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  1. #1
    Veteran Poster MiaIsabella1985's Avatar
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    Default POETRY With Mia Isabella - Share Yours

    I love to write poetry and have been doing so for years and I would like to share some of it with you and hope you have some to share.


    SINCERE JOY


    The way that your voice pulsates when you speak to me shows that your sincere

    I've never experienced desired affection so I shield myself and heart with fear

    The what ifs enter my mind and my thoughts begin to spin with the idea that maybe, just maybe this attention could evolve into a delicous indulgent sin

    How can you entrap my spirit and penetrate my walls with the way that you speak? Only to arouse my emotions to their very highest peak

    And what if your conversation isnt mine alone? And you spend your days with someone else while I sit at home alone

    But if I only knew your heart and if you really knew mine, there would be no one else to whom you would talk to or even want to spend time

    My love and loyalty would ignite your heart to implode, and from this fused connection your passion for me would explode

    So please dont play with my heart as if it were a toy, instead nurture it with honesty and bring from me sincere joy
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  2. #2
    Eurotrash! Platinum Poster Jericho's Avatar
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    I like poetry, it always comes from the heart (though, it has to be said, there's a fine line between poetry and self-maudlin pity).
    Didn't 'speedius' have a poetry thread going at one time?
    I like your poem, but, if you don't mind, i'd make some edits:

    SINCERE JOY


    The way that your voice pulsates when you speak to me shows that your sincere
    The way your voice pulsates when you speak to me shows that you're sincere

    I've never experienced desired affection so I shield myself and heart with fear
    I've never experienced desired affection, so I shield myself, my heart, with fear

    The what ifs enter my mind and my thoughts begin to spin with the idea that maybe, just maybe this attention could evolve into a delicous indulgent sin
    The what ifs enter my mind and my thoughts begin to spin, with the idea that maybe, just maybe, this attention could evolve into delicous, indulgent, sin

    How can you entrap my spirit and penetrate my walls with the way that you speak? Only to arouse my emotions to their very highest peak
    How can you entrap my spirit and penetrate my walls with the way that you speak, only to arouse my emotions to their very highest peak?

    And what if your conversation isnt mine alone? And you spend your days with someone else while I sit at home alone
    And what if your conversation isnt mine alone? And you spend your days with someone else while I sit alone

    But if I only knew your heart and if you really knew mine, there would be no one else to whom you would talk to or even want to spend time
    But if I knew your heart and if you really knew mine, there would be no one else to whom you would talk, or even want to spend time

    My love and loyalty would ignite your heart to implode, and from this fused connection your passion for me would explode
    My love, my loyalty, would ignite your heart to implode, and from this fused connection your passion for me would explode

    So please dont play with my heart as if it were a toy, instead nurture it with honesty and bring from me sincere joy
    So please, dont play with my heart, it's not a toy. Instead, nurture it with honesty and bring from me sincere joy


    I hate being bipolar...It's fucking ace!

  3. #3
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    It's a very sad poem. I find the process of writing poetry can help deal with stressful situations, can be very revealing and is much more important than the result.

    Thanks for sharing.


    Make your voice count - free Aung San Suu Kyi

  4. #4
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    a fellow poet.
    very nice.

    have u checked out Brave New Voices on HBO?

    my new favorite show.



  5. #5
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    Philip Larkin - Sad Steps

    Groping back to bed after a piss
    I part thick curtains, and am startled by
    The rapid clouds, the moon's cleanliness.

    Four o'clock: wedge-shadowed gardens lie
    Under a cavernous, a wind-picked sky.
    There's something laughable about this,

    The way the moon dashes through clouds that blow
    Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart
    (Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below)

    High and preposterous and separate -
    Lozenge of love! Medallion of art!
    O wolves of memory! Immensements! No,

    One shivers slightly, looking up there.
    The hardness and the brightness and the plain
    Far-reaching singleness of that wide stare

    Is a reminder of the strength and pain
    Of being young; that it can't come again,
    But is for others undiminished somewhere.



  6. #6
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    Wow I write a lot of poetry, done some shows in alot of places in the U.S., this is actually a great thread.



  7. #7
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    Quote Originally Posted by Alyssa87
    a fellow poet.
    very nice.

    have u checked out Brave New Voices on HBO?

    my new favorite show.
    I actually know or have met about 5 people on that show, it's some real talent in that youth group from FLA



  8. #8
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    Default Poetry

    Mia, your poem was enjoyable. It's reminiscent of the works of William Wordsworth. If you haven't already read his poems, he may delight you.

    Miner



  9. #9
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    Quote Originally Posted by T-girl hound
    Quote Originally Posted by Alyssa87
    a fellow poet.
    very nice.

    have u checked out Brave New Voices on HBO?

    my new favorite show.
    I actually know or have met about 5 people on that show, it's some real talent in that youth group from FLA
    ft.lauderdale?

    yeah. one of them, Diego is FINE.
    he makes me feel like a pedo.



  10. #10
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    The world is too much with us; late and soon,
    Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
    Little we see in Nature that is ours;
    We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
    The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
    The winds that will be howling at all hours,
    And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
    For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
    It moves us not.—Great God! I'd rather be
    A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
    So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
    Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
    Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
    Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.



    William Wordsworth, 1806



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