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.
Where
Where are all the
heartfelt people,
otherwise known as Poets.
Let me tell you - some day,
some sweet day.
heartfelt people,
otherwise known as Poets.
Let me tell you - some day,
some sweet day.
46 reads
9 Comments
Anonymous.
Dear Anonymous...
First Thing I Want You To Know,Is I Love You More Than Life Its Self.
I'll Miss You So Much..I Don't Like Seeing You Cry,So Don't..Especially Because Of Me.. It Kills Me...Literally Kills Me To Leave. But You Cannot Stay With Me And Have a Good Life..I'm a Burnden To You.. In Order To You Have a Good Life You Need To Leave me Behind Okay?
(Sigh) I'll Miss You More Than Life Itself..
And I Love You More.
Love,Always,
Angel.
First Thing I Want You To Know,Is I Love You More Than Life Its Self.
I'll Miss You So Much..I Don't Like Seeing You Cry,So Don't..Especially Because Of Me.. It Kills Me...Literally Kills Me To Leave. But You Cannot Stay With Me And Have a Good Life..I'm a Burnden To You.. In Order To You Have a Good Life You Need To Leave me Behind Okay?
(Sigh) I'll Miss You More Than Life Itself..
And I Love You More.
Love,Always,
Angel.
60 reads
2 Comments
Memories
So many memories, such a big past. Where does it all begin; where does it end and where does it all collide?
28 reads
0 Comments
gloomy sundae (w/whipcream & cherries)*
(another in the series: "Great Communiques of Paradoxymoronic
Preponderance"
by: dkzk )
-----------------------------------[photo:"hahalogia",by:dkzk---
"glad ye enjoyed it.......& sorry that I cannot be more helpful in understanding poems. After so many decades of straining to 'understand' things, ideas, other people, our collective madness & denial, this 'craving' to 'make sense' of any'fckn'thing seems just an over-rated pain in the head, leading to too much...
Preponderance"
by: dkzk )
-----------------------------------[photo:"hahalogia",by:dkzk---
"glad ye enjoyed it.......& sorry that I cannot be more helpful in understanding poems. After so many decades of straining to 'understand' things, ideas, other people, our collective madness & denial, this 'craving' to 'make sense' of any'fckn'thing seems just an over-rated pain in the head, leading to too much...
40 reads
4 Comments
Just Love
She would like the world to be an exuberant place with people who love to love, with things that doesn't matter but with a race of people with just love and optimism in their heart and mind.
She would like to live in a world where irrelevant things doesn't matter but how you are careless in love with the world and how you can be a caretaker for anyone who needs it without a flinch if doubt of what your going to do. Your way of oblivion love is the way that the love would grow and that's what she wants to see.
This is the the world she WANT to live in, with everything and...
She would like to live in a world where irrelevant things doesn't matter but how you are careless in love with the world and how you can be a caretaker for anyone who needs it without a flinch if doubt of what your going to do. Your way of oblivion love is the way that the love would grow and that's what she wants to see.
This is the the world she WANT to live in, with everything and...
37 reads
2 Comments
Grey Area
I’ve been living in this mist. This achromatic atmosphere. An environment with no darkness and no light. I am unaware of what these feelings are that I possess. The dread of sunlight, the comfort of rain and night. Love is this thing I don’t understand. It seems as though it is merely an object, an object that kind of just floats around my mind. It seems as though it can never become a part of me, but rather just surround outside of me. I can observe it, I can see it happening, but I’m not sure I can feel it. It’s this idea that exists like the idea of God. I revel in this monotone lifestyle....
