He definitely deserves to be called a loser.

Quite nice... I'd liek top hear more about your mother. What kind of person was she? What was teh story of her life?

Would have made Poe grin.

Nicely written but to the epicness of the picture is lost in such a short poem. The second stanza should be stanza 10 and not 2.

Nice Oriental sounding poem.

Interesting... a dense poem. It sounds to me like it wants to rhyme and have a clearer metre. Reminds me of Bagpipe music by Louis MacNeice: http://www.artofeurope.com/macneice/mac6.htm

Quite nice... sometimes the content is dictated too much by the rhyme for me. And sometimes this tells too much without showing and letting the reader work it out themselves.

Nice details to this, and some good innuendo. (Erect and stiff is very naughty, Dovina. ;)). I've had an unfinished whale poem (not as fun as this) for years--maybe this'll inspire me to finish it. Funny how once in a while there's one that just leaves you stymied re: how to finish it!

'They can me feel stupid'? Deep blue ocean is very very very cliched, see if you can be a bit more inventive there.

I had to chuckle at these descriptions of the makup I use, though in recent years its the trend for older women to use much less than they used to. Still, his image of her with crevaces filled and eyelids shelled is quite nice. Put a space after the colon. And I can't quite picture "rose lips of milk wash."

I like this, especially the ending. Don't think it needs to rhyme, really, or even find a rhythm--I think the imagery is good and sustained and it works as free verse. I would suggest condensing a little here and there--all of the "I wills" for example (e.g., I will take my soul back/knock over your castle with one touch. I will leave you in a state of shock.)--it gets a little long/repetitive. Nice work.

I'm not a big fan of abecedaria (unless it's an Edward Gorey abecedarium: http://www.wishville.co.uk/gorey/a.htm), but it's a fun exercise. Using "A" for _a_ and "the" for _t_ strikes me as cheating a little! ;) Considering you're writing to a formula, this is pretty unstilted and entertaining. Given Delilah, "The Lord," sinning, and zealots, the reference to Juliet (I'm not sure who rosalina is) seems out of place somehow. Anyway, pretty good.

"(revised, liberated)"--hee. I like how you get started. The "get stoned" seems too pat/rhymey as is--I'm not a big fan of second person perspectives ("you"), but I think adding "you" (or better, IMO, "I," making it about YOU, the person in the poem), as in "you get stoned, find that warm spot . . .) would make it flow better. I like the off/near rhyming (e.g., profound/wound/sound) and even the lack of a structured rhyme scheme--keeps it loose. "of morning's traffic at your window" seems wordy--maybe just "of morning traffic"? Sort of brings it to a pause. Last verse kind of loses me--seems out of spirit/feeling with the rest of the poem (aggressive where the rest is sort of languid).

The opening scene is movie-like and vivid, a desert setting with golden hills of sand, and a daughter I'm ready to read more about (Part I). Then, the Lawrence-of-Arabia country becomes another place, which I would not have got from the poem alone. Still, there are doubtless daughters there who hold these thoughts. Nicely said.

Edit please.

"He scans the walls for someone who might, bends forward again— maybe tonight." -Haha, does this mean he's gay? Just Kiddin'. It's really good actually. You feel sympathetic and understand the loser's possition when you read the poem but also you still feel like he's a loser. Very nice sketch of a complex personality.

I don't quite get it... It's like very vague.

You've got a touching story here and some good finished lines - "God listens to rumors, pillow talk and whispers" for example. As it stands, though, it's more of a story or prose poem than a free verse poem. That's ok and may suit your style better. To make it more poem-like, go for brevity and haunting truth couched in flowing words.

This is a great idea but instead of telling us directly what the metaphors are just paint us a scene. Staring through the ropes eye the blue sky like his master's eyes, The silver laced clouds like coins piled in a bag. Now he held the coins He was the bag with rope wrapped around it's throat tightly to secure the purse, to hide the traitor's treasure, to shroud his shame. He let go of the limb outstretched with nail protruding at the end most likely left by some carpenter or an early Roman crucifixion. The rope rubbed against the nail as it swung him like the satchel of coins that the old priest held before him not but a few days ago. He tried to cry out "Forgive me" but the rope held in his bargaining lodging it in his throat. And as the twilight approached a vagrant orphan observed on the mound the body of Judas swinging, still swinging when from the ground a theif emerged with dagger in hand and sliced into the dead man's abdomine letting fall the insides of Judas like so many coins from a torn satchel into the hole the demon had made another bounty to fill the pockets of hell... And the deranged orphan smiled for he had at least stolen one of The Lord's jewels.

Honesty is the best policy. This is just fine the way it is.