Non-Fiction Prose Seeking Honest Critique
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Non-poetic writing including diary extracts, journal entries, letters, essays and art
Honest critique has been requested for these poems. Want to learn the art of critique? Join our Honestly Crafted Critique group.
welcome to not bitchin about taxes
don't believe the hype
you will find clean water
you can run
pick up heavy things
hunt
kill
start a fire
eat
sleep
and it's ok
you will find clean water
you can run
pick up heavy things
hunt
kill
start a fire
eat
sleep
and it's ok
74 reads
4 Comments
Errata d'dada *.........(rather lameXplanAtions of myXistence)
Plus Grandes Expéditions d'un vVai Savant Idiot *
"...
as I don't worry on specifically 'understanding' anything, if I do not respond to part of a note from you, it does not mean I 'reject' whatever it was....I cannot 'respond' to everything even when I do think I understand, as I don't 'believe' what-I-think, mostly because I don't want to 'have'(or be possessed by) My Own Opinion[s].
That's
probably hard to understand, but I don't know how to explain any further
aside from my spontaneous, unplanned writing, I cannot involve myself in any...
"...
as I don't worry on specifically 'understanding' anything, if I do not respond to part of a note from you, it does not mean I 'reject' whatever it was....I cannot 'respond' to everything even when I do think I understand, as I don't 'believe' what-I-think, mostly because I don't want to 'have'(or be possessed by) My Own Opinion[s].
That's
probably hard to understand, but I don't know how to explain any further
aside from my spontaneous, unplanned writing, I cannot involve myself in any...
59 reads
6 Comments
like a ghost(august)
in a crowded ocean
your eyes call me
guidance from raging waters
fear of waves overtaking me
cease
peace as others flail
to shore around me
eyes locked in heavenly embrace
leading me away to safety
your eyes call me
guidance from raging waters
fear of waves overtaking me
cease
peace as others flail
to shore around me
eyes locked in heavenly embrace
leading me away to safety
53 reads
2 Comments
SUGAR AND SPICE
Let me tell you some some bout my girl Wendy.
She a little short with a very loud laugh
Reckless,wild with a peach of immorality
Pride coated with class and elegance
Graced with flawless beauty
Spontaneous,mirthful and a classic intellect
She is what you and I call sugar.
But that’s just a perfected picture in the frame.
Concealed are the bruises of wars fought
Open wounds lay in secret places
Sorrow loss and sadness deeply rooted
She is a glass broken too many times
Sugar coated with spice.
Someday somebody will...
She a little short with a very loud laugh
Reckless,wild with a peach of immorality
Pride coated with class and elegance
Graced with flawless beauty
Spontaneous,mirthful and a classic intellect
She is what you and I call sugar.
But that’s just a perfected picture in the frame.
Concealed are the bruises of wars fought
Open wounds lay in secret places
Sorrow loss and sadness deeply rooted
She is a glass broken too many times
Sugar coated with spice.
Someday somebody will...
46 reads
7 Comments
My Thoughts
How is it that we can mourn the death of an actor but not the deaths of hundreds of men, women, and children getting murdered by a country that will not tolerate diversity or different ideology? How is it that we can sit back and watch the news pouring in while others battle for their freedom against an unjust fascist government that will do anything to eradicate freedom? How is it that we can all have an opinion as long as its the same but if someone else comes by to offer a different viewpoint we slaughter and destroy that which we believe to be wrong? Now I am not a saint and will never be...
47 reads
5 Comments
August 14th 2014
So yesterday, and today are both teary days. It's been a while since I've seen one of my friends. They have a tough life. It was amazing to just hang out with them. We kinda just walked, talked and goofed around. It was like I was back in high school. That kinda made me a little sad. I'm now done savoring the sweet moment and drowning in the despair. Anyways, the main reason I'm writing this is because I've made a mistake. So, right when I saw him, my heart raced. At first, I didn't know if it was because of my social anxiety or what. I had a blast with him. We caught up with each other. We...
37 reads
2 Comments
Falling apart From The Seams
I'm Falling apart From The Seams,
No One Sees It,But I Can't Breathe Anymore..
Sometimes I Imagine Myself Bleeding To Death On the Floor..
I Can't Take It Anymore.
I'm Falling Apart From The Seams..
I Can't Breathe Anymore...
I'm Falling apart From The Seams,
But No One Sees It.
No One Sees It,But I Can't Breathe Anymore..
Sometimes I Imagine Myself Bleeding To Death On the Floor..
I Can't Take It Anymore.
I'm Falling Apart From The Seams..
I Can't Breathe Anymore...
I'm Falling apart From The Seams,
But No One Sees It.
41 reads
4 Comments
Keep Breathing.
Keep Breathing.. Mom Don't You Dare give Up..I cannot Lose You Too. Don't You Dare Give up On Me..No,Not Now. I Need You More Than You Think. I Can't Lose you Mom...I Need You To Keep Fighting For Me..And If You Get Tired..Of Fighting...Then I Understand..You'll Always Be With Me..And I'll Always Be With You..But Mom,Keep Breathing..Just For a Little While Longer...I Honestly Can't Live Without You Mom..I Won'g Be able To Ramble On To Anyone Else.. Mom I Understand If You Get Tired And You Want To Give In..You Can If You Want..
Keep Fighting And Stay Strong.
Love Always,
Angel.
Keep Fighting And Stay Strong.
Love Always,
Angel.
53 reads
2 Comments
Krill and Sea Gods
I face the low swells and try to breathe air, not the saltwater bubbling in my snorkel. I push against the waves and am mindful that the sea can push back harder. I face it, and in a few heartbeats am one with the krill, small and helpless in the vastness, ultimately sucked in and swallowed without a blink.
After a few dozen strokes, I turn and fly — the sea lifts me. Through the mask, I see the sand and rocks below, moving at a pace known by sea gods and my spirit soars.
Once I get closer to shore, I turn again. Back out towards the chopping and slapping, I try not to...
After a few dozen strokes, I turn and fly — the sea lifts me. Through the mask, I see the sand and rocks below, moving at a pace known by sea gods and my spirit soars.
Once I get closer to shore, I turn again. Back out towards the chopping and slapping, I try not to...
64 reads
10 Comments
Pity
I pity the literate, grown up, adult-to-be boys studying in academic institutions and adopting the ways of the world of men by learning and experimenting modes of harassment and crossing THAT line for FUN upon the basic source of knowledge and learning, inhabiting a feminine body in a workplace of education!
27 reads
2 Comments
I wonder
I wonder if the sickness we call insanity is as simple to understand as we make it out to be. I mean we have people to tell us were crazy so they can make money. I don't take medications but I've been told to go talk to a shrink or there's a medicine for that or there's a treatment maybe we're not the victims of others maybe just ourselves the others don't count unless we count them. Sometimes we call it strange or uncaring or cold hearted Idk maybe it's just a realization of something I haven't figured out maybe I'm all wrong and my rant is a jumble of nothing and garbage I'd love to think...
40 reads
0 Comments
August 12th 2014
Some people think poets are these really edgy, daddy hating, suicidal people that are either women or pussy men. Are we? Not all of us. Was I edgy at one point? Kinda, but now I'm experimental and angry. Everyone is angry at something. I'm mad at people, hence why I believe the world should be covered in a radioactive blanket. Maybe you're mad at capitalism or liberals or conservatives or communism or men or women or culture. Am I a pussy? Yes, you are what you eat. However, also that makes me a tofu. My point is, a poet can be anyone. All they have to do is put their thoughts, feeling,...
38 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Non-Fiction Prose Seeking Critique: Short Stories, Diary Entries and Letters (Page 3)