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honest,straightforward&unbiased poetry critiquing

at daybreak i wake tangled in your words. in the black bird's tongue i hold the lessons of my youth
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[05 Aug 2008|08:35pm]

[ mood | anxious ]

hey there! i'm new to this whole writing and whatnot idea, but i want to learn, so any feedback at all is really appreciated. this is one of my first poems.

i wish

i have a wish list
as long as my arm:
i wish everyone was happy,
and nobody would come to harm.

i wish had the courage,
i wish i was more brave.
rather than trying to 
fall into in early grave.

i wish i had someone
who understands me,
not assuming i'm joking
demanding i smile happily.

i wish i could make sense
of this crazy world around me
and explain this deep darkness
that lives inside me.

but most of all i wish
and this is a big one
that all these wishes come true
when this poem is done.   

say . youre . sorry

Feedback Would be lovely! Be tough on me. :] [04 Aug 2008|11:02pm]

I am sitting on a bench, facing the sun and the Arizona highway. My eyes are open. I dont' remember why I am here. I just know that my sunglasses bite into the side of my head- right under my temples- you know the spot. I just know I am sitting here, staring into the sun, and the sides of my head are hurting something awful. 

I focus on tracing the skyline of the city infront of me with my dirty pinky finger.

It’s hell. I swear to god. I fucking swear to god-It’s hell.

There are two buildings. The light that  refracts through my glasses makes the space in between them look like some sort of magnetic jungle. But with more drugs and more pain and more tears and more vulgar music ripping at my eardrums.

I passed by a kid this morning. He was sitting  dying on the street of that city. And his father was there. He was looking over the child's should-have-been dead shoulder, screaming so hard blood oozed between his porcelain teeth.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and pulled my feet forward.

This wasn’t a city. This was hell. And if this was hell, nobody ought to've blamed me for just walking by. Nobody ever blamed me for just walking by, before...

Was that why I was here?

Is that why he was here?

I am sitting here on my bench. Covering up a long outdated picture of Lucas Arnold, Real Estate Agent. I'd had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Arnold once. Not that he had been in a particularly good mood, and not that I'd spoken a word.

But let me tell you- He didn't look anything like his picture. 

(But don't blame him. It's all in good business.)

say . youre . sorry

her eyes melt me [14 May 2006|03:18pm]

[ mood | enamored ]

Hopefully it is obvious the subject is a woman's eyes ... This isn't really close to being done, but I would like some advice/insight. Thanks.

Read more...Collapse )

any all constructive criticism or advice welcome, thank you

say . youre . sorry

[15 Aug 2005|02:28pm]

+A Poetry Rating Community.

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[09 Jul 2005|07:36pm]
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[29 Jun 2005|04:22pm]
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New Member [20 Oct 2004|07:35pm]

[ mood | new ]

Hi, I'm Mandie. I'm no one special really. Just another teen-ager trying to find my voice. I live in the suburbs of Philadelphia where I write my heart out. Livejournal is my poetry journal, though I occasionally have friends only posts for polls, surveys, and things of that nature. You know, those "post a memory of me" kinda things that have been floating around.

The following are three poems I've written recently. One that I feel is fairly good and represents me well, one that I need some work on, and one just for fun. Leave any criticism you like, I welcome it. Hence the reason for joining this community.

read on...Collapse )

say . youre . sorry

[03 Jul 2004|03:54am]

i know the grammars bad and i know the charcters aren't fully formed yet.. i just wrote this and plan to go back and do that later... also this is just the start of a new project i plan to create and i just wanted feedback on it seeing as how i haven't wrote anything for months. So if you're willing to read it and offer your thoughts then thanks. obviously this is just the beginning of it..

"closed to the public " working title

I lay in my bed... which has become a soft cushion far away from the defined word of "bed". Or in other words, i miss the feeling of being genuinely tired. My eyes are sore from lack of sleep and i'm just, here. The blankets are half
thrown off me... half on, all tangled up between my legs. My hands are gracefully & symmetrically folded on my stomach. And my eyes are on the cieling... zeroing in on sleep, or so i hope and try. I start to sweat and turn over to my left. The wall is merely four feet away and against it is a television that hasn't been on in ages. And even if it had, all that would be on it would be static.
Picture frames liter the room, with pictures removed. Some gracefully and others... the broken or unbroken glass only symbolizes my mood at the time that i removed them. Letting out a deep sigh i swing back and lay on my right side, now shivvering with cold and now gripping the blanket i had so carelessly thrown off me earlier. I kick it off my feet and shut off the fan at the end of my bed using my toes. I was too tired to reach with my arms. Also at the end of my bed is a window that i can barely see out through the squint of my eyes that i've created by settling my head in a nest of blankets and sheets. I stop the loud mix of tedious breathing and sighing and listen to the wind outside... it's probably one of those nice days outside.
The days which, when you were younger, would have you playing two-square or basketball with the other boys of the neighborhood. The girls would be near-by in their polka dot dresses playing hopscotch, twirling their jumpropes, their dollies along side them and they would be singing.... just singing with pride in their voice... always singing the same songs...

"Miss mary mack mack mack, all dressed in black black black," they would continue for hours, only a drive-way away. Oh how we would tire of them and their stupid songs.

"with silver buttons buttons buttons, all down her back back back," and they trailed off...

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say . youre . sorry

[11 Jun 2004|09:56pm]

We really are simple objects that like to be used. We need eachother as much as we don't want to admit it. We're like the stickiness on the envelope that needs to be licked no matter how bad it tastes.
Everything is back to normal now but i'm still not the same. I've choosen to do better for myself now -- but it still somehow feels worse at the end of the day.

I guess it's simply said that it's easy to admire from a distance but you're always out of reach -- from a distance. So here i am looking in your eyes from more than a few earthly miles away. I see you in everything i see, wanting to let go -- but not realizing that's meaning letting go of everything. Starting new.. washing it all of you. I'm going to have to learn how to be me again. How to be me without you is a totally new me again. The problem before was that i didn't want to but now i guess i just have to give in.

Have you ever met a person that's not a person inside at all? Just An empty warehouse with some still lit circuits, running around like cells. I told you without words... friend till the end, if you die -- i'd die too. How was i suposed to know it was the one thing i would ever mean? I'm sorry, i'm still here without you.

When i've been a parasite buried in you, and you're not around how am i suposed to last?
I'm tired of living my life for you.
We really are simple objects that like to be used.
say . youre . sorry

[24 Apr 2004|05:03am]


hey. i've been writing poetry since i was a kid (i'm 20 now) so its been the way i've always expressed myself. my LJ has become my new  journal (because i usually find myself in front of the computer). i don't think i follow any traditional style so my poetry has been referred to as confusing. they are all really short and most of them don't have titles... im not good with titles. yeah i'm pretty emotional, but i like feedback. the last poem is the most recent, the first one the oldest. read on...Collapse )

say . youre . sorry1

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