Hush my child.\nListen to the night.\nWhispers of the wind fly through your hair.\nDry you eyes of lost hope.\nSee the lights of wishes shine from above,\nLike sequins, sprinkled over a deep blue canvas. \nThe moon high in the sky,\nAs it’s pure white light covers the ground in soft shadows.\nAll is serene.\nEveryone has drifted into the land of fantasies.\nHush my child.\nIt’ll be alright. \nNow close your eyes till mornings light\n\nI know it's not the best poem in the world but does anyone have an idea for a title? But I'm open to any ideas or comments. Thanks.
135456
Hush My Child or It'll be alright. And don't sell yourself short. It is a wonderful poem.
160597
Excellent, the 'feeling' is there, clear and precise. That is my honest view. However, never worry what others think. Write it for yourself and someone dear to you.  Poetry is, and should be personal.  I do not wish to distract from yours, by I wrote 'Dreams' a long time ago. Just for you and not for comment:\n\nDreams.\n\nOh, dreams of youth, now gone with time,\nThe heights you said you once would climb,\nYou kept your feet set in the clay,\nNow all those hopes seem far away.\n\nYou’d be the boss within five years,\nYou kept your mouth shut, you were all ears,\nYou never noticed what was being said,\nYou sadly never turned your head.\n\nYou trusted those you should not trust,\nYou praised those, you should have cursed,\nYour thoughts and plans, you freely gave,\nYou should have stood back, and not been brave.\n\nBut where are they now, while you’re still here,\nSad and broken, they’re full of fear,\nAfraid of what will come and why,\nAfraid of what happens when they die.\n\nWhile you are happy and content,\nMortgage paid, you pay no rent,\nFinances secure, children grown,\nNothing borrowed, all your own.\n\nWhile they all worry day by day,\nYour out whenever, your golf to play,\nSo don’t be sorry, what’s done is done,\nConsider yourself, the luckiest one.\n\nFor you can hold your head up high,\nAnd when it comes for you to die,\nYou’ll stand before the Man above,\nJust tell Him, that you lived and loved.
111602
Lord, keep us safe this night\n\nSecure from all our fears.\n\nMay angels guide us while we sleep,\n\nTill morning light appears.\n\nAmen\n\n\n\nMy heart goes out to you...........
536486
Yellow is not so mellow\n\nOcean-Blue are the life-giving waters taken for granted\n\nRain, wash away my tears. So when the sun appears, I'll see my love again\n\nCreative-a very dear friend of mine that writes beautifully\n\nMy red is so confident that he flashes trophies of war, and ribbons of euphoria\n\nSoft as raindrop, fresh as the sea. Warm as the sunshine, shining on me\n\nBlack is powerful\n\nPunk is feared\n\nQueen jealousy, envy waits behind; Her fiery green gown sneers at the grassy ground\n\nLight-Rainbow
660166
I had to write a poem - yes, I know\nThe problem is I have no talent, though\nI think a lot and hope I'll find a way\nto tell you how I feel...'cause I obey. \n\nLike any human creature, I was told:\n"To share emotions, you have to be bold, \nTo look in other's eyes and speak up right\nabout anything you ...dreamt at night!" \n\nI wish I could find better words to share\nWarm messages about you would care, \nTo teach you some important lesson now\nI wish I had the power to know how. \n\nTo speak about love, and family\nAbout kids and play - yes, I agree\nAbout war and soldiers - so much fear\nAbout weapons, killing - one more tear. \n\nI wish I had a potion or a charm\nProtecting all Americans of any harm\nIf we had dreamt about all that's bad\nthen waking up won't make anyone sad!\n\nI thank you all for listening my work\nI really wish you won't feel I did wrong,\nI hope you all have a great day\nAnd to wirte poems in a better way!
