||[22 Sep 2004|08:41pm]
death of a friend.
a friend once stood
with dignity, as he walked
down the crumbling sidewalks
of this earth. the sun was black,
hidden by clouds.
rain, acid rain
burning depressing holes
into the ground.
he fell, and no longer
stands with pride
but lays, in the shallows of the earth.
this community is dead.
it was fun while it lasted but i am leaving.
||[22 Sep 2004|11:09pm]
I have a feeling noone will read this since this seems to be a dead community. However, someone replied to my last post, so here goes nothing...<lj-cut text="Forgiven">
Lonely in the eternity of the past
shunned me, that thou hast.
Driven me to the edge of the world and back
only to deny me a second time.
Come, breathe in my ear my love,
hum thy steady notes
touch softly with fingers of grace
sing me thy promises
and thou shalt be forgiven
for a lifetime of sin.
||[16 Sep 2004|10:09pm]
I'm extremely inept at introductions as I am ridiculously shy so a few key-points: My name is Amanda, I'm 15 and don't write as often as I used to. When something sparks my interest or plays tag with my nerves, an occasional poem may sprout.
( Here are a couple...Collapse )
||[29 Jul 2004|06:52pm]
This is only a first draft, and while I like it I am not yet entirely happy with it, I think that while I've got the mood down, I'm still just a few steps away from pinning down that emotional resonance, from getting it to say exactly what I want it to say...
Any suggestions of what you think the focus should be more/less on, or areas you'd like more emphasis, would be appreciated. Along, of course, with a general crit.
in a prism of colors
the sun begins to set
sinking down below the horizon
dangling in the sky
waiting, patient, for its time
to fall off the edge of the earth
the world is painted in soft colors
as night falls
the house is dark
and the cold goes too deep
to be fought off
by just putting on a sweater
it is a forlorn sensation
a lonely yearning
that reaches down to the bones
and rattles them in their cage
an unimposing child sits
in the middle of the room
crates and boxes and papers scattered throughout
the external wreckage of the internal storm
being pulled up from his roots
like a plant that had grown
to be kept in the same pot
like being told
that if you follow your path in life
and if you grow too tall
and change too much
you have to pay the consequences
because you can be ripped up
and torn down
and potted and replanted
until this is nothing but a memory
and you may even still have
that when you're standing at the edge of the earth
you will be the first to see
the sun rising
over the hills and lighting the skies
a witness to a tragic beauty
and as day breaks again
and frees you from your shackles
forced into your mold
cut down to your size
unable to bask
in your little flowerpot
it's never home
the second time around.
||[29 Jul 2004|06:05am]
ive posted this in one or two other places and got some good feedback. id like to here what the good omega people have to say before i travel on with it. i think it needs a new title, a better ending, and some stanza cuts. let me know what you would do with it. thanks.
making blowup whores
i played with you
took all your breath,
fed you my mind
that ill whisk you,
to you, this hurts
(afraid) i might...?
bruise this ?
well forget about me,
or ill take you,
(and scream in your ear)
push back the air
now that you need me
this burns i know
but with this bruise
now that you breath me
the pain wont go
the pain flows!
we can stop if you dont
like where it goes
the pain flows...
but stop your lies
if you cant make it through
push back the air
now that i need you
i dont want to go
but here with you
remember to breath here
the pain wont go
but all i know is
i dont want to go
||[28 Jul 2004|02:46pm]
Daggers like hair,
green and rooted,
attempting to rip
the sky, leave it's mark
together quickly falling backward,
pressured from the wind,
while thriving on lawn soil,
in office building,
Humanity is but a blade
Needs A Title
on top of soft, thick
volumes of poetry,
pipe is sending whsisps of signals
from a back pant's rip.
slightly off axis,
attempting visison, clarity
with only illusion
to fall on
Alright just wrote these a few minutes while outside...kinda "intoxicated" so I'm really noy the bst judge. Lemme hear ya thoughts
|A Friendly Reminder From the Mod
||[28 Jul 2004|11:43am]
I'm glad to see this community growing, and so many people looking for solid feedback on their work. Please keep in mind that being an active member of this communtiy entails both posting and reviewing the work of others. To this extent I would like to thank synthp0paddict who has been massively helpful so far in the continuing maintenence of this community.
I realize that I sound vaguely hypocritcal, and that I haven't reviewed nearly as many of your works recently as I should have. Apologies in advance, as I am currently staying with a friend in the District of Colombia for three weeks. I do, however, have computer access, and now that things have settled down I will try my best to take a more active approach to reviewing/critting.
