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I LOVE POEMS

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Last post 16/09/2020

Posted by AlienGirlWorx

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      today i was looking at a picture of John and ....
      I look at a picture of you,
      And I cry,
      There your smile is so pure,
      But you hide,
      You hide your secret wounds,
      In your heart,
      Now you're gone, it hurts,
      In heaven you shine.

        the underground poem

        One day I met a men
        In the subway
        The clothes he was wearing then
        In a strange way
        So strange, from the XVI th century
        And very fun
        Maybe some suit for a party
        In the sun

        One day I heard a men
        From the other platform
        Screaming words of hate and then
        My heart was torn

        In the underground
        This is what I found
        Laugh, violence and crowd
        Artificial light all around.

          missguitar:

          love2travel:Awww Miss Guitar....that was sad the last line about the heart is a bleeding scar.... I think as we all get older, we do get those scars don't we... Better to have a scarred heart that a cold heart that can't feel and never scars... don't you think?

          I wrote this poem about a little girl I saw in Antigua Guatemala... she broke my heart and I cry each time I think of her.... talk about a scar on my heart. I hope I can figure out a way to get her some artificial hands...

          Antigua Guatemala

          Baby Sparrow Girl

          Vacationers with money plenty
          visit lands with not much of any
          Hungry children, beg to sell their wares
          To fatted tourists with very few cares

          Feelings blunted from TV
          True poverty they don't really see
          the plight of many, open your eyes
          this is real life, look see their strife

          Children holding up handwoven mats
          Please buy from me, you want to touch?
          Please buy from me, I don't ask much
          We need to buy food and clothes and such

          Standing back I see a girl, Where's her hands?
          The tourists tho, they look away, quickly now they walk away
          She hold up her arms to me, up in the air
          Like a sparrow baby girl, oh how unfair

          I looked in her eyes, I saw her despair
          How can these people just stand and stare
          Someone, help, please someone care
          I reached in my pocket and gave what was there

          Oh sparrow baby girl don't you cry
          For you will have money to eat tonight
          I saw the pain, so deep in your eyes
          I wish I could do more to make it all right

          Oh sparrow baby girl don't you cry
          I want to hold you, take away all your fright
          Why does everyone say that I should ignore you
          What kind of world is this, so cruel and so callous

          Oh sparrow baby girl, now I cry
          I see your eyes and the pain from inside
          I can't forget you, I don't want to try
          For I learned from you, you opened my eyes

          I won't forget you, you opened my eyes

          to all children in need, especially in Haiti

          wonderful poem love2travel
          indeed i think sometimes it's a kind of cure to write about sadness...

          Merci beaucoup Miss Guitar!
          I don't normally like to write about sadness, the girl with no hands was an exception. I feel that the words you commit to writing down on paper stay forever. I more likely would write down the sadness and then burn the paper.... I'm kind of funny in that way... I only like to speak of the positive. ops: My nickname by my Mom at the age of two was "Merry Sunshine" so I think I was born a happy person. So I can't really help it Sorry ops:

          Hey... I really love your poems! I especially like the one about the Metro... I am assuming you are in Paris....oui? You have that "je ne sais quoi" mystery about you.... You have an amazing command of the English language, being French. Did you grown up bi-lingual?

            Well, love2travel. I wrote a poem! Yay! It's only 3 stanzas (four lines each stanza) but I really like it...so, if you don't mind, I'll just a-posty it here for you!

            Involuntary

            Involutary motions,
            Brewing evil potions,
            Escapading in the dark of night,
            At any sound, ready for flight.

            Running through the trees.
            Hiding stolen keys,
            Escapading in the dark of night,
            Give me cause, and I will fight.

            Forcing open locked doors,
            Creeping over creaking floors,
            Escapading in the dark of night,
            Here I am, wrong or right.

              YAY Crossover!!! I love that one so much!!! I really do.... reminds me of the nights that I used to sneak out of my house to go see my boyfriend... It was so much fun

              Sounds like an adventure, whatever you are up to

                Thankles so muchly, love2travel!

                Hopefully I can get another written soon. :/ I've been so stressed out, rhyme schemes and flowing metering has been the last thing on my mind...

                D: I must force it back in there! -picks up hammer-

                I really like that poem, too....

                  So sorry to hear about your stress CG... Hope things get better soon... I have a bit of writer's block myself, very unusual for me, I just can't get a good visual going... I am worried that a friend has pneumonia... and my sink just started leaking Darn!

                  Sending you some good thoughts and I hope everything works out for you. I hope it's not one of your school projects.... Does music help you?

                    I just presented a huge school project (our decade project) and my best friend was in a HUGE skiing accident over the weekend. She dislocated her elbow, shattered her forearm and had to get 2 stitches in her forehead. D: It wasn't a happy thing! (Oh, but she totally kicked the tree's but. She so won.)

                    ANYWAYS, my writer's block has apparently died. Yay! 'Cos I've gots a new poem! -celebrates- AND it's super long. I'm so proud of myself.

                    Marked

                    Marked by the will to live,
                    hurt by the lack of those who give,
                    How does she live her life,
                    she, the lonely pauper's wife?

                    He cares not much for her,
                    unless he needs from the store,
                    Alone at home all day long,
                    singing a long forgotten song.

                    She cares for the children,
                    teacher them to force a grin,
                    Constant worry about tomorrow's meals,
                    how can he not care what she feels?

                    Marked by the will to livve,
                    hurt by the lack of those who give,
                    How does she live her life,
                    she, the lonely pauper's wife?

                    A rich family was once a prospect,
                    but he quickly became a reject,
                    For what she thought was true love,
                    now her faith has left him far above.

                    The small shanty leaks,
                    the cold floor creaks,
                    The dingy air is unclean,
                    the windows have a dusty sheen.

                    Marked by the will to live,
                    hurt by the lack of those who give,
                    How does she live her life,
                    she, the lonely pauper's wife?

                    Still he does nothing all day,
                    cares not what goes her way,
                    Just as long as he's fed,
                    and he can stumble off to bed.

                    Old friends come to call,
                    they see the holes in her wall,
                    Slowly they see her waste away,
                    and worry - will she last another day?

                    Marked by the will to live,
                    hurt by the lack of those who give,
                    How does she liver her life
                    she, the lonely pauper's wife?

                    Now she's gone, her children mourned,
                    the city weeps, her grave adorned,
                    Her spirit flys free, away from him,
                    Allowed to dream and follow every whim.

                    ---

                    It felt so good to write again...

                    Not a very happy, poem, though, is it?

                      Hurray!!! CG is way over her writer's block and what a great poem!! Taaa Daaa!!! Very very nice!!! I was thinking of Eleanor Rigby a bit there with that poem!!! It was sad that she died....

                      Hope your friend from school is OK Let us know OK!

                        She's doing...alright. Better than when she hit the tree...(duh...). I'll be sure to keep you all posted. (hehe...I have to post to keep you posted...wow, I think it may be time for me to go to sleep. Getting a bit ditzy...)

                          Drops in the Ocean
                          Stars in the sky
                          magnetic force, electricity
                          Just you and eye

                          Traveling at light speed
                          across the Universe
                          Whirling dervishes
                          Breathing Life Force

                          Grab hold of my hand
                          fly me to the Moon
                          the string is now cut
                          A far off balloon

                          Floating down gently
                          landscapes below
                          The answers lie waiting
                          In the flowered meadow

                            love2travel:Awww Miss Guitar....that was sad the last line about the heart is a bleeding scar.... I think as we all get older, we do get those scars don't we... Better to have a scarred heart that a cold heart that can't feel and never scars... don't you think?

                            I wrote this poem about a little girl I saw in Antigua Guatemala... she broke my heart and I cry each time I think of her.... talk about a scar on my heart. I hope I can figure out a way to get her some artificial hands...

