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Poetry

ElCorazonAma
Posts: 781
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10/3/2014 11:12:35 PM
Posted: 2 years ago
Your smile is like a brand new blooming rose. Your eyes are clear as the deep oceans peacefully flowing. Your laughter is like a refreshing breathe of air breathing in for the first time with innocence. Your intelligence is of the guarded angels always ready. Yet, while your frailness is dim it still is left with a light that glows as the sun and moon shine the day and night. And your embraced gazes are like sprinkles of the stars that will captivate eternally. Seeing you is like being remade alive. Hearing you speak is like the flow of the winds soft gentle whispers in my ears. Just knowing you at all is a hope of something unknown that could be of what is not expected. The love and care that appears from your heart is as if the depth of your soul could wrap anything inside and know its safe and guarded forever.
The verb is real but the adjective is only a hypothetical ideal. ~ Freedo
Truth_seeker
Posts: 1,811
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10/4/2014 11:57:13 AM
Posted: 2 years ago
At 10/3/2014 11:12:35 PM, ElCorazonAma wrote:
Your smile is like a brand new blooming rose. Your eyes are clear as the deep oceans peacefully flowing. Your laughter is like a refreshing breathe of air breathing in for the first time with innocence. Your intelligence is of the guarded angels always ready. Yet, while your frailness is dim it still is left with a light that glows as the sun and moon shine the day and night. And your embraced gazes are like sprinkles of the stars that will captivate eternally. Seeing you is like being remade alive. Hearing you speak is like the flow of the winds soft gentle whispers in my ears. Just knowing you at all is a hope of something unknown that could be of what is not expected. The love and care that appears from your heart is as if the depth of your soul could wrap anything inside and know its safe and guarded forever.

I'm speechless lol, wow...
vwv
Posts: 666
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10/16/2014 9:38:14 PM
Posted: 2 years ago
At 10/4/2014 11:57:13 AM, Truth_seeker wrote:
At 10/3/2014 11:12:35 PM, ElCorazonAma wrote:
Your smile is like a brand new blooming rose. Your eyes are clear as the deep oceans peacefully flowing. Your laughter is like a refreshing breathe of air breathing in for the first time with innocence. Your intelligence is of the guarded angels always ready. Yet, while your frailness is dim it still is left with a light that glows as the sun and moon shine the day and night. And your embraced gazes are like sprinkles of the stars that will captivate eternally. Seeing you is like being remade alive. Hearing you speak is like the flow of the winds soft gentle whispers in my ears. Just knowing you at all is a hope of something unknown that could be of what is not expected. The love and care that appears from your heart is as if the depth of your soul could wrap anything inside and know its safe and guarded forever.

I'm speechless lol, wow...

lmfao.... (I'm not lolling at the poem)
ElCorazonAma
Posts: 781
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10/28/2014 5:51:06 PM
Posted: 2 years ago
Bravery
Rushing winds, raging waters flow of stream!
Crashing over of unforgettable lost focus!
Flying through and through to compete.
Tumbling rumbling fumbling of loss.
Defeat and low clouds me of endurance.
Perseverance of gain not an option, a must!
Hope is left of success and goal for life!
Lose soul, heart, mind, spirit; defeat!
Failure of nothing more than hell bound.
Afraid, afraid of what, but to trust if at all.
One I must rely my strength and hope upon.
If I sleep, I sleep with hope of love from One.
The One whom shall never leave me be!
Criss-cross of untouched twists of flips.
Blended fruitily self-confidential beauty.
Hate is but of jealous, bittersweet confusion.
Teardrops as the dew of rain spills over.
Life is not a waste, if but given to waste.
Haste not that of self-gratifying Indulgence.
Flavorless hope is of shameful loss to life!
Breathe the freshness of everlasting!
~Marie~
The verb is real but the adjective is only a hypothetical ideal. ~ Freedo
ElCorazonAma
Posts: 781
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11/8/2014 9:03:07 PM
Posted: 2 years ago
Life is but a vapor of fast air.
What has captivated your time, oh, most fair?
The wild wind blow-dries your wet hair.
Honeybees glisten through the mid of day.
And all the way "buzz, buzz, buzz, is what they say.
I beg your pardon, if I boldly may?
Tis the season will be ohhh soo jolly!
Yet, the world falls beneath it's doomed folly!
Singers of carols walk with the breeze of holly!
What comes with but fears of sadness pain.
Wars of outrage increases as droplets of rain.
Fast and undone has life come of unwanted fame.
Peace love joy are nonexistent in this so it seems.
Wait, but wait, there's a twinkle from the star of gleams!
Hear oh people, listen to the voice of one that streams.
The verb is real but the adjective is only a hypothetical ideal. ~ Freedo
ESocialBookworm
Posts: 14,366
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11/24/2014 6:19:44 PM
Posted: 2 years ago
Marie

If you would but return to me,
I would shower you with tremendous glee,
Have you smiling day and night,
Never blinded by the light.
I'll hold your hand,
Through it all,
And walk on with you,
As the sky falls...
I'll love you forever,
My love, my friend,
If only, you could return,
So that I could have a happy end.
Solonkr~
I don't care about whether an ideology is "necessary" or not,
I care about how to solve problems,
which is what everyone else should also care about.

Ken~
In essence, the world is fucked up and you can either ignore it, become cynical or bitter about it.

Me~
"BAILEY + SOLON = SAILEY
MY SHIP SAILEY MUST SAIL"

SCREW THAT SHIZ #BANNIE = BAILEY & ANNIE

P.S. Shipped Sailey before it was cannon bitches.
Gentorev
Posts: 2,925
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12/8/2014 11:10:56 PM
Posted: 2 years ago
WHERE THE WATTLE TREES ARE BLOOMING.

He was camped out on some no name creek
He knew his time had come
He was happy just to die out there
Neath the Wattle tree and Gum.

But we couldn't let him die that way
Even though I think we knew
That the doctors couldn't help him
And there was nothing they could do.

So, we brought him here that he might die
In this nice clean sterile room
Where he couldn't smell the fragrance
Of the Wattle trees in bloom.

And as I passed his room this morning
With trembling voice he said to me
"Please take me back to the place I love
Where my spirit longs to be."

"You can have my gold chain and my watch
They're all I have to give.
Plus this little book, in which I've writ
All the things of worth I've did."

"Then take this worn old body
And let it die out there,
Where the Wattle trees are blooming
And their perfume fills the air.".........By gentorev.
headphonegut
Posts: 4,122
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12/10/2014 3:32:04 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
The past is something not unspoken
So. Yet here I am left, just broken.
Sitting down and soft spoken.
I hear them, 'choke 'em'.
crying to soldiers coming home to their dogs why do I torment myself with these videos?
Gentorev
Posts: 2,925
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12/10/2014 4:21:10 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
The mournful scream of a whistle that pierced the morning air
Awoke in me a memory, from the distant past somewhere
A memory I had tried to hide ...... in the darkness of my mind
Now that mournful whistle wakes again, the memory of my crime.

