I LOVE POEMS
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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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
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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... I must force it back in there! -picks up hammer- I really like that poem, too....
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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?
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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. 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?
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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!
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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...)
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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
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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!!
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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
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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.
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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.
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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!
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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.
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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?
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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.
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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...