Lit.Org - a community for readers and writers Advanced Search
 




Average Rating
0.00

(0 votes)

You must login to vote

this poem is sort of bad.. so please dont be too harsh, but still tell me the truth...

How can I show,
my love for you?
How can i say it,
with words so true?

Why am I devoting,
my life for you?
Why do I sometimes cry,
when thinking of you?

I love you, I love you,
I promise I do.
To love, and be loved,
I'm hopelesly devoted to you.

I dont know how to say it,
but if I could show you better I would.
Sweetie, you mean everything,
I cant believe I've already found my love so true.

Forever I do,
promise to cherish you.
If ever I dont suceed,
know its not because of you.

I'll need you sometimes,
to hold me tight,
just like you'll need me,
I'll be right by your side.

No words can express,
my feelings for you,
but till the day I die,
I promise to always love you.

------
~+stephie+~


Related Items

Comments

The following comments are for "love so true"
by grandmasgirl

you are your own critic
ah ha ha ha ha ha. theyre not gonna tell you the truth, theyre your friends. but i will. the first truth is this, if you thinks its bad, then, it probably is. having said, you critiqued your own poiem. i didnt have to say a word.

( Posted by: elzurriago [Member] On: October 15, 2006 )

thanks i guess...
its not that i think my own poetry is bad i just think that with so many poeple writing, most probley more experienced since im so young they would probley say its bad.i want my poems to be fun and make sense, instead of waisting my time finding big words to make no sense at all.. i just thought others may not approve of how childish the whole thing really sounds... as i guess you did!?! but thanks. i guess i trapped myself into you commenting me as you did

( Posted by: grandmasgirl [Member] On: October 15, 2006 )

no thanx required
jus doin my job, critiquin poems and crackin the whip in hopes you become a better poet.

( Posted by: elzurriago [Member] On: October 15, 2006 )

Say Hi to Grandma
Writing poetry is a good thing. Going from there (you say you are young), you will want to get for yourself something that presently may be hiding in your little toe. (Try the left side first.) It is this thing that will make your poetry different from generations of pop lyrics.

Excuse me; I'm going to look for mine now.

~ John

( Posted by: Flonigus [Member] On: October 15, 2006 )

grandmasgirl
Doesn't matter if you think it is good or bad...put it out there...look at it every once in a while and make changes when the mood hits you...not even the greatest of poets wrote A number one poetry all the time...the one's you don't like can help you grow, too ...don't let anyone's comments stop you from expressing yourself...Kacee

( Posted by: Nitz Kitty [Member] On: October 16, 2006 )

completely
it's a sage thing Kacee says. expressing what's inside is the first step, just keep at it. My early poetry was much worse than this, hell, some of now poetry's not great either. long as there's heart in what you do it has a place here. go at your own pace and don't be intimidated. have fun.

Shannon.

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: October 16, 2006 )

from reverberated to reverberation
Grandma's Girl. Listen to their advice! One of my first posts here at Lit.Org went like this:

Some reverberated, even reached this age;
They flashed like windows
closing and opening before you-
Couldn't help but just have a glimpse
of what used to be,
of what used to be...

Lit.Org

Then I got more negative than positive comments for it, so for many nights I didn't rest and work on something better using the word reverberate, and I came up with this:

What used to be arn't woven dreams:
Bougainvillea wreaths in yellow and pink,
Bent broomstick bows and girl cousins
Walking in parade appear when I blink.
The easy chair and red brick road,
The apple trees and azure horizon;
Afternoon moon, meters apart
From her spouse, the sun.
Reverberation.

More rewinding of hands of time
Makes not as vivid as what is recent.
The calesa, the brown dirt path,
My unknown country, coloured yet ancient.
Some reached this age: windblown ashes
Of my soul's childhood without timeline tags;
Flashed as windows half recognised
They crowd my rear view,
ghost of me that nags.

Lit.Org

It still wasn't that good, but at least better than the first one. Don't stop writing, the critques you'll get along the way will just make you better... thank even the nastiest ones!

( Posted by: PETERPAULINO [Member] On: October 16, 2006 )





Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Commenting Guidelines:
  • All comments must be about the writing. Non-related comments will be deleted.
  • Flaming, derogatory or messages attacking other members well be deleted.
  • Adult/Sexual comments or messages will be deleted.
  • All subjects MUST be PG. No cursing in subjects.
  • All comments must follow the sites posting guidelines.
The purpose of commenting on Lit.Org is to help writers improve their writing. Please post constructive feedback to help the author improve their work.


Username:
Password:
Subject:
Comment:





Login:
Password: