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message 2:
by
Bookcrazy ~ So what? I'm still a rock star~, Challenges + Games Mod (and super amazing poet)
(last edited Apr 23, 2017 06:33PM)
(new)
8- I like it a lot, very deep. The only thing I would say is that ending on the word "did" seems to detract from the final impact of the poem.
Butterfly
Egg-born, unfold.
Strive along the ground,
lift heavy eyes to the untouchable sky.
Consume the earth
and every green thing mouth can find for
food is everything, and death
is knocking much too close to the door
not to notice.
Wrap the warm night around you.
Hide curled up, undefended in furious slumber
as in the darkness everything begins to change, until
suddenly, you too
can sing the song of the skies.
Rise on new wings!
Oh, to be free, to fly for a moment
and die.
Oh, to give so much for that
one moment of life.
Butterfly
Egg-born, unfold.
Strive along the ground,
lift heavy eyes to the untouchable sky.
Consume the earth
and every green thing mouth can find for
food is everything, and death
is knocking much too close to the door
not to notice.
Wrap the warm night around you.
Hide curled up, undefended in furious slumber
as in the darkness everything begins to change, until
suddenly, you too
can sing the song of the skies.
Rise on new wings!
Oh, to be free, to fly for a moment
and die.
Oh, to give so much for that
one moment of life.

To Write
Pen slipping from my hands,
I cannot yet figure if this wet of
Deterrence stems from sweat or
Tears—for while the latter composes
My ink, the former begs I heal.
Is my struggle a matter of too
Much thought for words? Or have
I spoken too much to carry on?
message 4:
by
Bookcrazy ~ So what? I'm still a rock star~, Challenges + Games Mod (and super amazing poet)
(new)
6/10 I'd say you are constrained by your rhyme scheme and your syllable count is way off in the final line which makes it less emphasized. Also the third line doesn't make any sense.
Rainbow
In the rainbow there should be plenty of wiggle room
room for my fingers to move and grow
for the flower children of the convex wave to dance the bridge unto the night
I don't know why refracted light has its limits
why the colors must always go red orange yellow red orange yellow
and the reds think they're so much better
I don't know why we have to hide away until the storm comes
and sometimes an echo rainbow tags on from behind
I don't know why we never get to see the stars
there must be some mistake
someone must have got it wrong
in the rainbow there should be plenty of room, plenty of wiggle room for my fingers
for this
only this
I would give my pot of gold
Rainbow
In the rainbow there should be plenty of wiggle room
room for my fingers to move and grow
for the flower children of the convex wave to dance the bridge unto the night
I don't know why refracted light has its limits
why the colors must always go red orange yellow red orange yellow
and the reds think they're so much better
I don't know why we have to hide away until the storm comes
and sometimes an echo rainbow tags on from behind
I don't know why we never get to see the stars
there must be some mistake
someone must have got it wrong
in the rainbow there should be plenty of room, plenty of wiggle room for my fingers
for this
only this
I would give my pot of gold
message 5:
by
Bookcrazy ~ So what? I'm still a rock star~, Challenges + Games Mod (and super amazing poet)
(new)

I like the idea behind it (and I really like the title), but a suggestion I'd like to add is show rather than tell. You favor short poems, which is cool, and I think I've noticed a trend where you throw the meaning of your poem in at the end (correct me if I'm wrong) but I think it'd add more depth to ti if you showed how he is stupid rather than just telling the reader. Just a suggestion.
---------------------------------------------------------
Hell is cold vines creeping round your heart,
strangling the roots of love, like
weeds no pesticides can stamp out.
It is rose thorns,
sharp with good intentions and prying faces,
covered in ivy masks of concern and desire of gossip
It is drowning in frustration as
life boats drift away,
not seeing your body sinking
to the depths of the unknown
It is taking comfort in the darkness
that squeezes around your throat like
boa constrictors to their prey,
because you are—prey.
It is kissing the gates of heaven, lips burning, melting against the
image of your former self
It is a pile of ashes, from which nothing can be reborn
your heart

6/10
You seem to like similies, which is legit really cool. I would try to focus a little bit on sentence structure, however, try to make it flow a little better? Like, your lines are the right length, but sometimes your word choice doesn't always fit
---------------------------------------------------------
My sister once asked me
why there were pads without wings
I asked her, "Do you believe you can fly?
Then the only wings you'll need
are the ones in your heart"
She thought I was crazy
She wanted to laugh
She didn't know that I was serious
It's a lesson from my past
I wanted to tell her,
don't worry about learning how to fly
it will come on its own
all in due time
but remember, i'm telling you
there are wings in your heart
they will always be there
not even death can make them part
so when you're friends have all left you
through death or betrayal
when twilight is upon you
and it seems like the sun will never rise again
when you're drowning in the tides of your emotions
and want to end your life
believe that you can fly
I promise you'll be alright

I'm really feelin' the seasons vibe, and the message. The rhyming is cool too, I like it in this one.
LOL, sorry about that beginning in mind, that's actually what started that poem though, my sis asking me that question xD xD xD
-------------------------------------------------------
Meeting you was like
fresh air
in lungs that had never learned to breathe
terrifying
invigorating
you introduced me into a whole new world
full of sunflowers
still waters
green pastures
you taught my heart how to fly
right when it had almost decided to die
then you told me to trust you
and just let go
fall into your arms
that you'd take me to whole new worlds
I fell
But these were worse than the old
because you left me to fend for myself
lost, under unfamiliar skies
with a heart that no longer wants to die
6/10, I really love the concept, but there were a few grammatical mistakes and one or two of the metaphors didn't really make sense - from what I understand is the subject of the poem is something that stands out against everything else, and water doesn't stand out in an ocean and a soft breeze won't stand out in the wind, but I could totally be getting the wrong message here with it
-----
So this is an attempt at prose, which is technically still poetry
(the run-on sentences and the lowercase are intentional)
how can these fragile little hands with so many little bones that could fracture and shatter into millions of pieces create these things that break and remake my soul, that drown me in everything i've ever felt and then teach me how to breathe again? how can these soft little fingers with short unpolished nails write words that make me forget everything i've ever known and help me rethink it all for myself, how can they survive 14 years of all this writing and writing and still change me every time they do it? how can i know every marking on them - the little freckle on my left pointer finger, the little scar on the third knuckle of my right hand, the small birthmark at the base of my left thumb - and yet they still surprise me with the words pouring like a desperate waterfall out of my mind and off the tips of my delicate fingers to stain the page with all my unspoken thoughts - unspoken because my lips can't ever form the words so my hands to it for them?
-----
So this is an attempt at prose, which is technically still poetry
(the run-on sentences and the lowercase are intentional)
how can these fragile little hands with so many little bones that could fracture and shatter into millions of pieces create these things that break and remake my soul, that drown me in everything i've ever felt and then teach me how to breathe again? how can these soft little fingers with short unpolished nails write words that make me forget everything i've ever known and help me rethink it all for myself, how can they survive 14 years of all this writing and writing and still change me every time they do it? how can i know every marking on them - the little freckle on my left pointer finger, the little scar on the third knuckle of my right hand, the small birthmark at the base of my left thumb - and yet they still surprise me with the words pouring like a desperate waterfall out of my mind and off the tips of my delicate fingers to stain the page with all my unspoken thoughts - unspoken because my lips can't ever form the words so my hands to it for them?
Masi [That's my name] (S.B.QP) wrote: "7/10 It's confusing to get what the poem is all about with the run on sentences (even though that's intentional). But when I actually read it a couple of times I got the meaning and I loved the con..."
Thanks <3
also lol yeah the point of the run-on sentences were to make it more jumbled and confusing so I'm considering that a compliment xD
Thanks <3
also lol yeah the point of the run-on sentences were to make it more jumbled and confusing so I'm considering that a compliment xD

____
Your the water in an ocean
The soft breeze which makes the wind
The butterfly in the flower garden
The life in a pla..."
It's like, being depressed, somebody helps you through the worst of it, and then leaves you to fend for yourself, and now you have no idea what to do, because your old coping strategies don't work
message 12:
by
~Akweley♡Mazarae♥~★☆★oblivion★☆★~I CAN'T BREATHE~
(last edited Jun 05, 2017 03:56PM)
(new)

Walk Without an Umbrella
Standing underneath the bridge
Cars drive by and splash me.
Bei..."
9/10
I really like it. I only know a few people who can using rhyming successfully and not sound overwhelmingly like a children's poem. I think it's cute, and if a person wanted, they could look deeper. But I like it on surface level too
------------------------------------------
Note: this is an excerpt from a really bad poem I wrote about a locket a while back, but this part I felt as though was still worth salvaging
The Dangers of Love
There was once a woman
Who met a man
Perhaps they were in love
Perhaps they were not
But whatever drew them together
Also tore them apart
And Shards of their almost-might love
Pierced a little girl's heart
It went unnoticed
As the wound festered and grew
The very people who brought her life
Made her not want it too
She pulled the shard out
And put it in a locket
Kept it close to her heart
But knew that nothing could fill that empty socket
And prayed she would never forget
The Dangers of Love
message 13:
by
~Akweley♡Mazarae♥~★☆★oblivion★☆★~I CAN'T BREATHE~
(last edited Jun 05, 2017 04:14PM)
(new)

Thanks!
4/10, for an Ode, I feel as though it should be longer, and Odes typically praise something-this is more like a free verse of some sort that observes/analyzes a phenomenon
----------------------------------------------------------------
I stare down into the well
as if I stare long enough
I will somewhere find my soul
hidden deep deep down in this
dark, dank hole
I peer over the edge a little farther
wonder if maybe it's stuck to the walls
wondering if maybe I will fall
and if someone would find me laying
broken into a million pieces at the bottom
or will I disintegrate like mold
I wipe my hand against the side
and shards of regret like
smashed beer bottles on the side
of the red corvette
that I won't live long enough
to become rich enough to get
pierce my skin
and blood that was once blue
turns red decides to join the darkness
and my heart does too
as I say goodbye
to you
In this, someone posts a poem, and the next person rates it out of 10 and gives constructive feedback on it, then posts their own poem.
I guess I'll start
words can heal
did you know
that your words are like stitches
to the sad, lonely girl?
that with everything you wrote,
you made her realize
that she's not so alone?
i bet you didn't know
when you wrote those words
that you were piecing together a soul
because, my friend,
your words can heal,
and they did
(lowercase intended)