I think this SMOKES!

Ah, not true, my good sir. You find not because you seek not.

I appreciate the ten you gave me on my last poem. However, it is undeserved. The poem is a hack and a ripoff, nothing more. I'll try to help you on this one, but take my help with a grain of salt. here goes. S-1 (on) unnecessary. S-2 L-4 Kill it. You can do better. Same for S-3 L-4 S-4 L-3 you're on the right track here. Work the word (temptation) into the poem because I originall thought this was about a boy. Then I figured it's about the Lord. This is all I know, hope it helps.

I wonder why you break rhythm in the last three lines. I weep with joy for Christ has conquered As a tree delivered Him to hades now a tree releases me from bondage Just a thought.

I see the real me in you - paraphrased, and perhaps the best definition of love. The ropes do not seem to follow from the opening as if a step is missing.

You have an impressive resume and vocabulary, Johnny. I suppose that I do appear self-righteous to hypocrites. Anyway, I'm bored by all this blah, blah, blah. Write an article about another lame poet's hair follicles that will be suitable for publication in some "highly respected lit mag." I'll just continue to post here with my opinion of your unimportance and lack of integrity intact. Dan garcia-Black

It's a riddle. Are you a librarian?

Your just to Blobby Arnt you.

Love yourself

Don't change anything.. I think it's already good.

I like. I think the first line from the second stanza should be 'your'.. And the bit about 'Everyone knew that I was wrong'.. Well, shouldn't it be 'thought'? That's just what I think.. Don't change if you think you're right.. k..

Yet you bare not a though for the slipper. With all your pontificating and mindless titter Minor shod fools mark my words Avoid following your vulgar herds For with its exquisite fume A gentleman ne’er leaves the smoking room Your exterior footwear laments For whence you can afford the expense Of a man who will supply Anything that catch your eye Any item with which you have not yet For when within your palace you can stay And ne’er see the light of the day Let the plebs worry about there dress Whilst your feet are all warm and caressed A true Gent be shod in none other Save the mighty slipper

BRUNCH!

I posted a poem full of grammatical and other errors. Why don't you ever comment on mine? This poem is just too simple. That's all.

Iffy

This is a Pimple.

Al giardino spettrale al lauro muto De le verdi ghirlande A la terra autunnale Un ultimo saluto! A l'aride pendici Aspre arrossate nell'estremo sole Confusa di rumori Rauchi grida la lontana vita: Grida al morente sole Che insanguina le aiole. S'intende una fanfara Che straziante sale: il fiume spare Ne le arene dorate: nel silenzio Stanno le bianche statue a capo i ponti Volte: e le cose già non sono più. E dal fondo silenzio come un coro Tenero e grandioso Sorge ed anela in alto al mio balcone: E in aroma d'alloro, In aroma d'alloro acre languente, Tra le statue immortali nel tramonto Ella m'appar, presente.

I like the psuedo-beat thing going on here. I think it's better than mine.

A Sand Sandwich

Oh we do not. knock it off.