₦airaland Forum

@Goldielucks.

I don't meant insults,

We remain but goodfriends/our paths shall cross again/the one devoid of fragility and misunderstanding.


One love dude

reckon you may be talking about ''sex'' here,


You own a golden pen,
and your door might not be knocked by every stranger,
why not open your door to your closest companion,
in that way ,it would be appreciated and loved.
[quote][/quote]@goldielucks

You got it hell wrong all the way,
Those lines are not in any form referring to sexuality or errotism as misconstrued

Your interpretation got me thinking you are around 12 to 15 years old, I don't mean any offence but seriously it's quite shallow.


Well, I won't interpret now, i will give you the grace to read through again.Try don't give up

Goodpeople!

My pen is raging
Over the calories on this juvenile wall
Yet not enough to make the ink fall

My pen seldom bleed without coin
I hung it afloat at a hurdle height like mango
Where it dangles searching for gold and spoils

Well ;
if your day lengthens
And there's no game gale
You can thump at my arty door
And my clever pen will rise aquick
And dish you the lines like fish

To garnish your day
To paint your monotonic ceilings
Into a thrilling portal glass that lasts

All you have to do is tap my arty door
The bolty lock will rid and my pen will dance for coin

It has danced at the golden mall for queens
Also for kings at a crowning Ransom

For birthdays or wedding anniverse
Or for loved one's in closet or at atlas miles
All you have to do is call.+1238097348849


In the 20th century
There's a rising sun unseen
A throbbing drum untored
His name is
'PEN'QUICK' and he welcome you all.



POETRY I CALL IT FOOD FOR IMMORTALITY .



The colorful vapor in poetry that glitz like rainbow

The dangling stanzas thrown from misty yards

An annoying beauty from the dungeon allegories

Such like plucking the moon and paste in the eyes

Such as sculpting the heart into gigantic image as visible as the sun

Such like being to heavens without crossing the whimsy windows

Is why i chose not the mother's bosom for a suckle

Why i bought not a fleece sandal for a buckle

But the torrent words that bleeds from my physic ankle

Is more gratifying-such that makes even the orb to cackle


Poem is painting the abstract into an even or uneven visible and admirable picture.

@Goldieluks\@politrix
you both could be very good in poetry.There's really no point arguing on contents or sounding disdainful of each other, instead pour what you got and let the palms clap for you.




One
Only one
Just one thing
There's only one thing i do
Apart from breathing
And that is poetry

So pour what it is
That is itching plow
And let readers eyes
Begin to glow!


                                     I could moderate if you guys are ready.(A CONTEST) remember no plagiarisms(NO COPY COPY)
                                                                                         NOW!
                                                                                  Topic is: (write a poem describing a beautiful lady who alas was a cripple).

                                                                                  To be reviewed as soon as submitted .Thursday, 19august, 2011
                                                                                     
                                                                                          The winner will get a N500 recharge card of any desired network from me.

                                                                                   Goodluck @Goldieluks and @politrix

                                                        Any other interested writer may dare the pen flair,remember it's strictly poetry/aestheticism is compulsory

The colorful vapor in poetry that glitz like rainbow

The dangling stanzas thrown from misty yards

An annoying beauty from the dungeon allegories

Such like plucking the moon and paste in the eyes

Such as sculpting the heart into gigantic image as visible as the sun

Such like being to heavens without crossing the whimsy windows

Is why i chose not the mother's breast for a suckle

Why i bought not a fleece sandal for a buckle

But the torrent words that bleeds from my physic ankle

Is more gratifying-such that makes even the orb to cackle


Poem is painting the abstract into an even or uneven visible and admirable picture.