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Help create a poem



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41 Reviews



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Points: 240
Reviews: 41
Fri Apr 27, 2012 11:54 pm
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BelarusBirdy says...



the sky is washed in the satin of sunrise
A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes. I screamed aloud as it tore through them and now it's left me blind.
Florence and the Machine, Cosmic Love
  





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170 Reviews



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Points: 620
Reviews: 170
Sun Apr 29, 2012 5:11 pm
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yubbies21 says...



cold chill blows in,
beep
  





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38 Reviews



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Points: 1538
Reviews: 38
Thu May 03, 2012 9:23 pm
AliyahPillage says...



and it's no longer perfect
Wo Ai Ni (I Love You) Jessicarlie Love
  





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Points: 300
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Tue Oct 30, 2012 12:16 pm
firstflamenow says...



so I turn slowly away
  





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896 Reviews

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Points: 240
Reviews: 896
Wed Oct 31, 2012 1:04 pm
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PenguinAttack says...



On silent summer nights
There are melodies in the skies
The birds chriped softly in the trees, as I sat down on the bench.
Mosquitoes take bites
of my soft silky skin
But the night is irresistible still, and I look to the moon
It's glow reflects off of
the shimmering edge of the lake
A single ripple spoils the reflection, but
it soon becomes smooth and
in the shapes of unicorns,
And flying cows,
and slithering snakes.
Night turns to dawn,
the sky is washed in the satin of sunrise
cold chill blows in,
and it's no longer perfect
so I turn slowly away
while I wait for Summer's blow.

I'm going to end that poem there! It's a good one. :) This time we'll try to keep the previous lines of the poem in every post (or in every fifth post or so), that way we'll know exactly where the poem is going. That said, I propose the next poem beginning:

Below a balcony that was not my own,
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.
  





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107 Reviews



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Points: 9326
Reviews: 107
Wed Oct 31, 2012 1:18 pm
Cadi says...



Below a balcony that was not my own,
I plucked a fine, taut lyre string
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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270 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 5081
Reviews: 270
Sat Nov 03, 2012 3:23 am
fireheartedkaratepup says...



Below a balcony that was not my own,
I plucked a fine, taut lyre string
And while the whippoorwill did cry,

Spoiler! :
I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING I'M SORRY.
"Ok, Lolpup. You can be a girl worth fighting for."
--Pengu
  





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32 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 374
Reviews: 32
Sat Nov 03, 2012 3:55 am
haven235 says...



Below a balcony that was not my own,
I plucked a fine, taut lyre string
And while the whippoorwill did cry,
I continued to play my sorrowful song.
  





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745 Reviews

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Points: 1626
Reviews: 745
Sat Nov 03, 2012 4:50 am
Lumi says...



Below a balcony that was not my own,
I plucked a fine, taut lyre string.
And while the whippoorwill did cry,
I continued to play my sorrowful song.

The blackened trees lent lyrics to my sorrow.
I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much
as I will drown everything you have inside.
-Shinji Moon


I am the property of Rydia, please return me to her ship.
  





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896 Reviews

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Points: 240
Reviews: 896
Sun Nov 04, 2012 7:27 am
PenguinAttack says...



Below a balcony that was not my own,
I plucked a fine, taut lyre string.
And while the whippoorwill did cry,
I continued to play my sorrowful song.

The blackened trees lent lyrics to my sorrow.
Southern winds sluiced the notes upward,
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.
  





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19 Reviews



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Points: 1182
Reviews: 19
Mon Nov 05, 2012 6:10 am
DiskElemental says...



Below a balcony that was not my own,
I plucked a fine, taut lyre string.
And while the whippoorwill did cry,
I continued to play my sorrowful song.

The blackened trees lent lyrics to my sorrow.
Southern winds sluiced the notes upward,
o'er the rotted railing of the balcony above
A man without a plan, or anything else for that matter. (Except a review thread).
  





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896 Reviews

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Gender: Female
Points: 240
Reviews: 896
Sun Dec 02, 2012 1:58 pm
PenguinAttack says...



Below a balcony that was not my own,
I plucked a fine, taut lyre string.
And while the whippoorwill did cry,
I continued to play my sorrowful song.

The blackened trees lent lyrics to my sorrow.
Southern winds sluiced the notes upward,
o'er the rotted railing of the balcony above
and into love's ear.
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.
  





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24 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 2191
Reviews: 24
Sun Dec 02, 2012 2:13 pm
Stellabeam says...



Below a balcony that was not my own,
I plucked a fine, taut lyre string.
And while the whippoorwill did cry,
I continued to play my sorrowful song.

The blackened trees lent lyrics to my sorrow.
Southern winds sluiced the notes upward,
o'er the rotted railing of the balcony above
and into love's ear.

And love cries out, ''Who's there?''
“A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five.”- Groucho Marx

If we don't succeed, we run the risk of failure."-J. Danforth Quayle

I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it- M. Twain
  





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107 Reviews



Gender: None specified
Points: 9326
Reviews: 107
Sun Dec 02, 2012 2:33 pm
Cadi says...



Below a balcony that was not my own,
I plucked a fine, taut lyre string.
And while the whippoorwill did cry,
I continued to play my sorrowful song.

The blackened trees lent lyrics to my sorrow.
Southern winds sluiced the notes upward,
o'er the rotted railing of the balcony above
and into love's ear.

And love cries out, ''Who's there?
Who dare break my sleep with wailing?"
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





User avatar
896 Reviews

Supporter


Gender: Female
Points: 240
Reviews: 896
Wed Dec 05, 2012 1:31 pm
PenguinAttack says...



Below a balcony that was not my own,
I plucked a fine, taut lyre string.
And while the whippoorwill did cry,
I continued to play my sorrowful song.

The blackened trees lent lyrics to my sorrow.
Southern winds sluiced the notes upward,
o'er the rotted railing of the balcony above
and into love's ear.

And love cries out, ''Who's there?
Who dare break my sleep with wailing?"
I cowered quiet - for she was great
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.
  








I cannot separate the aesthetic pleasure of seeing a butterfly and the scientific pleasure of knowing what it is.
— Vladmir Nabokov