635235
Hiya.  Here's one of my own.  It's depressing, but happiness wasn't a prerequisit.  (By the way, you forgot the "Unstressed/stressed" syllable pattern!)\n\n"Sonnet of Mourning" by Sine Nomine\n\nIt pained me to see others sorely pained;\nLove bade me eagerly to take their stead,\nAnd were I thousand miles away, I strained\nTo loose the tie of anguish, loss and dread.\nNow as I sleep, please know I love you still.\nThough wordless glory crowns my aching heart,\nI'll never sleep and dare to dream until\nYou let me leave and to sweet Grace depart.\n\nDo not weigh down my restful mind with guilt\nThrough heavy tears and lasting mourning sighs,\nFor Heaven's like a finished patchwork quilt\nWith all God's blesséd knots securely tied.\n\nPlease hear my plead and let your crying cease.\nAs I love you, now let me be at peace.
419191
For me that is such a difficult question to answer.  I have so many favorites.  \n\nThe whole poem Desiderata is beautiful and profound.  Every line is special so I will quote only the last ones:\n\n"Therefore be at peace with God, \nwhatever you conceive Him to be,\nand whatever your labors and aspirations,\nin the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.\nWith all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,\nit is still a beautiful world.\nBe cheerful.\nStrive to be happy. "\n\nThen from High Flight by John Gillespie Magee we have:\n\n"Up, up the long delirious, burning blue \nI've topped the windswept heights with easy grace \nWhere never lark, or even eagle flew. \nAnd, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod \nThe high untresspassed sanctity of space, \nPut out my hand, and touched the face of God."\n\nFinally, I would refer you to a poem called Little Bateese by william Henry Drummond.  It is deceptively simple, but again profound.  It speaks of the relationship between grandparents and grandchildren, one of the things that really matter in life for sure.  There is nothing as special as the love of a grandparent and grandchild for each other.  The last lines of the poem are:\n\n"But leetle Bateese! please don't forget\nWe rader you 're stayin' de small boy yet, \nSo chase de chicken an' mak' dem scare\nAn' do w'at you lak wit' your ole gran'pere\nFor w'en you 're beeg feller he won't be dere--\nLeetle Bateese!"\n\nTranslation:  \nBut little Bateese!  Please don't forget\nWe'd rather you stayed a small boy yet\nSo chase the chickens and make them scared\nAnd do what you like with your old grandpere\nFor when you're a big fellow he won't be there -\nLittle Bateese!\n\nI get carried away with poetry!
482294
well its melancholic and easily fits the title "departed". Except your idea seems a bit fragmented in some stages.. yes the imagery in the opening few lines is good but you give away too much. keep it a mystery by using strong elongated metaphors to make the "death" a mere subtlety rather than having this grave sad and melancholic tone imediately established. \nthe name winter i commend you it applies greatly with the feel and raw emotion to the story, try flashbacks, use of colour and motifs to give more depth and meaning breaking the one tone of melacncholy through the story... try and keep with one tense and elaborating on that idea..\ntry interpreting the death differently i didnt expect the mother's death in the end.. however, use previous "departed" charachters in a lighter sense to make the loss of the mother feel much more greater..\n\nhope that helps! Good luck
429121
Well, the biggest piece of irony in the whole poem is the last line!  The writer spends the entire poem talking about unlikely disasters which cause him/her great anxiety while outside the bunker the sun is shining!  Question being raised here is, do you want to spend your life hiding and worrying about things that may never happen, or would you rather be outside enjoying today in the sun?
123357
Oh Bird of paper!\nEagle of the children.\nWith the pens of letters,\nwithout a dove\nand without nest.\n\nThe hands still wet of mystery\nthey create to you in a cold\nto grow dark of autumn, when they die\nthe birds and the noise\nof rain it makes us love the lamp,\nthe heart and the book.\n\nYou are born to live minutes\nin the fragile castle\nof naipes that rises trembly\nas the stem of an iris.\nand you meditate there blinds and without wings\nthat you could have been\nthe grotesco athlete who smiles\nhanged person by a thread,\nthe quiet boat without rowers nor sails,\nthe lírico\nghost ship of the miedoso insect,\nor the sad donkey\nthat they escarnecen, making it the Pegaso,\nthe blowings of the children.\n\nBut in the middle of your meditation\ndrops of humorismo go.\nDone with the crust of science\nyou ***reflx mng yourself of Destino,\nand outcries: "White Flower never dies,\nnor Luisito dies.\nThe morning is eternal, is eternal\nthe source of the dew "\n\nAnd although you do not believe in anything you say this,\nthe children do not find out\nof which there is shade behind stars\nand it shades in your castle.\n\nIn the middle of the table, when collapsing\nyour blue mansion, you have seen\nthat the milano watches to you anxiously:\n"new born.\na foam pomp on the water\nof the alive suffering "\n\nAnd you go to his luminous lips\nwhile the children laugh,\nand the papas shut up, do not awake\nthe neighboring pains.\n\nThus bird clown you disappear\nin order to be born elsewhere.\nThus bird esfinge gives your soul\nof bird fénix to the limb.