How many years have passed me by? How many nights have I sat and cried?
The tears I"ve shed in guilt"s despair, but forgiveness ..... I could find nowhere.
I see her face in all my dreams, and recoil each time I hear those screams
All ye who read this.... pity me....who must carry this guilt through eternity....By Gentorev
ElCorazonAma
Posts: 781
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12/11/2014 11:41:31 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
Very nice poetry guys! Thanks for posting!
The verb is real but the adjective is only a hypothetical ideal. ~ Freedo
ElCorazonAma
Posts: 781
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12/11/2014 11:47:03 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
Empowering lights of dawned morning.
Streams of rivers flow with whispers of harmony.
Singing voices of the winds accuracy astounds.
Peace, love and joy enriched from the depth of the trees.
The fruits of many colors guide the ways of justice.
Starry sky of blue crystals glazed with fair clouds.
Silky sun of the rich red, yellow orange delight.
Embrace the warmth and freshness of the dewness deligates.
The verb is real but the adjective is only a hypothetical ideal. ~ Freedo
kawaii_crazy
Posts: 580
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12/11/2014 11:47:13 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 10/28/2014 5:51:06 PM, ElCorazonAma wrote:
Bravery
Rushing winds, raging waters flow of stream!
Crashing over of unforgettable lost focus!
Flying through and through to compete.
Tumbling rumbling fumbling of loss.
Defeat and low clouds me of endurance.
Perseverance of gain not an option, a must!
Hope is left of success and goal for life!
Lose soul, heart, mind, spirit; defeat!
Failure of nothing more than hell bound.
Afraid, afraid of what, but to trust if at all.
One I must rely my strength and hope upon.
If I sleep, I sleep with hope of love from One.
The One whom shall never leave me be!
Criss-cross of untouched twists of flips.
Blended fruitily self-confidential beauty.
Hate is but of jealous, bittersweet confusion.
Teardrops as the dew of rain spills over.
Life is not a waste, if but given to waste.
Haste not that of self-gratifying Indulgence.
Flavorless hope is of shameful loss to life!
Breathe the freshness of everlasting!
~Marie~

Oh my God, Marie, I didn't know you were a poet! I absolutely adore poetry, although I don't think I write it very well. Unlike I, you are an exceptional poet.
"Being called weird is like being called Limited Edition. Meaning you're something people don't see that often." -Ashley Purdy

Please help raise money for a Christmas gift for airmax (although he is Jewish, as YYW pointed out). He is in desperate need of a new laptop, and he has done so much for this site; he certainly deserves one. :)
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ElCorazonAma
Posts: 781
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12/11/2014 11:48:54 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 12/11/2014 11:47:13 AM, kawaii_crazy wrote:
At 10/28/2014 5:51:06 PM, ElCorazonAma wrote:
Bravery
Rushing winds, raging waters flow of stream!
Crashing over of unforgettable lost focus!
Flying through and through to compete.
Tumbling rumbling fumbling of loss.
Defeat and low clouds me of endurance.
Perseverance of gain not an option, a must!
Hope is left of success and goal for life!
Lose soul, heart, mind, spirit; defeat!
Failure of nothing more than hell bound.
Afraid, afraid of what, but to trust if at all.
One I must rely my strength and hope upon.
If I sleep, I sleep with hope of love from One.
The One whom shall never leave me be!
Criss-cross of untouched twists of flips.
Blended fruitily self-confidential beauty.
Hate is but of jealous, bittersweet confusion.
Teardrops as the dew of rain spills over.
Life is not a waste, if but given to waste.
Haste not that of self-gratifying Indulgence.
Flavorless hope is of shameful loss to life!
Breathe the freshness of everlasting!
~Marie~

Oh my God, Marie, I didn't know you were a poet! I absolutely adore poetry, although I don't think I write it very well. Unlike I, you are an exceptional poet.

Lol I'm no poet just write to reveal my hidden self from within to what I'm feeling or admiring. :) but thank you.
The verb is real but the adjective is only a hypothetical ideal. ~ Freedo
headphonegut
Posts: 4,122
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12/12/2014 11:08:51 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 12/12/2014 6:43:14 PM, Beginner wrote:
Prosetry?

I. Was hoping. You, had posted. Poetry.
crying to soldiers coming home to their dogs why do I torment myself with these videos?
Gentorev
Posts: 2,925
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12/13/2014 3:36:27 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
I know I really should have
And I would have If I could have
But I didn't so I know that I'm to blame
We were standing by the river
When she begged me to forgive her
But I didn't, now I hang my head in shame.

Her tears were flowing freely
And though I loved her dearly
The thing she'd done had cut me to the core
So I ignored her tears and pleading
For inside, my heart was bleeding
I didn't realise-------that hers was bleeding more.