Thank you once again, and you may now return to your regularly scheduled program.
|Hey Howdy Hey
||[27 Jul 2004|08:10pm]
I'm not that great at introductions but my name's Lindsey, turning fifteen next month and I've been trying to seriously improve my poetry in the last few months. I already belong to several communities but am always looking for feedback (especially when it's honest.) Lately I've also been getting into zines, so if anybody here has one or have a friend who has one, shoot me an e-mail. I've been considering submitting some of my poems and political rants, but haven't yet found a starting point. Anyway, here a few poems, leeme know what ya guys think:
( Read more...Collapse )
||[27 Jul 2004|08:06pm]
This is behind an lj-cut for two reasons. One, it's long. No reason to clog up friends lists, right? Two, the second poem may not be suitable for all audiences, haha. It's slightly vulgar, but not bad at all... PG kinda stuff. (PG for language). Enjoy, and please critique. Just a note, these poems were written 6 months to a year apart.
( enjoy...Collapse )
|feed the artist
||[22 Jul 2004|01:22pm]
Poem, not very long. I'd love to get feedback on this.
What to think about: Does the title work? Are the images vivid enough to work as both something symbolic and abstract? Does the poem flow well enough (are there any words/breaks that in your mind interrupt it in a bad way)? Is there any particular image that just doesn't make sense, no matter how many times you read it?
Do you see the allegory I'm attempting to use? The allusion? Does it work?
Thanks, in advance.
( Night, Rise, Exiting the TheaterCollapse )
|My first post.
||[05 Jul 2004|10:48pm]
My names Ali. I'm 15.
No testament of the castigations that tainted her delicate body,
and left her soul to parch.
Her lips never evinced the secrets they were to engrossed in telling lies,
and with that they portrayed her imbibing death to her mouth. But they didn't know that she was already dead
A stony clout to the head and you're cascading onto the floor.
Although your eyes are sealed and you are transfixed in flawless caliginosity you still manage to perceive the pain that absconds your body,
and hastens away screaming all your secrets to death.
The pain abandons you and now you're only left with cicatrices,
and they are the only vestige that death has ever avenged you,
and at the same time they are the only sign that you are alive.
You are alive because you can feel the liquid steaming out of your nose.
You can feel the voices amplify and pound there demented little fists on the inside of your stomach exacting to escape,
and you can feel the heat of the flames while you burn in hell.
I would really love some constructive criticism.
|first post, yay!
||[04 Jul 2004|11:37am]
My apologies to the moderator for joining while he was in Spain. Before I get to my poem, some boring background info: Favorite Poet: ee cummings Writing Website: http://www.geocities.com/howling_with_wolves/ Other Interests: Music, Figure Skating, Photography, Politics And on to the poem! I'd really appreciate if, in addition to critiquing on the poem itself, you could write a blurb on what you think I meant. I don't think I'm getting my message across very effectively. Thanks!
TelevisionTurn on your eye.
of feigned mirth
beat against the plexiglass barrier.
Your eye blinks
Glee is gone
Replaced by desire.
SPEND :: to be sexy
CONSUME :: for country
DEVOUR :: for affluence
Boredom draws you away
exchange your vision.
Press Corps load their
(“GIs Charged in Death of Detainee”)
Direct hits to the bottom
(“Terrorist Group Vows New Attacks”)
of your eye.
explode your mind.
You start to shake
As you find yourself longing
for thoughtless hilarity
acquired by laughtracks.
Your world disappears
and is born again
as obvious jokes
and the last fragment of reason
“It’s alright, dear.
It’s your anesthetic.”
|Washes the grave with silvery tears...
||[27 Jun 2004|01:59pm]
Gods of their mighty fortress that they built,
Dreams are shattered when they kill.
Busied by their swords and majical words,
Cutting down souls in furious herds.
Merry-go-rounds take them to a faraway place,
Before they fire their gun do they even look at a fathers face?
Lost in a tranquil land of kings and theives,
They are forced to kill not using their eyes to see.
A mothers kiss readies them for a dream state,
Thrown is a single rose on the soldiers' grave.
Do not these little children know,
A soldier they may be in the malady of tomarrow?
Blinded by the visions of media,
A loved one screams in hopes their sadness will lift up.
Cursing god and Democracy,
Praying viewers watch the birthdates on the screen.
Silent vigils into the night,
While brave soldiers read letters from home and cry.
In the distance stands a "worthy cause,"
Was it worth what children never saw?
I do not intend to ruffle anyone's feathers, this is just from a liberal point of view. If one can respect that, I will respect you. Thanks, I hope u enjoyed it...
any comments would be appreciated,
||[26 Jun 2004|07:06pm]
Hello everybody, and welcome. I'll be your moderator this
|evening eternity. My name's Rich and I'm from central Jersey. It seems strangely fitting that I'd start a poetry community, because there's really not much to do here aside from write poetry. Well, that and run people off the roads, which is also a favorite passtime of mine.
Please note: I will be gone from June 28 through July 7. I expect there will be no problems, but if I come back to a madhouse somebody's gonna get a whipping. So please, just keep it neat and clean until then.