"critisim" poems - Hello Poetry

Thou shall not plagiarize other people's work The first commandment for a poet It's a shame that some people do it While others simply don't know it A poem doesn't always have to rhyme The second commandment we must obey But some people choose not to listen Regardless of what others might say A poem can be about anything you want The third commandment sends some people reeling They think it can't be a poem at all Unless it's something to do with our feelings Thou shall not criticize others unjustly The fourth commandment we must adhere They don't need their creation destroyed It's constructive critisim they want to here A poem can be any length you choose The fifth commandment we all must follow For if they were all made the same It would surely be hollow The vocabulary is strictly up to the poet The sixth commandment is the poet's choice He alone can decide the words to use That will best give him his voice Inspiration can come from anywhere we like The seventh commandment we all hold true Everyone has their writer's block moments So whatever helps us get through The poet can write any form they want The eighth commandment is a must The poet knows the style they like best And their choices we're obliged to trust Poetry is all a matter of taste The ninth commandment is just like the rest The reader must choose what's dear to his heart And the poems that he likes the best Never alienate your readers The tenth commandment speaks for itself Cause if you act like you're better than them Your books will stay on the shelf

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Apr 17, 2010

Apr 17, 2010 at 6:42 PM UTC

larry-b

The Poet's Ten Commandments

Thou shall not plagiarize other people's work The first commandment for a poet It's a shame that some people do it While others simply don't know it A poem doesn't always have to rhyme The second commandment we must obey But some people choose not to listen Regardless of what others might say A poem can be about anything you want The third commandment sends some people reeling They think it can't be a poem at all Unless it's something to do with our feelings Thou shall not criticize others unjustly The fourth commandment we must adhere They don't need their creation destroyed It's constructive critisim they want to here A poem can be any length you choose The fifth commandment we all must follow For if they were all made the same It would surely be hollow The vocabulary is strictly up to the poet The sixth commandment is the poet's choice He alone can decide the words to use That will best give him his voice Inspiration can come from anywhere we like The seventh commandment we all hold true Everyone has their writer's block moments So whatever helps us get through The poet can write any form they want The eighth commandment is a must The poet knows the style they like best And their choices we're obliged to trust Poetry is all a matter of taste The ninth commandment is just like the rest The reader must choose what's dear to his heart And the poems that he likes the best Never alienate your readers The tenth commandment speaks for itself Cause if you act like you're better than them Your books will stay on the shelf

40

I cant think I cant breathe All I am Is mad I breathe deep I grate my teeth I squeeze my phone Till it almost breaks. But nothing helps this angry feeling. maybe if I hadn't been pushed To my breaking point then maybe I would be ok Maybe I wouldn't feel so bad. Maybe if you just believed that not everything is my fault. it really hurts that you don't Believe me! You just blame me Don't you think I already hate me enough? I'm tired of your critisim your accusing words And your hypocritical looks. I hate it And I cant say anything back!!!!! And that's what makes me mad the most!

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Jul 27, 2013

Jul 27, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC

hayden-emily-rose-zhara

mad

I cant think I cant breathe All I am Is mad I breathe deep I grate my teeth I squeeze my phone Till it almost breaks. But nothing helps this angry feeling. maybe if I hadn't been pushed To my breaking point then maybe I would be ok Maybe I wouldn't feel so bad. Maybe if you just believed that not everything is my fault. it really hurts that you don't Believe me! You just blame me Don't you think I already hate me enough? I'm tired of your critisim your accusing words And your hypocritical looks. I hate it And I cant say anything back!!!!! And that's what makes me mad the most!

34

i live in my own little community we are all crazy we are broken we are wounded from the things weve been through, the things we seen. we are ruined from the things that stick with us. tears running down your face, when they hit the ground they seem so loud. we are all a little insane here. your breathing seems so loud. from our abusive parents or the critisim we deal with everyday, the knife that met our wrists or the drugs we got hooked on we are bruised we are damaged living here i am never alone your heart beat seems so loud. i open my eyes and suddenly, i don't hear your tears anymore. i can't hear your breathing anymore? why did your heart stop beating? i take a look around me and finally the reality hits me of having noone. it's just me and these **** padded walls.

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Aug 23, 2010

Aug 23, 2010 at 7:47 PM UTC

maria-julianna-francesca-masca

Insanity.

i live in my own little community we are all crazy we are broken we are wounded from the things weve been through, the things we seen. we are ruined from the things that stick with us. tears running down your face, when they hit the ground they seem so loud. we are all a little insane here. your breathing seems so loud. from our abusive parents or the critisim we deal with everyday, the knife that met our wrists or the drugs we got hooked on we are bruised we are damaged living here i am never alone your heart beat seems so loud. i open my eyes and suddenly, i don't hear your tears anymore. i can't hear your breathing anymore? why did your heart stop beating? i take a look around me and finally the reality hits me of having noone. it's just me and these **** padded walls.