                            Antigua Guatemala

                            Baby Sparrow Girl

                            Vacationers with money plenty
                            visit lands with not much of any
                            Hungry children, beg to sell their wares
                            To fatted tourists with very few cares

                            Feelings blunted from TV
                            True poverty they don't really see
                            the plight of many, open your eyes
                            this is real life, look see their strife

                            Children holding up handwoven mats
                            Please buy from me, you want to touch?
                            Please buy from me, I don't ask much
                            We need to buy food and clothes and such

                            Standing back I see a girl, Where's her hands?
                            The tourists tho, they look away, quickly now they walk away
                            She hold up her arms to me, up in the air
                            Like a sparrow baby girl, oh how unfair

                            I looked in her eyes, I saw her despair
                            How can these people just stand and stare
                            Someone, help, please someone care
                            I reached in my pocket and gave what was there

                            Oh sparrow baby girl don't you cry
                            For you will have money to eat tonight
                            I saw the pain, so deep in your eyes
                            I wish I could do more to make it all right

                            Oh sparrow baby girl don't you cry
                            I want to hold you, take away all your fright
                            Why does everyone say that I should ignore you
                            What kind of world is this, so cruel and so callous

                            Oh sparrow baby girl, now I cry
                            I see your eyes and the pain from inside
                            I can't forget you, I don't want to try
                            For I learned from you, you opened my eyes

                            I won't forget you, you opened my eyes

                            to all children in need, especially in Haiti

                            Oh, love2travel... I cried when I read this, it was just so moving!!


                              Thanks so much Ninja... It is so unbelievably sad.... I wrote to someone who was a friend of a friend who was there, I'm trying to get some more info. Not sure where to get help. I was so shocked I forgot to take her picture...

                              The thing that makes me the maddest is that every single person(except my sister..she knew what I would do) said to forget her, or I shouldn't have given her my money.... like she was just some erasable animal on TV.....horrible GRRRRR

                                Drops in the Ocean
                                Stars in the sky
                                magnetic force, electricity
                                Just you and eye

                                Traveling at light speed
                                across the Universe
                                Whirling dervishes
                                Breathing Life Force

                                Grab hold of my hand
                                fly me to the Moon
                                the string is now cut
                                A far off balloon

                                Floating down gently
                                landscapes below
                                The answers lie waiting
                                In the flowered meadow

                                I know I've said this time and time again, but your writing reminds me so much of my own! I love meeting people with writing styles like my own...makes me feel special...

                                ANYWAYS, I'm rather fond of this poem. Very...poetic.

                                  love2travel:

                                  missguitar:
                                  love2travel:Awww Miss Guitar....that was sad the last line about the heart is a bleeding scar.... I think as we all get older, we do get those scars don't we... Better to have a scarred heart that a cold heart that can't feel and never scars... don't you think?

                                  I wrote this poem about a little girl I saw in Antigua Guatemala... she broke my heart and I cry each time I think of her.... talk about a scar on my heart. I hope I can figure out a way to get her some artificial hands...

                                  Antigua Guatemala

                                  Baby Sparrow Girl

                                  Vacationers with money plenty
                                  visit lands with not much of any
                                  Hungry children, beg to sell their wares
                                  To fatted tourists with very few cares

                                  Feelings blunted from TV
                                  True poverty they don't really see
                                  the plight of many, open your eyes
                                  this is real life, look see their strife

                                  Children holding up handwoven mats
                                  Please buy from me, you want to touch?
                                  Please buy from me, I don't ask much
                                  We need to buy food and clothes and such

                                  Standing back I see a girl, Where's her hands?
                                  The tourists tho, they look away, quickly now they walk away
                                  She hold up her arms to me, up in the air
                                  Like a sparrow baby girl, oh how unfair

                                  I looked in her eyes, I saw her despair
                                  How can these people just stand and stare
                                  Someone, help, please someone care
                                  I reached in my pocket and gave what was there

                                  Oh sparrow baby girl don't you cry
                                  For you will have money to eat tonight
                                  I saw the pain, so deep in your eyes
                                  I wish I could do more to make it all right

                                  Oh sparrow baby girl don't you cry
                                  I want to hold you, take away all your fright
                                  Why does everyone say that I should ignore you
                                  What kind of world is this, so cruel and so callous

                                  Oh sparrow baby girl, now I cry
                                  I see your eyes and the pain from inside
                                  I can't forget you, I don't want to try
                                  For I learned from you, you opened my eyes

                                  I won't forget you, you opened my eyes

                                  to all children in need, especially in Haiti

                                  wonderful poem love2travel
                                  indeed i think sometimes it's a kind of cure to write about sadness...