166901
underneath the silent sky,\ntime with you just passes by.\nwe're watching as the distant moon,\nsurrounds the land with loving gloom.\n\nyou're holding me in your arms so tight,\ni could not possibly put up a fight.\nyour arms are around my hips,\nand press a kiss upon my lips.\n\nthese are our stolen times together,\ni know we can't be forever.\nfor our true love is but forbidden,\nwe must keep our trysts well hidden.\n\nunderneath the silent sky,\ntime with you just passes by.\nwe're watching as the distant moon,\nsurrounds the land with loving gloom.
336761
my favorite poem...\n\ni carry your heart with me(i carry it in\nmy heart)i am never without it(anywhere\ni go you go,my dear; and whatever is done\nby only me is your doing,my darling)\ni fear\nno fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want\nno world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)\nand it's you are whatever a moon has always meant\nand whatever a sun will always sing is you\n\nhere is the deepest secret nobody knows\n(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud\nand the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows\nhigher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)\nand this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart\n\ni carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) \n\n~ee cummings\n\nanother one that is quite good...though not really about love...\n\ni like my body when it is with your\nbody. It is so quite new a thing.\nMuscles better and nerves more.\ni like your body. i like what it does,\ni like its hows. i like to feel the spine\nof your body and its bones, and the trembling\n-firm-smooth ness and which i will\nagain and again and again\nkiss, i like kissing this and that of you,\ni like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz\nof your electric fur, and what-is-it comes\nover parting flesh ... And eyes big love-crumbs,\n\nand possibly i like the thrill\n\nof under me you so quite new \n\n~ee cummings
224470
its okay try this \n\nlife's fight\n\nlife can be good and bad\nlife is like a war that never ends\nlife is like a perpetual story \nlife is like a puzzle\ntrying to make the entire puzzle pieces fit impeccably\nwould be a perfect life\nlife is like a boundless fight\nwhen you are in trouble\nlife is like a roller coaster going up and down\nlife can only come to an end \nwhen you feel like you have truly finished gods mission\nlife is like a foot ball team \nwhen the win life is victorius \nwhen they lose life is dissapointing\nlife can be as dark as the sky at night \nbut at other times it can be as bright as the sun \nlife ia as sad as a war but as happay as a newborn baby\nin the end god will pick if you go up or down \nlife can be good or bad\n\nthat is a poem made by my brother Patrick McD
207883
I agree its a bit desperate, but definitely very good.  Is this your first poem?  I can't write poetry, its not in my head.