Twas below the dam they found her
Water weeds all wrapped around her
That held her---to the bottom of the deep
In my self righteous pride and honour
I had turned my back upon her
Now, eternal fields of sorrow must I reap. By Gentorev, who is the S-word and the Tongue.
phiLockeraptor
Posts: 233
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12/13/2014 11:18:28 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
The sound of my normal escape is far too tumultous
So I decide to retreat outdoors instead.
With one quick movement I step out and fling the door shut behind me
Replacing the ampetheatre of my home
With the gentle whisper of Humanities Mother.

The gravel crunches beneath my feet,
But soon the sound is indistinguishable from the falling of raindrops unto the ground;
Together, they sound like the friendly footsteps of a thousand different strangers.
Friendly, but strangers nonetheless.

The forest is in the distance, and I have nowhere else to go
So I walk towards the home of the twisted, unmoving brethren
My army of friendly strangers close at hand.

Before we can reach our destination, I am suddenly stopped.
In front of us stands a thin treeline, which should be followed by the artifical lake.
Instead, I am stricken by the sight of a grey mass that is indistingishable from the
Blanket of clouds in the sky.

It is if I am frozen, for I fear that the cliffface in front of me is the end of my reality,
That if I take a few steps further, I will become one with the void,
Nothing left of me but the existence of more friendly strangers.

This unsettling thought is almost enough to drive me back into the ampetheatre,
Away from the friendly strangers that pound the earth.
I am stricken by a sense another unwelcoming revelation, bubbling beneath the surface
Of my conscience awareness.

A slow rumbling off in the distance.
The wind whipping across my face.
Both stir up trouble as If to accomodate
My unsettled state of mind.

That's when it hits me. The division between the clouds and the lake is
Only an illusion,
For what are clouds, but giant cotton lakes in the sky?
The water cycle, then, teaches us one thing:
What goes up, must always come down.

I am startled out of my idleness by a loud smack directly above me
As the lakes in the sky seem to erupt, turning the thousands of footsteps
Into millions of friendly strangers, walking beside me wherever I go.

Shelter. I must move onward. This basic instinct commands me to move, and I faithfully do.
But nature has other plans.

The arrival of my strange friends (we've bonded) seems to have driven out almost all wildlife;
The flock of birds to their nests, the butterflies to their caves, and the deer to the forest,
Where I was trying to go, once.

In spite of this I hear a startling shriek which seems to betray either intense merriment,
Or ritual mourning.

I look up, down, left, and right
Trying to see through the inescapable veil
Created by the preponderance of strange friends.

I make out a sillouete of one bird calling to another.
They circle around, like military guards faithfully maintaining
The perimeter. What they are protecting, I cannot tell.

It really stinks. The stench of sulfur and manure rise to my nose,
Except it's the kind of stench that you can taste all the way to the
Back of your throat.

The calls increase in their urgency, and there is no doubt that they are in merriment now.
I gag.
Swoosh! The buzzard flies past me, undisturbed by the army surrounding me.
One after another after another dive down to feast
On the rotting flesh that threatens to disembowel me.

I decide it's time to go home, except I don't know where home is anymore.
The stench of death has robbed my sense of direction,
And all of my friends seem just as lost as me.
Where am I going? Even the treeline is gone now.

Perhaps my fear has been realized,
Perhaps I have stumbled too far, becoming one with the void.
I thought that nothing would at least be peaceful!
I realized just how wrong I was.

The air cries out as a white-hot rod of light comes through the
Lakes in the sky.
At least I can see now, I think.

I turn around, trying to find my way to my home
The gravel beneath my feet now turned to grass
My head scrapes on the wood of a tree, but I keep running.

Bark, bark, bark. Oh, how those dogs annoy me!
Annoyance. At least I know I' m close to home.

The rain lets up, and my friends leave me behind.
Now I notice what I was once blind to:
The flying insects all around me,
The swaying of my twisted brethren
Groaning under the pressure of a storm they were not ready for.

I'm near tears and I don't know why. It's dark outside, but
I still don't want to go in. Instead, I sit on a rotting tree stump, the fallen corpse of a
Son of Nature,
And begin thinking, as I observe the clouds forming in the distance.

