Words positioned properly surely creates a thought for my penny. I have always loved beauty, best in poetry.

sprezatura:

Please people i was shortlisted for the poetry.com poetry competition semifinals sometime last year but i never got back to them because they wanted me to pay some amount for things i can't remember now, i didnt pay because i had won the poetry in motion competiton sometime back and i never got my money but my name is still displayed on the site, how can i get my money plz na tachy but na my sweat any ideas please.


"Short enough to be very appealing, yet long enough to cover the subject matter. " Khaleefa that quote is so original

hi dont ever bother yourself about poetry.com i won their prize of $20,000 in year 2003 but i didnt get my money cuz the embassy refused to give me visa so they gave it to another person i complained bitterly but the embassy was deaf to my pleas to go for the prize instead they told me it was a scam and i confirmed that another person received it so you see dont post your poems there again they will post it cuz they will publish it and keep the money for themselves dont worry God will create another rewarding aenue for your poems.

Did you have to be there to receive your financial prize?

[b]Love Is Dead!
If you search for love
And you do not find it
Search for joy
And you will find it
Search for peace
It is there for you
If you search for love
And you do not find it
Search for life
you will find it
search for all other things
And u will find them
Do not search for love
Becos "LOVE IS DEAD"
Search for the living
And not the dead
LOVE is among the dead.

Omolola Tonie Adebimpe Jimoh
Copyright ©2007 Omolola Tonie Adebimpe Jimoh[/b]

I normally write poems when I meet a girl I'm really fond of.  And if she does not send my text poems, I probably lose interest.  So, maybe I'm going to end up with someone with a poetic side, who appreciates my poems - that's if they aint whack. 

Ok, I share one of my earliest text poems with you, dear poetic friends

Darkest night, silent night
None to hold, none to fight
Dearest pillow, i hold you tight
To ever meet you, Odun, is to forever see light
Never out of my mind, never out of my sight
I owe you one thing, and that's to love you right
If you allow me, maybe I might
Maybe I just might

hi don't ever bother yourself about poetry.com i won their prize of $20,000 in year 2003 but i didnt get my money because the embassy refused to give me visa so they gave it to another person i complained bitterly but the embassy was deaf to my pleas to go for the prize instead they told me it was a scam and i confirmed that another person received it so you see don't post your poems there again they will post it because they will publish it and keep the money for themselves don't worry God will create another rewarding aenue for your poems.

Thanks gal, and later some sick american would say nigerians are corrupt and fraudulent, anyway love your poem, would want to know what the reason behind it is, dont want to say its heart break but it reeks of it, viewed your profile and u said you won in 2003 dats impressive.

sprezatura:

Ruudie put some of yours up for execution, seems like its just moi n khaleefa that have lived up to your challenge are we all scared of folks stealing ourlines

I never challenged anyone. . . . but i'll oblige anyways 

Always Nu’…

If there’s no lovin’ you,
My life’s worth, I’ve not a clue,
For choicer are few,
And none can be as true. . . 
So I’ll just stick to your memories like glue,
Be it mean a lifetime of blue,
C'os through' autumn, summer and spring’s hue,
Even winter’s weary dew,
In my eyes, you’re always nu'. . .

A lotta works here lean too heavily on rhyme.
You stretch it too far and it goes slack. Just in case you are wondering what else can enrich a poem:
A poem should have an appeal for three main areas of the senses; ears-sound/rhyme, sight-imagery, feel-emotion . A proportionate mix of these will always produce a good reaction. Unfortunately, a lot of aspiring poets' perception of poetry is heavily tilted toward the sound appeal.

A lotta works here lean too heavily on rhyme.
You stretch it too far and it goes slack. Just in case you are wondering what else can enrich a poem:
A poem should have an appeal for three main areas of the senses; ears-sound/rhyme, sight-imagery, feel-emotion . A proportionate mix of these will always produce a good reaction. Unfortunately, a lot of aspiring poets' perception of poetry is heavily tilted toward the sound appeal.

A poem appealing only to the ears could be annoying at times, cos it gets to a point where its obvious the rhymes are forced, thats why the modernists poems are better engaging. Rhyme free and they dont make the poems sound like "whip whop" the Vanilla Ice brand of hip hop

Ruudie man, nice idea, like the angle you came from, but the blues and Hues sound forced, sound like a chelsea fan grumbling from a loss. Bluee, huee. new.