22

My Hands Covered With Dust, From Molding My Cracked Clay Heart Back Together, My Chilled Test Tube Full, From Concocting A Hearty Brew Of Strength, The Clothes I Wear, Are A Mask And Saftey Pins, To Hold Myself Together, When All I Want To Do Is Break, I Do Not Need An Opinion On My Woes, Because All Which Fills My Head Is Critisim, I Do Not Need Words To Heal My Wounds--No! Enough Words! Words Can Be Beautiful, But Too Many People Have Been Using This Magic Only To Hurt, I'm Tired Of Trying To Please Others, Trying To Appease Anyone In This Hell, I Have Had Enough Of Telling Myself Don't Cry, Not Here, I've Been Doing So Good, Yet I'm Treated Like I Haven't Been, Constantly Being Whipped By Venom Covered Spines, Taking Their Toll--Swimming Through Corrupted Veins, My Liver Failing From The Poison, And As I Die In The Weaning Sunlight, I Am Bitter And I Don't Care

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Dec 13, 2012

Dec 13, 2012 at 5:08 PM UTC

sydney-victoria

I'm Bitter And I Don't Care

My Hands Covered With Dust, From Molding My Cracked Clay Heart Back Together, My Chilled Test Tube Full, From Concocting A Hearty Brew Of Strength, The Clothes I Wear, Are A Mask And Saftey Pins, To Hold Myself Together, When All I Want To Do Is Break, I Do Not Need An Opinion On My Woes, Because All Which Fills My Head Is Critisim, I Do Not Need Words To Heal My Wounds--No! Enough Words! Words Can Be Beautiful, But Too Many People Have Been Using This Magic Only To Hurt, I'm Tired Of Trying To Please Others, Trying To Appease Anyone In This Hell, I Have Had Enough Of Telling Myself Don't Cry, Not Here, I've Been Doing So Good, Yet I'm Treated Like I Haven't Been, Constantly Being Whipped By Venom Covered Spines, Taking Their Toll--Swimming Through Corrupted Veins, My Liver Failing From The Poison, And As I Die In The Weaning Sunlight, I Am Bitter And I Don't Care

23

I just wanted to thank all of you wonderful beautiful people All of my lovely followers And those who have given your amazing opinions, compliments, and constructive critisim on my work I thank you from the bottom of my heart I cherish all of you For you have no idea how much your support means Much love - Natasha

0

Jun 30, 2013

Jun 30, 2013 at 7:57 AM UTC

biyoekii

Just a thank you to all of you

I just wanted to thank all of you wonderful beautiful people All of my lovely followers And those who have given your amazing opinions, compliments, and constructive critisim on my work I thank you from the bottom of my heart I cherish all of you For you have no idea how much your support means Much love - Natasha

8

The clock strikes eight o'clock and the realization sets in. The birds have stopped their singing, the sun has ceased it's shining, and the wind is not blowing. There is nothing but my thoughts and I. The world is still, not a cloud in sight. I am a prisoner taken by night. Succeeding in forcing my thoughts out of my mind in the day, they hit me like a ton of bricks. I am a prisoner. They lock me in my room when all I want to do is sit and watch the stars. They force me to give into the shadows, to sit by myself and think. I am not allowed to write, for my hands are tied behind my back and they have broken my pencils in to. Forever do I long to be freed, to be who I am, a free spirit. I do not wish to be captivated by normalcy any longer. They feel it in their fingertips and in their toes. I was meant for so much more. My heart yearns to be free, to feel what it wants without critisim. My thoughts ache to be written.

0

Feb 8, 2015

Feb 8, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC

Rumorr

Dizzy and confused

The clock strikes eight o'clock and the realization sets in. The birds have stopped their singing, the sun has ceased it's shining, and the wind is not blowing. There is nothing but my thoughts and I. The world is still, not a cloud in sight. I am a prisoner taken by night. Succeeding in forcing my thoughts out of my mind in the day, they hit me like a ton of bricks. I am a prisoner. They lock me in my room when all I want to do is sit and watch the stars. They force me to give into the shadows, to sit by myself and think. I am not allowed to write, for my hands are tied behind my back and they have broken my pencils in to. Forever do I long to be freed, to be who I am, a free spirit. I do not wish to be captivated by normalcy any longer. They feel it in their fingertips and in their toes. I was meant for so much more. My heart yearns to be free, to feel what it wants without critisim. My thoughts ache to be written.

9