The storm has only just begun.
"Philosophy is a great conversation that never ends"

Writing for this website ----> www.dailyfreethinker.com
Gentorev
Posts: 2,925
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12/14/2014 2:38:33 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
THE WOMAN
A wild and rugged timeless man, with weathered skin and calloused hands
With eyes that strained, in vain to scan, the far off dunes of shifting sands
Beyond the range in a land that"s strange, across dry and endless rolling plains
Where lakes of salt-white glistering grains, can blind or send a man insane
With leathered hands he shades his eyes, to shield them from the searing skies
Out there, among in the spinifex, he sees her body coil then flex
Like lightning strikes, she disappears, then he hears her cries of victory
A silhouette against the dune, she dances to an ancient tune
And sings her praise to land and sky, and thanks the one who had to die
Aloft she holds that bandicoot, in her dilly bag, young tender shoots
Tonight they feast, a banquet rare, neath blazing stars in the cold night air
This tragic tale of love is heard, in the songs of the ghost like desert birds
two devils rising from the sand that swirl across this sunburned land
Where they twist and twirl to merge as one, then die, beneath the desert sun
For they like devils, in their prime through yester-years now dimmed by time
Embraced a love so strong, so true, defying all their tribes taboos
No law on land, nor cloud above, could ever quench those fires of love
A love that led them far away, a love which burns still bright today
But the years, the sun, the wind and sand, have crippled her once godlike man
His milk white eyes, they"re all but blind, and she knows that soon will come the time
To crush the seeds that the deserts keep, and drink the cup of eternal sleep
Aah! What hiding games were played out here, with the tribal men who came with spears
In search for they who broke their law, but the desert ghosts they never saw
Like phantoms in the desert air, a rustle here, a shadow there"
Each time they came, they searched in vain, then never did they come again
But tonight while standing on the dune, she saw their camp by the rising moon
The trackers round that camp fire bright, would resume their search at break of light
Perhaps it"s fate that brings them here, after all these many, many years
For the spear that"s swift and takes life"s breath, is better than the lingering death
This time they stand. Why should they hide? For they know that once they both have died
Their spirits from the desert sands will rise and swirl across this land
To love and laugh, and dance and sing, the joyous song of the desert wind
Two devils, in the wind and sand, whose love defied the laws of man...........By Gentorev.
Gentorev
Posts: 2,925
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12/15/2014 12:19:06 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
THE LIE

Defiantly
He stood his ground
Surprisingly
He made no sound
His feet were free
His hands still bound
This now would be
The finale round

Standing there
With death so near
Amazingly
He showed no fear
He turned his head
As if to hear
The barking dogs
Still at his rear

Before him shone
The searchers lights
Torches flashing
Oh so bright
Exhausted
He had run all night
Now came the time
To stand and fight

Prepared for death
He heaved a sigh
Why had they all
Believed the lie
For mercy
He would never cry
His former friends
Must watch him die

That stranger
Smooth as he could be
Convinced the crowd
That it was he
The child lay there
For all to see
As they bound him
"neath the hanging tree

Warmed by the sun"s
First morning ray
Why did he have
To die this way
His friends
Like hungry lions at play
Would tear him
Limb from limb this day

He wonders
What they"ll tell his son
When they realize
What they have done
For D.N.A
Will prove them wrong
But by then the stranger
Will be gone...............................Bt Gentorev.
Gentorev
Posts: 2,925
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12/15/2014 3:21:49 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 12/12/2014 11:08:51 PM, headphonegut wrote:
At 12/12/2014 6:43:14 PM, Beginner wrote:
Prosetry?

I. Was hoping. You, had posted. Poetry.

"Lighght" is a poem by Aram Saroyan and is considered to be one of the worlds shortest poems. The entire poem is this "lighght."

Now then, if "Lighght" is classified as a free verse poem, why do you consider "Prosetry?" which was posted by Beginner, as not being a poem?
headphonegut
Posts: 4,122
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12/15/2014 4:10:40 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 12/15/2014 3:21:49 AM, Gentorev wrote:
At 12/12/2014 11:08:51 PM, headphonegut wrote:
At 12/12/2014 6:43:14 PM, Beginner wrote:
Prosetry?

