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Viewing 15 posts - 16 through 30 (of 32 total)
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    @theresa-play Are you alia from KP??

    Mariposa Aristeo

    @scribbles Yes! I like that new line! 🙂💜 Except I’m not sure how I like “sputter”; I think “crackle” could work well though.


    I’m not sure about this poem… I don’t do as much poetry as I used to and this came while waiting in my chiropractor’s office… just had a sudden image in my head and typed it out on my phone while sitting in the office!  Any help would be appreciated!

    Have you seen a flamingo dance

    in the darkness of a blood red moon

    Have you seen a starlight fall

    down beneath the great unknown


    Have you ever seen an eagle soar

    by the light of a thousand suns

    Have you ever seen the grass plain die

    crushed by a hundred feet final run


    Have you seen the nightingale fall

    in the midst of the angry sea

    Have you seen the cannonball fly

    into the empty free


    I can tell you it’s living

    I can tell you its here

    I can tell you the cannon wins

    When the sun falls down

    When the stars are swallowed underground

    When the bird fails to dance.


    When the eagle fails to see the crown

    When the cannonball flies

    I can tell you it’s the same

    When your black or white

    The flamingo never dances in the moon

    The eagle never soars on high

    Mankind has stolen its life


    Have you seen the cannonball

    Take the life of the wicked

    Have you seen Normandy

    Or seen Arlington Cemetery

    The cannon won and the flamingo dances on

    In the moon colored by wicked blood

    The flamingo dances on

    Theresa Play

    @ariel-ashira, yes, yes I am

    "My prayer is that when I die, all of hell rejoices that I am out of the fight."
    - C. S. Lewis


    @theresa-play Yes, I recognized your beautiful poem! *tacklehugs*

    Theresa Play

    @ariel-ashira *raises arms to both protect self and hug back*  glad I’m memorable 🙂


    "My prayer is that when I die, all of hell rejoices that I am out of the fight."
    - C. S. Lewis


    Poems can be fun but a lot of work sometimes! Here is one of my very simple and short ones I wrote last fall:

    A book and a breeze,

    A shower of leaves,

    Red, orange, and yellow,

    Sprinkling from trees.


    Linyang Zhang

    @evelyn Ooh, I like that one!

    Every thing seems so warm and fluffy here…*disappears back into closet of angst and tears*

    "I set a melody upon the scenery I saw outside my window;
    It's beginning in my spacy world."
    - TK


    @devastate-lasting Thanks! 🙂


    Here’s a poem I was inspired to write by my “Art and Culture” class. It compares and contrasts the different art forms with writing. Any critique would be appreciated! 🙂

    Empty pages stretch before, a canvas yet untainted.
    Verbiage heaped on color pallets, waiting to be painted.
    Sculptor’s chisel, writer’s red pen, cannot tell apart:
    Mental theatre, stories play out, acts about to start.

    Blueprint or an outline? Structured just the same.
    Words dancing across paper to tunes as yet unnamed.
    The rhythm of a heartbeat, the symphony of soul.
    Composer or an author? – Both are in control.

    I am not a painter, or a sculptor, or actress.
    Nor am I an architect, musician, I confess.
    Instead, I am a Wordsmith, holding worlds that I have made.
    Crafting stories, memories, whose magic never fades.

    Writer of stories, weaver of worlds.

    Sarah Inkdragon


    I love that poem! It’s amazing.

    "A hard heart is no infallible protection against a soft head."

    - C. S. Lewis


    Wow! That poem is amazing! @writerpiper


    Thank you both!

    Writer of stories, weaver of worlds.

    Rachel Rogers

    @mariposa I could have sworn I already answered this. Mental replies are my new message format, I guess. 😛 I chose the word “sputter” because it sounds more like a faltering struggle than “crackle” to me? But I’m always open to word changes, so I’ll play around with that suggestion and see if anything else jumps out as me as an alternative. 🙂


    Also, @everybody-else, great poems!

    Ambiverted INFP. Scribbles all the words. Names the plant friends. Secretly Edna the Piguirrel.


    A poem..


    I sat still starring at the blank page in front of me.

    A pen in my hand.

    Anticipating to write something Wonderful.

    Something Inspiring.

    Something Beautiful.

    But what?

    I have so much in my mind but outwardly so little.

    But I want to writer, I need to write.

    I gripped the pen harder and put it near the paper.

    I waited.

    And waited.

    And waited for something to come to my mind.

    Something Wonderful.

    Something Inspiring.

    Something Beautiful.



    But all the filled my mind was Fear.

    Fear that it wouldn’t be Wonderful.

    Fear that it wouldn’t be Inspiring.

    Fear that it wouldn’t be Beautiful.

    Fear that even if I poured my time and love into it that it wouldn’t be anything.

    Anything good, Anything worthwhile.

    Anything Wonderful.

    Anything Inspiring.

    Anything Beautiful.

    The only good of it to be crumpled up and thrown away.

    The work the pen and paper helped me with ruined.

    With my hands shaking I closed the pen and sat it down.

    The blank piece of paper blurring as my eyes filled with tears.

    I couldn’t do it.

    I had failed.

    Nothing Wonderful.

    Nothing Inspiring.

    Nothing Beautiful.

    I got up and walked away.

    An empty feeling sank into my stomach.

    I failed being a writer.


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