Today I actually put titles on my poems, because I hadn't before.
I don't have a favorite poet, mainly because I don't read very much poetry. If it's a book written in poetry, I like it, but otherwise, no.
Anyway.
You may critique/review it if you like. Or give feedback, etc. Actually, please critique it. And give feedback. Please, please, give me reasons for your opinions. I like in depth comments. (Who doesn't?)
Anyway(for the second time):
Here's the first.
Inspirat
âBe the change you want to see in the worldâ ~ Mahatma Ghandi
Life does not spring from death Freedom is not a force that breaks chains Love will not erupt from hate Power does not flow from weakness
You must make your life what it is be it happy or sad slow or fast light or burdened
You must have willpower to fight against what you do not want life does not happen, before your eyes while you watch and be lazy sitting on a couch eating Doritos
Yes, you may watch television and see what you think is life but you will never be exhilarated sitting down
You need to be the one standing at the edge of the cliff trying to keep your balance while someone is pushing you down You need to be the one rushing down the slope in makeshift skis trying to get away from your captors
No house will rise from the rubble if no one works to build it you will not eat if no food comes to your mouth
What you want will not happen if you do not make it so. (I was too lazy to finish the title)
Very good poem there! The imagery in it is fantastic!
But I tried to put in the two dots above the e's. So it didn't work.
AG has always had that problem; I'm guessing you posted the poem from word. Many of the symbols in word show up like what happened in the "noel" line, even simple things like quotation marks. People always say to post in notepad to avoid that problem. I've never tried it, but I suppose it works...
It's not about Word this time; Ag's coding refuses accents so it's impossible to write accurate French here. I've been part of the ''Accent liberation group'' for a while now, because I'd like to post my French writings, but up to now they still haven't done anything about that. I sure hope it'll change anytime soon, or perhaps with the release of Ag3.
In any case, implementing this little french bout made me smile. It's original and elegant.
It's not about Word this time; Ag's coding refuses accents so it's impossible to write accurate French here.
Yeah, I wrote this in my notebook originally, so I just copied the poem into the text box on the site. ___________________
This one's really weird, and I didn't think much about it. Whatever. I like it anyway. ___________________
Is the number 13 rally unlucky? Superstitions are So overrated, but maybe this poem will kill me. But how do you measure that? Emotionally, mentally, or physically? I don't think you can kill a ghost.
If I could write a book with One stroke of my pen, I would, because thoughts cannot be contained within ink. So, use the minimum. Try reading between the lines.
That was supposed to be really, not rally, above... oops.
I really need to work on looking at what I'm writing more.
Anyway.
Here's one from the FLP.
As I watch the sunset, As the light fades from the earth, So do I.
I become transparent, In thought and in body, And I observe everything.
I can see, many miles away, A child playing on the beach.
I can see, across an ocean, A worker typing in his office.
I am all knowing. But I do nothing. I do not know what it is like To feel the burn of muscles After running a mile. All I know Is what I watch. What I see. __________
Ok, I have the first part completely done. I think. Anyway, I'll post it here. ____________
There is barely a sound as I sprint through the back roads behind buildings. Gravel crunches under my shoes when they hit the ground. It's night, but there is still enough light for me to see my way easily through the dark. I'd be able to find my way if there was no light, anyway. I know my way through these streets well enough. I run with the intention of going home, but I'm not very focused on where I'm going. My feet take me in the direction of a different building: the warehouse. It's probably better that I'm here, anyway; going to my house would put my family in danger. I slow down when I reach my destination. Stepping across the smooth surface of concrete that has been laid down in front of the building, I quietly enter the warehouse. The place is well lit, which is surprising. I'd expected it to be dark, since it's nighttime now. Then I realize that of course it's lit; there's someone here. The main storeroom has trash everywhere. Kicking aside a can, I search for the lookouts. I know there are some here. I find them quickly. Nic and Troy. They talked to me when I got jumped in, and I don't like them very much. "Hey, Ashley," Troy says. My hand automatically forms a fist. I don't like being called by my given name. Ever since I moved to the U.S., it's been used only as an insult. I prefer to go by Ash. I don't say anything about it though. Instead, I greet them and ask if I could crash there. I've got to be ready for tomorrow. "Sure," Nic says. "Brothers help each other out."
Okay then here comes a bit of CC. I feel like I've stepped in the middle of something and that I missed the beginning. I think some explanations will be needed because right now Im confused. If you are intending to explain great, if not consider it.
I just read a lot of your poems, did you consider trying to rhyme things? Or trying out-line more alliteration? Or assonance? Or repetition? Not that I do much of those in my poems... I only rhyme stuff but ye thats my opinion for someone that wrote more poems then me, try doing a rhyme poem once, it may not be the most artistic kind of poem but it sure is fun to make those....
I was looking in the FLP thread and I found a really good one that I couldn't remember writing, but I did write it. I actually was able to rhyme well, which is surprising, but the meter was really off...
Here it is. ____________________
Is it real or is it fake? This floating feeling won't last forever. This one victory, or am I drowning in a lake? I think it's time to make one last endeavor, before the moon explodes.
I'm traveling in a barren land, and everything is gone. All the food I brought is canned, because, as far as I know, there is no refrigerator.
This illusion of an illusion is making everything true, which is bad, because I can't say I love you.
Have you seen this one? (below) It's the closest to a limerick as I've gotten. And the last one I posted about my computer is pretty funny as well. Personally I despise limericks, so I probably won't want to write one.
Aesop Wolf ('Aesop' is not my invention and I claim no ownership of the name.)
The wolf laughs with unrestrained glee At the sheep it knows it will slay The helpless lamb cries out a plea And the wolf begins to bay The moon howls back, a lonely tune The wolf settles into his snack But if only his stomach had enough room He'd be able to finish the task.
