
and at three AM she pounces
she is is always ready to play
and when she poops on my bed I love her anyway

2007-12-01 04:26:49 · 4 answers · asked by kittenlova 3

"It's just a paper moon floating over a cardboard sea, but it wouldn't be make believe if you believed in me."

Do you know the rest of the poem, the title or the author?

I would appreciate it! Thanks!

2007-12-01 03:57:01 · 3 answers · asked by Brittany L 3

The beautiful, perfect, deep rich red,
A wonderful shroud over a humble head.
Like a ruby in the July sun it shines,
Edges sparkling with golden lines.

The velvety softness of the shroud,
So humble, yet oh-so-proud.
A rough thorny body that easily harms,
Yet so quickly and magically charms.

The purfumy scent as I slowly breathe in,
Smelling so sweet it should be a sin.
I don't want to leave the blissful place,
The scent surrounds me so I'm completely encased.

The musical words of love that he speaks to me.
Is he talking about us? Is he talking about we?
Is he making a promise of happily-ever-after,
Or just giving me a fun moment, filled with laughter?

2007-12-01 03:06:47 · 8 answers · asked by PinkElmo 2

Now, I don't think I'm the greatest poet and I also can't remember how I got the inspiration to write this either.

Anyway it's called Frogs and Dogs:

Frogs and Dogs in togs, sat on a log, overlooking a briny bog.
Hogs and Mogs at a bar, drinking Egg-nog, get up and jog through a busy fog, moving fast like clockwork cogs.
Those frogs and dogs jump off that log then swim about in that briny bog,
While the hogs and mogs, they stop their jog and make their way slowly out of that busy fog.

The frogs, dogs, hogs and mogs all meet up upon that log.
Then… the mogs chase the frogs, while the dogs chase the mogs, and the hogs chase the dogs.
While the hogs and mogs get lost in the fog, the frogs and dogs escape in their togs whilst swimming fast and far in that briny bog.
The hogs and mogs jog, back to the bar to continue drinking like never-ending clockwork cogs, their favourite drink, Egg-nog.

- 15/10/02

© Cpt.Peggy_Leg

2007-12-01 02:55:45 · 8 answers · asked by ♆Şрhĩņxy - Lost In Time. 7

*****
Selective Saints

Mary and all the Martyrs
A bravery we no longer notice
Christ-like compassion’s passé
For the sake of profit
All God’s laws are quite vague

A golden pathway requires investment
Who will manage it?
Men of money and power charge by the hour

Hooray for the Red, White and Blue
All for you…and yours…but what about theirs?
Sculpted hair, tattoos and a chrome plated booger

Look at me!
Mary and all the Martyrs?
Is that a band?

*****

2007-12-01 02:31:31 · 4 answers · asked by Anonymous

*****

Before Mohammad, city of Baghdad,
On the Tigris, kingdom of the Persians,
Before son Jesus, city of Baghdad,

Before your George Bush, city of Baghdad,
Flowing waters on a parched sand desert,
Before the Romans, city of Baghdad,

Before Sheik Omar, city of Baghdad,
In Islam’s Golden Age of Mathematics,
Before Buwayhids, city of Baghdad,

Before Timur the Lame, city of Baghdad,
Sacked again by the Turks and the Mongols
Before Ottoman, city of Baghdad,

Before the British, city of Baghdad,
War to end all wars, and then another,
Before bombs dropping, city of Baghdad,

Before death Saddam, city of Baghdad,
Stop the killing of women and children,
Before rebuilding, city of Baghdad,

*****

2007-12-01 02:29:20 · 3 answers · asked by Anonymous

I'm wanting to make a website to put my poems on, what would be a good name for it? Look at my previous poem questions for ideas if u want.

2007-12-01 02:17:43 · 4 answers · asked by PinkElmo 2

*****
Richard

Enger-lish is hard, you see
Words, segments, and sentence-ease
It's harder still,
On beer and pills,
And reefer makes it worse
I suggest you put these down,
Before you work on complex verse

*****

2007-12-01 02:10:03 · 10 answers · asked by Anonymous

*****
Dave

Hey Friend
Where you been'
Geez, your hair's a mess

Hey Kid
Looks like you skid
Smack dab on your face

Get up son
You better run
Here comes the frikkin cops!

*****

2007-12-01 02:08:28 · 3 answers · asked by Anonymous

*****
Steve

Nonsensical inkblot dribbler,
Babbling crayon scribbler,
You don’t care about art, do you?
Oh fountain of horrible Haiku.

Worrisome wobbling meddler,
Cornball muffin fluff peddler,
Simpleton rhyming, Keystone Kop timing,
Butt jokes, eye pokes, then miming.

When will you ever get serious?
These puns, they make me delirious,
I want to hear more about politics,
Not your friends and their hockey sticks!

Our most highly respected scholar,
He’s downstairs in cards for a dollar,
His pen, a burden unbearable,
Mediocrity, oh so terrible.

*****

2007-12-01 02:07:09 · 7 answers · asked by Anonymous