alix the dorkk
|
 Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2010 10:48 am
|
|
|
|
| Hi Everyone!! welcome to my little lounge.. here you may read, share, and write poems of your own and/or ones that You've heard before. Enjoy your stay!
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
alix the dorkk
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 10:16 am
|
|
|
|
| Afternoon Beach Walk\
A brisk walk along the waterside,
moiste sand running through toes
A cool breeze blowing constantly,
The sun creeping below the horizon,
making a beautiful marage of colors.
All is quiet
except for the few waves building up and crashing onto shore
Like demons attacking the land on which we live.
Piles, and piles wait to be picked through at the water line.
All fullfilling a short walk across the coast.
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
evercharmer
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 8:53 pm
|
|
|
|
|
| alix the dorkk wrote: |
Afternoon Beach Walk\
A brisk walk along the waterside,
moiste sand running through toes
A cool breeze blowing constantly,
The sun creeping below the horizon,
making a beautiful marage of colors.
All is quiet
except for the few waves building up and crashing onto shore
Like demons attacking the land on which we live.
Piles, and piles wait to be picked through at the water line.
All fullfilling a short walk across the coast. |
I hope it's okay that I comment on your poem instead of posting my own.
The majority of this poem gives me a feeling of peace, serenity.
Everything is quiet, colorful, things like that. But then you throw in the
imagery with demons. I get that you're trying to show that the peace is
being interrupted, but that line threw me. If you plan to go back and edit
this, I would suggest that you try to find calmer words to show the
interruption. A general example would be using din instead of clamor.
If you wish to keep the demon imagery, you would have to change the
poem to something slightly darker, and you would need to give us some
build up to the harsh imagery. Imply something is wrong from the
beginning, or ease us into the idea of something being wrong.
| |
|
|
|
_________________
Call me Jay. |
|
|
|
|
|
evercharmer
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 9:04 pm
|
|
|
|
| Thought I might as well post a poem, too. This is a work in progress, and
does not yet have a name. I did it as a school assignment sometime last
November, and just now got it back. I haven't been able to work on it
over that time because I lost a lot of my files a little after I wrote it, this
poem being one of them. It's about war, I think we did some thing where
we gave each other ideas and I got something along the lines of glorious
war.
Nobody wanted to go when the draft came,
didn't even have a clue of
that small notice posted to all picket-fenced houses.
"All eligible young men,"
and even the signs, the shouts, the riots
"Peace for all!"
were laughing, playing,
and blood spilled oceans, not rivers
when the bullets hit home ground,
pitter-patter, like a childhood game
of skipping stones, see how far they splash
or if we can catch them
in the fish-net intestines.
And the general with the debonair grimace
laughed at the game, he "played himself a sport,"
high scores all around, boys;
he didn't care how hard it was to fight around
protesters, fools on the fields
watch the visionaries fall and "learn their place,"
"must have been envisioning themselves as boats" for the ocean,
to slush away from the war, which finally gave them their peace;
is it glorious or fitting
to die for one's country?
It really could use some work, so critique wold be appreciated.
| |
|
|
|
_________________
Call me Jay. |
|
|
|
|
|
alix the dorkk
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 7:46 am
|
|
|
|
|
| Evercharmer wrote: |
Nobody wanted to go when the draft came,
didn't even have a clue of
that small notice posted to all picket-fenced houses.
"All eligible young men,"
and even the signs, the shouts, the riots
"Peace for all!"
were laughing, playing,
and blood spilled oceans, not rivers
when the bullets hit home ground,
pitter-patter, like a childhood game
of skipping stones, see how far they splash
or if we can catch them
in the fish-net intestines.
And the general with the debonair grimace
laughed at the game, he "played himself a sport,"
high scores all around, boys;
he didn't care how hard it was to fight around
protesters, fools on the fields
watch the visionaries fall and "learn their place,"
"must have been envisioning themselves as boats" for the ocean,
to slush away from the war, which finally gave them their peace;
is it glorious or fitting
to die for one's country? |
This is a very seriouse poem.. I love it! Every boy in my family is in the army/marines, so i know how seriouse this poem really can be to someone.. Are you part of the army? If so thank you!
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
evercharmer
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 11:33 pm
|
|
|
|
|
| alix the dorkk wrote: |
| This is a very seriouse poem.. I love it! Every boy in my family is in the army/marines, so i know how seriouse this poem really can be to someone.. Are you part of the army? If so thank you! |
Thank you. I'm not part of the army, I just feel for the troops, you know? I
mean, people sometimes talk about war like it's some great thing, even now.
And though I certainly understand going to fight for your country and all
that, it's still violence and death. It's depressing.
| |
|
|
|
_________________
Call me Jay. |
|
|
|
|
|
  |
|
|
|
|
|
