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nikijay88
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#1
Old 08-02-2009, 06:10 AM

Lately I have had such a problem with doing my poetry.

I have written so far 45 poems :/ but well, that was since a year ago.

D: I don't even feel very pleased with them anymore since my husband says they aren't that well written and too much rhyme's.

Here is one, it's called

+Losing Control+

Tears of sorrow tainted the cheeks of the pale, frail girl.
Always crying a bit harder when no one saw.
Falling inside herself, cringing at the pain the world brings her.
Running her shaky hands up to her head past her flaws.

Pulling close to everything she has, because she knows...
she knows she has nothing, she knows, she is alone.
Loosing control of that outward appearance,
only left with red, puffy eyes, and tears.

Falling from her unholy romance, forebidden love indeed,
being chased from her once care and new release.
Gaining so much desired for, but nothing that was in need,
risking it all, her soul, her heart, knowing she would bleed.

Gripping into the wall, her nails scrapping against the tiles,
being pulled from her security, her mask creating denial.
Buckled to something hated and loathed, that of disgust,
looking at all that's left from desire and all left of lust.

Last edited by nikijay88; 08-02-2009 at 06:13 AM..

nikijay88
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#2
Old 08-02-2009, 06:39 AM

I write tons of poems like 45 in fact! :3

Here is a nice one, please send feedback if you think it's good or stinky ;)

+Where is my Love+

My eyes looks over the people without thought,
not even one can stop my mind, in a crowd no one spot.
I don't speak for days, committing my silence for gaze.
Seems that nothing is meant as the same, nothing left amazed.

In darkness, burning from the heat,
it's not hell, no flames, but it's just me.
No one near, no one even on the phone to my ear,
simplified life, little distain, granted delight, nothing remains.

My body sensitive without touch, my voice soft without love,
my hands lifeless without demand, my legs weak without stand.
What to do when there is nothing left, so little in me, my energy kept,
holding out for something false, no one, no love, no words, no calls.

I wish through the air, my small empty prayer,
hoping, wishing, thanking, for just someone to hear.
Supposedly beautiful and smart, but foolish and a tart,
as do most say behind my back, what lies the petty fools make they lack.

Left as something worthless, left far beyond mar,
not like my life can get more meaningless, this is still quite far.
Thanks to those that have troubled my life to it's small demise,
would it continue to matter for my existence in your eyes?

Little to say for the man, none of whom I quite understand,
all that have belittled me most, or set me apart.
Some neither well or good, some whom hold my heart.
To them I say, little by start, soon, you will tear me apart.

As I look around in this empty room, I search past all the pain,
and gaze straight into my gloom, I feel the sorrowful stain.
What little I am now, what petty girl I became,
one as I did endow, and now, as blamed.

Won't someone love this fair maiden, whom waits in her prison?
She only has hopes, and longing, and dreams, for one true prince to arisen.
Until the day her heart has wepted it last tears, until it's beating stops,
every single day she waits one more tear will drop.

To you the prince, yet to be found, to you who she will love and astound,
she waits for you, what little is left, with all her heart soon to rest.
She gazes through with careful eyes, hoping to see through lies,
hoping and praying that soon to be saved, that you will be the one to amaze.

Ferra
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#3
Old 08-02-2009, 07:02 AM

Since your thread was about poetry I moved it to the poetry subforum. It looks like you already had a thread, so I just merged them together. Let me know if you have any questions! :)

iTearsXXFall2344
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#4
Old 08-03-2009, 10:15 PM

So I can tell that your husband is a bit critical. But, I myself love your work. Very well written and very much inspirational, the rhyme gives it a bit of a taste when you say it. Maybe not too much, but I noticed the flare. I'd say that you are a rather great writer.

 


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