I. Was hoping. You, had posted. Poetry.

"Lighght" is a poem by Aram Saroyan and is considered to be one of the worlds shortest poems. The entire poem is this "lighght."

Now then, if "Lighght" is classified as a free verse poem, why do you consider "Prosetry?" which was posted by Beginner, as not being a poem?

controversial* poem, since many don't believe it's poetry. And I don't consider it a poem either. More importantly I assume you consider it one since you engaged me in this line of questioning. Why do you consider it one?
crying to soldiers coming home to their dogs why do I torment myself with these videos?
Gentorev
Posts: 2,925
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12/15/2014 4:32:15 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 12/15/2014 4:10:40 AM, headphonegut wrote:
At 12/15/2014 3:21:49 AM, Gentorev wrote:
At 12/12/2014 11:08:51 PM, headphonegut wrote:
At 12/12/2014 6:43:14 PM, Beginner wrote:
Prosetry?

I. Was hoping. You, had posted. Poetry.

"Lighght" is a poem by Aram Saroyan and is considered to be one of the worlds shortest poems. The entire poem is this "lighght."

Now then, if "Lighght" is classified as a free verse poem, why do you consider "Prosetry?" which was posted by Beginner, as not being a poem?

controversial* poem, since many don't believe it's poetry. And I don't consider it a poem either. More importantly I assume you consider it one since you engaged me in this line of questioning. Why do you consider it one?

If you go to the topic, "Free verse is not poetry" which is in this Arts forum, you will read my response, which is as follows:

"If that is classified as Free Verse, then it is no wonder, that when the average Australian is asked to name their favourite poet, the greater majority, will answer, either Banjo Paterson or Henery Lawson. But when asked who is their favourite author of free verse, they remain silent."

I for one, do not classify free verse as poetry. Short stories? Yes, poetry? Never.
Gentorev
Posts: 2,925
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12/15/2014 4:40:08 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
She was the first of all creation
With her, God formed this world
He named the woman wisdom
And in her arms I now am furled
She sings her songs of mystery
With words that tease the mind
Suggestive of some ecstasy
Erotic yet Divine
She fiddles on my heart strings
And with her magic bow
Sweet tunes contrived in heaven
From my heart and mind now flow
The loquacious liquid from her lips
Expands my feeble mind
With each and every precious kiss
I reel as if from wine
And babble incoherent words
Unable to express
The wonders I envision
When our lips are tightly pressed............By Gentorev.
headphonegut
Posts: 4,122
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12/15/2014 4:48:41 AM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 12/15/2014 4:32:15 AM, Gentorev wrote:
At 12/15/2014 4:10:40 AM, headphonegut wrote:
At 12/15/2014 3:21:49 AM, Gentorev wrote:
At 12/12/2014 11:08:51 PM, headphonegut wrote:
At 12/12/2014 6:43:14 PM, Beginner wrote:
Prosetry?

I. Was hoping. You, had posted. Poetry.

"Lighght" is a poem by Aram Saroyan and is considered to be one of the worlds shortest poems. The entire poem is this "lighght."

Now then, if "Lighght" is classified as a free verse poem, why do you consider "Prosetry?" which was posted by Beginner, as not being a poem?

controversial* poem, since many don't believe it's poetry. And I don't consider it a poem either. More importantly I assume you consider it one since you engaged me in this line of questioning. Why do you consider it one?

If you go to the topic, "Free verse is not poetry" which is in this Arts forum, you will read my response, which is as follows:

"If that is classified as Free Verse, then it is no wonder, that when the average Australian is asked to name their favourite poet, the greater majority, will answer, either Banjo Paterson or Henery Lawson. But when asked who is their favourite author of free verse, they remain silent."

I for one, do not classify free verse as poetry. Short stories? Yes, poetry? Never.

