Hey thats goood
please critque the dreamer inside
Hey some of us new-bees have a lot of poems backed up, and need somewhere to put them. the internet seems like a better idea than overloading a hardrive with poems or wasting a couple trees worth of paper!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*grins to himself and rapidly nods his head*
not talking about forums, how many pieces do you guys have on your profiles?
I cant figure out how do deletre unwanted threads and psts. Someone plz help!
finally some one says it
ok..but here's the thing noone replies to your thread...i mean the only reason we put it up here before submission is for feedback yet i don't get any...i mean whats the point then???!!!
I'm honestly tired of seeing all Caps titles.. We realize you want people to read your poem but when its IKNHSIOBGOSNBOSIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that's annoying...
So is it normal that it takes weeks for Your works to be posted or not???. I submitted 24 pieces of poetry and lyrics and only one has been posted after about 3 or four weeks.
That is a true statement. I mean who would want multiple things that are the same.
well am new in here...so would u plz suggest me wht to write exactly in the create box??
o my god you guys have been with teenink for years these posts are fro years ago!!! ha
Im new to this website and to poetry for that matter. and i would just like an honest opinion about something i wrote. I hope u can understand it, but you guys are probably on a different intellectual level than others so you prolly will. here it is:
My eyes are open; my mind is shut; I am formless.
There is a face that is faceless,
Its memory drowned, suffocated.
My soul bleeds;
My body rots;
My roots are but ashes.
How can one see, what one does not know?
Ignorance is the flame that has brought my downfall.
I choke to mutter words of vindication, but words cannot save me now.
I reach out,
Its eyes meet with mine,
But still I cannot see.
A starving corpse spreads its filth within me,
A parasite, a virus.
The stench is trapped inside; I am shut.
The faster I run, the farther it gets.
The more I struggle, the smaller it becomes.
I am just out of reach, an unexplained obstruction.
The weight that I pull is too much to bear, but far too great to let go.
It drags me to the depths,
The Ocean Yore is my shackle.
It erodes my foundation.
Where do the stones lie?
A tree cannot stand without its roots.
Quiet desperation is my battle cry, my squall,
But my cries are heard only by the spoiled corpse within me,
Who, in turn, stretches its arms and tightens its grip.
I leer up from below the waves.
The sun slowly fades into obscurity,
Its golden hew festering into darkness.
A vile jeer ripples through my coffin,
One that was built from my own bark,
Planks cut from my flesh.
The charred sap, oozing from the scars, binds each together.
I am sealed, shut, locked, where is the key?
A hot and heavy breath strews across my sweat-covered face. I am not alone.
There is a sneer I cannot see,
But rather I feel it, a shallow comfort.
It engulfs me, for this is the most familiar of all.
“Who are you old friend?”
“Who are you brother?”
The words pass between his fangs like that of light through a prism.
A thought slithers up my throat, only to transfigure into words.
My lips curl, I grit my teeth, I pound my fist against this wretched tomb.
I howl the words in hubris. “I am God!”
…And so He wept yet another tear;
It falls softly upon this bed of vacuity.
*likes this comment*
Bad poems? Ahem, but no poems are bad. Maybe not to your taste, but not bad. Watch your opinions, please.
That is so true