[center]This is not my best but I like it because it's full of the mix I was talking about:
TWILIGHT ZONE
My strength failing
I clutch for support as I sink through the emptiness of air
Floor's indifference takes my fall and offers me pain
My breath escapes like a cat fleeing a burning building

In my skull, silence explodes!
I strain my ear to pick up the sound of concern
But activity has no time for me

I seek a voice to state my case
But my vocal chord strangles my cause

All these gets filed away in my memory
Which is already an overflowing archive of pain and hurt

I lie befuddled as everyone walks and talks
My prostrate form becoming a pipe through which resentment and bitterness course
I grumble that my life is a sweaty and screaming nightmare

Light fades as my thoughts take a walk on the shadowed track of despair
I lose my footing, on reason, on joy
Depression ambushes and coshes my head
I fall unconscious: coldness and numbness blanketing me
Happiness is not cold enough to revive me

I wake up later and unwind memories reel
I make a movie screen out of air
It ripples with images of the past
And reflects grotesque shadows of the future

My vision is so clouded
It's rainy season in my head
To control the flood, I grab a pen and write
Punctuating each line with a sigh

My bones are rickety furniture
They bear my weight with complaining creaks

In a crowded world
I manage to feel alone
Caged by fears, released by tears

I muse that if it was up to me, I wouldn't live
I would decide that it was easier to just leave

There are those who have it better
And those who have it worse
Neither better nor worse
I stand in twilight zone[/center]
Alfred Iwerebor (c)2006
WARNING:COPYRIGHT PROTECTED!

In a crowded world
I manage to feel alone
Caged by fears, released by tears

i like that good work

This work is like a supermarket. So many good things to shop from it. If I am allowed to say this.
I was very low on emotional energy at the time of it's inspiration/creation.

This verse stands out for me:
"My bones are rickety furniture
They bear my weight with complaining creaks"

If wishes were horses,
Beggars would ride
If wishes were mansions,
in them would beggars reside.
If wishes were dishes, beggars would be fat,
Since wishes are just wishes,
Beggars are just that.

I guess what sprked off my poetic side was my big sis.
She is an incredible writer. And 1 day I thot 2 myself ' I can do that!"

@poster

i AINT FOUND IT YET

tjwealthy:

If wishes were horses,
Beggars would ride
If wishes were mansions,
in them would beggars reside.
If wishes were dishes, beggars would be fat,
Since wishes are just wishes,
Beggars are just that.

I guess what sprked off my poetic side was my big sis.
She is an incredible writer. And 1 day I thot 2 myself ' I can do that!"

Really nice man. . . . . touching; makes me think of my own big sis'

doyin13:

@poster

i AINT FOUND IT YET

fret not man. . . it'll come to ya, u don't even have to go looking 4 it!

If violets were dark

and roses were blue

I might just be a red

I am not expecting you to call me at midnight to tell me you found it EVER.
Cos there is no such thing as poetic side. It's a myth.

If violets were dark

and roses were blue

I might just be a red

Grin Grin Grin

This is not it. Stop forcing it.

Ok just for you Iwerebor

I will write a poem

Let's see how well I do

doyin13:

If violets were dark

and roses were blue

I might just be a red

Instead you choose maroon and an empty cannon




you sure found it in world record speed. . . . .

If violets were dark

and roses were blue

I might just be a red

Doyin my guy, you try, couldnt stop laughing,

@ Palmer

"Do not search for love
Becos "LOVE IS DEAD"
Search for the living
And not the dead
LOVE is among the dead".

Now why do I have the feeling that this was written while you were swimming in the sea of heartbreak? LOL
Eloquent expression of heartfelt disappointment in Love. I like it.

I really can't tell.
I've been writing for as long as i can remember

I have always been left befuddled by the art of poetry, seeing it as at best selfindulgent.

Well, I decided to make an effort. I am sure I have only grazed that elusive 'poetic side',
but if you don't like it, tough, take me to Judge Judy, if you like.

What makes a man

Is it the size of his wallet

or the width and length of his barn

Or is it measured by the number of welts he inflicts

on the back of his woman

or perhaps how many male backs he puts to the ground

or might we measure a man by the

length and girth of the pod hanging from his legs

or the decibels of the moans which his woman produces

or is it just the gift of the gab

and how many female conquests that obtains

or is it a spirit of the reckless

a thirst for danger

a mistaken brevity

a ready excuse when real men

make their early exits from this world

as real men it seems should

started out pretty nicely. . . . cipher tight; good rhythmn, balance and flow. . . . but the end seemed to take much shine o'utta the entire piece. . . . got me wondering "what in the world is he yapping about!"

its good nonetheless, but u just got 2 keep the consistency. . . . . finish in line with the pace-setter!

Who needs pictures…

Its still here, there and everywhere,
As days go by,
A new replay,
Flic after flic,
Clearer with every passing trip,
A step nearer with every return,
Impressions bolder in fresher re-runs,
Tiny goblets now river basins,
Floods in full flow,
Breaking free and running farther away,
Yesterday fitted into tomorrow’s today,
More precious than previous,
Yet loathed to extents higher,
Oh yes! Who needs pictures …

I started mine five years ago!it was just like a smile,that bright ones chick. Back then I knew not something they call poem.even tho its bin five a years, I am still a learning poet.

I started poetry just two years ago, for I don't want to die without dyeing something. My first poetry was on nature. Heartbroken made me to realized who am I. Poetry is now my second love but still searching for the first.