78925
In this liquid crystal haze I wait,\nbreathe, feel the tautness of \nmy need.\nI scan, exhale, and scan again\nthe pixilated emptiness\nthat will not reorder itself\ninto an adequate display\nof love.\nWill I fall headlong into a deep\nchasm, that buries hopes\nof you in the corpse of me?\nYour eternal distance\nI cannot recover.\nI need your warm breath, the\nmagic \nof your laugh\nthe very goodness of you.\nWill me back to sense.\n\n(Copyright reserved.)\n\nI did get that you were using a computer motif (the headache!), and I realize that I strayed from that and went with the feeling of emptiness experienced by the end user that can only be resolved with the presence of another.  (Unfortunate, that!)\n\nSpecific changes, and why I made them:\n1.  "Of every expectant squirm" didn't convey serious intensity, it was more childlike excitement over something sure to happen, but from your poem I didn't get the feeling that the user would ever get the message he desired.  I changed it to a very serious "my need".\n\n2.  Changed sigh to exhale.  Sigh seemed to indicate frustration, and as I changed the level of intensity above, exhale conveyed a more physical withholding of the very act of breathing.\n\n3.  "Will not resolve itself into sufficient love" I changed to "reorder itself" as I pictured the letters on the screen actually shuffling around to say what he wanted them to say (I think you were going with a computer resolution becoming less blurry?); "sufficient" which seemed to ask for a quantity of love -- I changed to "adequate" as I was going with the quality of what was being communicated was not meeting the need.  Not sure if you meant quantity or quality, or maybe both.\n\n4.  Theme of chill/splinters/shards - I just couldn't make that work for me as a reader.  You lost me there because it was so physical rather than emotional.  I went with chasm/corpse/eternal to convey emptiness and despair.  \n\n5.  Changed the final question to a plea.  Changed Charm to Magic (the power needed to bring back life).  \n\n6.  The boiled down message\nMy need\nof love.\nI cannot recover.\nWill me back to sense.\n\nYour poem is cool as it is.  I'm guessing from reading some of your other Q&A that you actually did want people to rewrite/comment.  As you know, some people don't -- they just say they do.\n\nAnyway, yours stands well on its own.  It's different from my version, not better or worse.  Perhaps I put too much feminine drama into it and totally changed the character?  I'd be interested to know if I took it further in the direction you wanted to go, or went way off in a direction you hadn't wanted.\n\nThis was fun!  Thanks.
606610
Lost in the dark reality..\nI am true insanity..\nCold eyes watch every move..\nAs the rain falls..\nAnd the wolf calls..\nThe blood smears..\nAs I drown you in your tears.. \nLives are shattered like mirrors..\nThe lights of hope put out..\nBit by bit we are torn apart..\nYet the battle wages on..\nSome are in the darkness waiting for the dawn that will never come..\nWhile others look the pain and death in the eyes\nAnd try to save other's lives..\nBut in the end..\nWe are like sand blown away in the wind.\n\nWaiting for the cold whisper of fate..\nI am true insanity..\nSilently and gracefully I make blood drops fall from the red-purple sky..\nHe wished I would just die..\nAll this over his lie..\nI attack every Suna moon..\nAs I walk away, I leave blood on every sand dune..\nI wander through the desert..\nDrenched in blood with darkness in my hand..\nThey just cant understand..\nI am true insanity..\n\nI can no longer stand reality..\nI am true insanity..\nI am alone..\nThe only one who I trust is the voice..\nWho resides in my head..\nAnd she wants you dead..\nSo I grant her wish..\n\nShe hates all women except me and herself..\nI am true insanity\nShe fills my head with beliefs and drowns out my past with soothing songs of death..\nShe thinks of me as her daughter and calls me her little desert rose..\nA rose burned from the harsh sun.. Hated for being different..\nA rose that drenches herself in blood to be red like the others..\nYet is never the same..\nSo she hides herself in shame..\nAnd kills..\nTo have the thrills..\nAnd happiness the others have..\n\nShe sings the song desert rose when I cry..\nAnd my eyes always seem to get dry..\nThus I sing Desert Rose every Suna moon.. While I attack..\nYet there is one thing I lack..\nLove..\nIn the streets and buildings they speak of me in whispers..\nCall me the desert rose..\nSay im always close..\nThey say if you go out deep into the desert on a Suna moon you can hear me..\nWatching from the shadows of a Suna moon..
388411
Try this, this is something I found one day, and found it very helpful\n\nDon’t Cry\n\nDon’t cry for me now I am gone, I did not die, my life goes on.\nFor all we shared throughout the years, send me your love without your tears.\nI couldn’t stay, and so instead, I’ve walked a little way ahead.\n\nThis morning I awoke again, to face another day of pain,\nAnd suddenly beheld a door, I’m certain wasn’t there before.\nAnd, trying, found to my surprise, with ease and comfort I could rise.\n\nAnd at the door to welcome me, stood countless friends and family.\nWell-loved and lost so long ago, all gathered now to let me know,\nEternal are the ties that bind our hearts to those we leave behind.\n\nPlease don’t think I don’t still care, those we loved here are still loved there.\nThe darkest night will end with dawn, don’t cry for me, my life goes on.\n\nLove & Peace