32 reads
0 Comments
Mother's Quilt
I took her clothes; I cut them piece by piece
in the tiny patterns to be, from her soul,
woven razors in dainty hankies
for every tear that touched her cheek,
reminding me of a golden locket
where she kept her potted rouge, it sheds colors
of reddened haze that makes my heart bleed,
I cast the batting, stitch by stitch she had shown me;
my mother’s quilt, I reach for it in comfort,
it is a treasure, I hold it at times – I fall asleep.
in the tiny patterns to be, from her soul,
woven razors in dainty hankies
for every tear that touched her cheek,
reminding me of a golden locket
where she kept her potted rouge, it sheds colors
of reddened haze that makes my heart bleed,
I cast the batting, stitch by stitch she had shown me;
my mother’s quilt, I reach for it in comfort,
it is a treasure, I hold it at times – I fall asleep.
69 reads
11 Comments
Unsent love letter
I sit here and think about you as I often do and I love the way I feel inspired every time I am with you.
How is it that you managed to accomplish in a few months what I have failed to do in years?
You have no idea what my true feelings are, yet sometimes it feels like you know me better than I know myself.
It is so unbelievably frustrating to want someone so badly, but having no idea if you feel the same.
You sometimes hint at the things I dream about, but I have no idea if you are serious or if you are just thinking out loud like you do sometimes, without knowing what you...
How is it that you managed to accomplish in a few months what I have failed to do in years?
You have no idea what my true feelings are, yet sometimes it feels like you know me better than I know myself.
It is so unbelievably frustrating to want someone so badly, but having no idea if you feel the same.
You sometimes hint at the things I dream about, but I have no idea if you are serious or if you are just thinking out loud like you do sometimes, without knowing what you...
56 reads
1 Comment
UNA (Acrostic-tanka)
Fortuitous lass
Una, my darling great aunty
Living a century
Daughter of the lone prairie
Abiding happy is she
Una, my darling great aunty
Living a century
Daughter of the lone prairie
Abiding happy is she
34 reads
6 Comments
2 AM
You are the thoughts invading my mind at every 2
in the morning when the one thing I want is the
one thing I am deprived of.
Sleep.
And you...
My arms are nothing but goosebumps that are numb from
the cold air hitting them, jealous of their heat.
Each swirl in the design of my ceiling creates
the letters that create your name. I can't look
away or close my eyes, too afraid that if I do
they will disappear and there will be nothing
left to comfort me in the dark.
You are each stripe in my sweater, the ones I
argued were black...
in the morning when the one thing I want is the
one thing I am deprived of.
Sleep.
And you...
My arms are nothing but goosebumps that are numb from
the cold air hitting them, jealous of their heat.
Each swirl in the design of my ceiling creates
the letters that create your name. I can't look
away or close my eyes, too afraid that if I do
they will disappear and there will be nothing
left to comfort me in the dark.
You are each stripe in my sweater, the ones I
argued were black...
38 reads
0 Comments
Sociopathic Teenage Boys & Time-Travelling World Saver's: Angsty Tom/Arry Prose
These quiet soles
cross our
threshold
of a shared chamber
absently
But I feel my lungs
extinguish their life
at this sight
Your back is turned away from me
wild tendrils of black
threaded to your scalp
are soaked and dripping
spilling
little rivers
down the endless planes
of your naked skin
until they rush to
embrace the towel
hitched
at your hip
Rugged and broad
a man with scars
scars I will give you
The expanse of your bare shoulders
slope to meet
symmetrically...
cross our
threshold
of a shared chamber
absently
But I feel my lungs
extinguish their life
at this sight
Your back is turned away from me
wild tendrils of black
threaded to your scalp
are soaked and dripping
spilling
little rivers
down the endless planes
of your naked skin
until they rush to
embrace the towel
hitched
at your hip
Rugged and broad
a man with scars
scars I will give you
The expanse of your bare shoulders
slope to meet
symmetrically...
40 reads
0 Comments
listen
The more I think the angrier I get them I think some more. I have close to nothing left at least I have my mother. I'm no longer a part of the army. No my own inability to.... Idk just my inability has cost me my military career my ride to college. What future is left an 18 year old who's anxiety and fear controller him. Who cries because he is too weak to be a man and get over himself. Honestly that is who I am.
32 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Non-Fiction Prose Seeking Critique: Short Stories, Diary Entries and Letters (Page 4)