Then I am very confused as to why we're having this discussion :/.
crying to soldiers coming home to their dogs why do I torment myself with these videos?
ElCorazonAma
Posts: 781
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12/15/2014 12:32:03 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 12/15/2014 4:40:08 AM, Gentorev wrote:
She was the first of all creation
With her, God formed this world
He named the woman wisdom
And in her arms I now am furled
She sings her songs of mystery
With words that tease the mind
Suggestive of some ecstasy
Erotic yet Divine
She fiddles on my heart strings
And with her magic bow
Sweet tunes contrived in heaven
From my heart and mind now flow
The loquacious liquid from her lips
Expands my feeble mind
With each and every precious kiss
I reel as if from wine
And babble incoherent words
Unable to express
The wonders I envision
When our lips are tightly pressed............By Gentorev.

Wow....
The verb is real but the adjective is only a hypothetical ideal. ~ Freedo
ElCorazonAma
Posts: 781
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12/15/2014 12:49:05 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
The Wind
Struck by the foul of the whispers...
Tormented with cries of unspoken words...
The fear of painful heartaches is unleashed...
The Wind blows away the sorrowed fierce...
Crawling upon the weathered dust that flows...
Violent winds mask the horizon's radiance...
No soul to filter upon, but wails linger on...
The Wind clarifies the pain of which is unseen...
Withered flames that scarce away the voices...
Peace, love, joy is nothing but of a delighted desire!
The verb is real but the adjective is only a hypothetical ideal. ~ Freedo
Gentorev
Posts: 2,925
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12/16/2014 9:03:24 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
To my Muslim mates who love Australia.

Many men have sought to tame her
Many men have played their hand
Many men have come to court her
From far and distant lands
But the men who"ll win her favour
And take her for their wife
Are the men who love Australia
And will give to her their life.

She"s the Queen of Southern Waters
And we"like ants and bees
Protect her sons and daughters
In this land that"s girt by seas
This wide brown land that we call home
Where the golden wattles blow
Is the land from which we"ll no more roam
As we watch our children grow

Now our children call her mother
This land we took to wife
In this world there"ll be no other
For who"we"ll offer up our life
We see into the future
A world --- free from wars and pain
Where our children and their children
Are all --- Australians.....................................Gentorev.
jodybirdy
Posts: 2,089
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12/17/2014 2:58:21 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 12/16/2014 9:03:24 PM, Gentorev wrote:
To my Muslim mates who love Australia.

Many men have sought to tame her
Many men have played their hand
Many men have come to court her
From far and distant lands
But the men who"ll win her favour
And take her for their wife
Are the men who love Australia
And will give to her their life.

She"s the Queen of Southern Waters
And we"like ants and bees
Protect her sons and daughters
In this land that"s girt by seas
This wide brown land that we call home
Where the golden wattles blow
Is the land from which we"ll no more roam
As we watch our children grow

Now our children call her mother
This land we took to wife
In this world there"ll be no other
For who"we"ll offer up our life
We see into the future
A world --- free from wars and pain
Where our children and their children
Are all --- Australians.....................................Gentorev.

You're a great poet.
A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral."
Gentorev
Posts: 2,925
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12/17/2014 9:28:50 PM
Posted: 1 year ago
At 12/17/2014 2:58:21 PM, jodybirdy wrote:
At 12/16/2014 9:03:24 PM, Gentorev wrote:
To my Muslim mates who love Australia.

Many men have sought to tame her
Many men have played their hand
Many men have come to court her
From far and distant lands
But the men who"ll win her favour
And take her for their wife
Are the men who love Australia
And will give to her their life.

She"s the Queen of Southern Waters
And we"like ants and bees
Protect her sons and daughters
In this land that"s girt by seas
This wide brown land that we call home
Where the golden wattles blow
Is the land from which we"ll no more roam
As we watch our children grow

Now our children call her mother
This land we took to wife
In this world there"ll be no other
For who"we"ll offer up our life
We see into the future
A world --- free from wars and pain
Where our children and their children
Are all --- Australians.....................................Gentorev.

You're a great poet.

Thanks mate. It's nice to get a bit of recognition now and then.