                                  Merci beaucoup Miss Guitar!
                                  I don't normally like to write about sadness, the girl with no hands was an exception. I feel that the words you commit to writing down on paper stay forever. I more likely would write down the sadness and then burn the paper.... I'm kind of funny in that way... I only like to speak of the positive. ops: My nickname by my Mom at the age of two was "Merry Sunshine" so I think I was born a happy person. So I can't really help it Sorry ops:

                                  Hey... I really love your poems! I especially like the one about the Metro... I am assuming you are in Paris....oui? You have that "je ne sais quoi" mystery about you.... You have an amazing command of the English language, being French. Did you grown up bi-lingual?

                                  thanks love2travel !
                                  well i'm not bi-lingual at all and u can see it in my last poem : i made a mistake when i wrote "men" instead of "man"
                                  but i love to write in english (not so easy for me to speak in english )
                                  to answer your question about where i live, i'm near Paris.

                                    Crossover Genius:

                                    I know I've said this time and time again, but your writing reminds me so much of my own! I love meeting people with writing styles like my own...makes me feel special...

                                    ANYWAYS, I'm rather fond of this poem. Very...poetic.

                                    Hi CG! How is your friend that whomped that tree while skiing? Hope she's doing much better!!

                                    Thank you for your compliment.... I do think we both have some very similar writing styles! Although you also seem to know the technical terms for it, which I find interesting also. There are several of yours that I wanted to post a matching poem I had written, but they are locked inside my broken laptop. I think I am learning from you, so thanks for that too! I really like some of your long ones especially!!! You get a whole theme going.

                                    Bonjour Miss Guitar!
                                    So you live near Paris!! J'aime Paris Do you go to the Louvre many times? Such a large beautiful museum. I wish I could spend one week just going to the Louvre every day! Also love the Muse'e d'Orsay! Have been to the normal tourist sites such as la Tour Eiffel, Notre Dame, Sacre' Coeur, Montmartre and the Le Bateau Mouche on the Seine. You are so lucky to live there! France is so beautiful... I wish I could spend 6 months there just exploring. I wish I could speak French better... Your English is wonderful!

                                      ops:

                                      Thanks, Love2Travel.

                                      I really like your poems too. They've got a sort of plain complexity...where it says everything without ever actually saying something....kind of.....sorta....maybe....a little?

                                      Well, I managed to confuse myself...

                                      I learn a lot from you too! And I enjoy reading all of your poetry, too.

                                      And it makes myself feel a lot better to post my own writings, knowing that I'm not alone with my poetry.

                                        Hi CG

                                        That's the beauty of poetry isn't it? It means different things to those who read it, or means nothing....except to the person who wrote it! Or sometimes the person who wrote it is not even sure what it means! It could be something they read in a catalog

                                        I just love words and lyrics, don't you?

                                        Hey, how's your friend who got hurt?

                                          love2travel:
                                          Thanks so much Ninja... It is so unbelievably sad.... I wrote to someone who was a friend of a friend who was there, I'm trying to get some more info. Not sure where to get help. I was so shocked I forgot to take her picture...

                                          The thing that makes me the maddest is that every single person(except my sister..she knew what I would do) said to forget her, or I shouldn't have given her my money.... like she was just some erasable animal on TV.....horrible GRRRRR

                                          A couple of people I know are like that. When were on vacation, we saw a couple of little children selling little trinkets. My dad whispered, "Don't look at her, she's going to run off with your bag." Seriously, that kid looked so innocent, she wouldn't hurt a fly. Some people treat those living on the streets like they're going to do...bad things to you, even though that may be true for some, but that's like a stereotype.

                                            She's doing better. Whenever I see her, she's fine enough to keep up our slightly psychotic inside jokes, so I know she's as alright in the head as she ever was, which is a lot more together than I!

                                            She's having surgery on Thursday for her dislocated elbow. I guess a bunch of tendons tore and some broke off parts of her bone with it. :/ It really doesn't sound good at all.

                                            She's hired me as her lawyer to press charges against the tree...

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