Writingpoetry

[ Join Free! ]
(No Spam mail)

dotsdots
nav
  • RolePlay
  • Join Us
  • Writings
  • Shoutbox
  • Community
  • Digg Mashup
  • Mp3 Search
  • Online Education
  • My Youtube
  • Ear Training
  • Funny Pics
  • nav



    nav
  • Role Play
  • Piano Music
  • Free Videos
  • Web 2.0
  • nav



    << | >>
    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Poem of Cold Placesdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: LunaMoth
    Elite Ratio:    5.87 - 25/19/10
    Words: 109
    Class/Type: Poetry/Love
    Total Views: 965
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 781



    Description:
       It's not precisely a love poem, but that was as close as I could get.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsPoem of Cold Placesdots
    -------------------------------------------


    The deserts are frozen
    and so are the forests,
    and the raindrops
    hang suspended
    in the icy air.

    You walk here
    and there,
    hands in
    pockets,
    head down.

    You do not
    see the frostís
    thin writing.

    Past the gate of
    the white picket
    fence, which
    stands ajar,
    although no one
    goes into
    the garden
    anymore.
    The roses
    will not open.

    And I speak but this:

    In a world which so
    suddenly
    lost its ups and
    downs,
    as for those who fall,
    for the trippers
    and the stumblers,

    could we not as well
    call them
    angels?




    Submitted on 2008-07-30 22:51:55     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      Here is this poem translated into rednecK:

    Th' deserts is frozen an' so is th' fo'ests, an' th' raindrops hang suspended in th' icy air. Yo' walk hyar an' thar, han's in pockets, haid down, as enny fool kin plainly see. Yo' does not see th' frostís thin writin'. Past th' gate of th' white picket fence, which stan's ajar, although no one goes into th' garden ennymo'e. Th' roses will not open, as enny fool kin plainly see. An' ah speak but this: In a wo'ld which so suddenly lost its ups an' downs, as fo' them who fall, fo' th' trippers an' th' stumblers, c'd we not as fine call them angels?

    I just thought it was funny.

    If you want to dialectize anything go to http://www.rinkworks.com/dialect/
    | Posted on 2008-08-30 00:00:00 | by LunaMoth | [ Reply to This ]
      Well, since ma already nitpicked, I guess I don't have much else to add, although I do like "frost's thin writing", but I see where ma is coming from. And I do like "the roses will not open." Only because it will not open in contrast with the gate, which does open.

    The end of this poem is gorgeous, and you sound like someone whom I would love to speak with only so I could see the beauty in your mind. It was just so lovely, honestly. So pure.

    Thank you for sharing.
    Be well,
    ~Azura*
    | Posted on 2008-08-01 00:00:00 | by EmpathicAya | [ Reply to This ]
      Well...
    Well I...
    I...
    I can only say...

    Wow.


    (And I would keep the line spacing the way it is.)
    | Posted on 2008-07-31 00:00:00 | by WhatYouWill | [ Reply to This ]
      The deserts are frozen,
    as are the forests, the raindrops
    hang suspended in the icy air.

    walking here and there,
    hands in pockets,
    head down.

    unseen are the frost's thin words.

    past the gate of the white picket
    fence, which stands ajar,
    although no one goes into this
    garden anymore.
    for the roses will not unfold.

    And I speak but this:
    In a world which so suddenly
    lost its ups and downs,
    as for those who fall,
    for the trippers, the stumblers

    could we not as well
    call them angels?


    hmmmm... well then.
    i must apologize for taking so much liberty with your words but these are only the humble ideas of a fellow stringer together-er of said thingies.
    so please take them as such and whatnot.

    now i must admit to being quite perplexed as to what may or may not be the goings on here. i do take away a vivid image of a small cemetery more quiet than perhaps, oh say, around memorial day. silent under a fresh blanket of new snow and somehow forgotten.
    not sure why, this, but it was just the image that stuck upon my read.
    quite lovely without revealing much.
    or maybe it is my tired eyes?

    fill me in if you like.

    ~ma

    | Posted on 2008-07-31 00:00:00 | by ma | [ Reply to This ]


    Think Feedback more than Compliments :: [ Guidelines ]

    1. Be honest.
    2. Try not to give only compliments.
    3. How did it make you feel?
    4. Why did it make you feel that way?
    5. Which parts?
    6. What distracted from the piece?
    7. What was unclear?
    8. What does it remind you of?
    9. How could it be improved?
    10. What would you have done differently?
    11. What was your interpretation of it?
    12. Does it feel original?



    164146

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

    untitled written by ShyOne
    Cover written by saartha
    Alone in the Crowd written by SavedDragon
    Fasade written by jackz
    Every..... written by jackz
    More then just goodbye written by faideddarkness
    Supernatural Cowboy Sleuth (7) written by endlessgame23
    Dashboard Light written by layDsayD
    Whiteout written by layDsayD
    Devils in the Details written by endlessgame23
    written by Daniel Barlow
    Primitive Lapse written by Crestfallenman
    Love written by saartha
    My Four Seasons written by faideddarkness
    Shi written by ShyOne
    prison written by ShyOne
    Supernatural Cowboy Sleuth (4) written by endlessgame23
    World I No Longer Want written by ForgottenGraves
    descent written by TheBadSadMan
    PEARL (Exclusive Poem) 10th Anniversary... written by Cordell
    Supernatural Cowboy Sleuth (final) written by endlessgame23
    Physician, Heal Thyself written by WriteSomething
    Or are we written in the sand? written by Chelebel
    Supernatural Cowboy Sleuth (5) written by endlessgame23
    Sunset written by rev.jpfadeproof
    Cosmic Dreams written by Chelebel
    the living moment written by ShyOne
    The Severed Head written by HisNameIsNoMore
    written by Daniel Barlow
    Waiting written by Daniel Barlow

    Google
     


    poetry

    dotsLogindots

    User Name:

    Password:

    [ Quick Signup ]
    [ Lost Password ]


    January 10 07
    131,497 Poems
    Posted

    I have 14,000+ Subscribers on Youtube. See my Video Tutorials

    [ Angst Poetry ]
    [ Cutters ]
    [ Famous Poetry ]
    [ Poetry Scams ]



    FontSize:
    [ Smaller ] [ Bigger ]
     Poetry