can someone help me please

[Hope]

I need to know where these poems are from?
Oh gentle winds 'neath moonlit skies,
Do not you hear my heartfelt cries?
Below the branches, here about,
Do not you sense my fear and doubt?
Side glistening rivers, sparkling streams,
Do not you hear my woeful screams?
Upon the meadows, touched with dew,
Do not you see my hearts a'skew?
Beneath the thousand twinkling stars,
Do not you feel my jagged scars?
Seek not my mournful heart kind breeze,
For you'll not find it 'mongst these trees.
It's scattered 'cross the moonlit skies,
Accompanied by heartfelt sighs.
It's drifting o're the gentle rain,
A symbol of my silent pain.
It's buried 'neath the meadow fair,
Conjoined with all the sorrow there.
It's lost among the stars this night,
Too far to ease my quiet fright.
No gentle winds, seek not my heart,
For simply ... it has torn apart.



I will never forget the days we once had
The days when you were everything to me
My mind used to tell me we'd be together forever
But now I realize that was all a big dream
The feelings I have for you will never go
I wish I could take back that one regretful day
The day when I willingly let you slide from my arms
Never did I think of the astonishing pain of regrets
That I would once have to live through
The sight of you in someone else's arms
Makes my heart shatter into a million pieces
I sometimes wonder if you still think of me
Or if to you, I'm just a face in the crowd
I wish so very much that one day we can have it all back
But for now, I'll sit here silently
Remembering all the memories we once shared
Everyday my love grows much stronger
Hoping that one day you will feel the same
And put back the pieces of my broken heart.



A broken heart
torn by your hands
A sweet face
ruined by your kisses
A gentle body
that never wants to be touched again
A mind shattered
by your caring words
A life devastated
when you left without looking back
A strong person
that will never love someone like u again

[Hope]

I have someone in my forum who wrote these and said they were hers but we already caught her using someone elses poems already from a book called chicken soup for the teenage soul and taste berries for teens so are these poems coming from the same book?because i dont like the fact that she is taking someone elses work and saying it is hers!

[mono]

I performed some searching around, I found the first, that begins,

"Oh gentle winds 'neath moonlit skies,
Do not you hear my heartfelt cries? . . ."

A work called "Seek Not My Heart" by Kit McCallum.
The second one, that begins,

"I will never forget the days we once had
The days when you were everything to me . . ."

A poem called "Broken Heart" by Crystal Holtz.
I could find nothing regarding the third poem, but I hope this helps. Good luck!

[Hope]

I performed some searching around, I found the first, that begins,

"Oh gentle winds 'neath moonlit skies,
Do not you hear my heartfelt cries? . . ."

A work called "Seek Not My Heart" by Kit McCallum.
The second one, that begins,

"I will never forget the days we once had
The days when you were everything to me . . ."

A poem called "Broken Heart" by Crystal Holtz.
I could find nothing regarding the third poem, but I hope this helps. Good luck!
Thankyou so much

[Hope]

OK WHAT ABOUT THIS ONE:
Life is a prison,
Oh God let me out.
No one to listen,
To hear when you shout.

Climb the walls of insanity,
Ride the waves of despair.
If you fall it don't matter,
There's no one to care.

Used to wish for a window,
To see birds, trees and sky,
But you're better without one -
Stops you aiming too high.

Watching freedom is painful,
For those locked away.
Seeing joy, love and happiness,
Another price that you pay.

Strong is good, weak is bad.
Be it false, be it true.
Your mind makes the choice,
And enforces it too.

Cell walls built by society,
With rules to adhere.
If you breach the acceptable,
You had better beware.

Hide the pain, carry on,
Routine is the key.
Don't let on that you're not,
What you're pretending to be.

Lock it all up inside you,
How badly that bodes.
Look out for that one day,
When it all just explodes.

[Hope]

And this one:
Although you are a friend of mine
and letters we exchange,
I wouldn't know you on the street,
and doesn't that seem strange?

You hold a place within my life,
unusual and unique;
We share ideals and special dreams,
and still, we do not speak.

I picture what I think you are,
perhaps you picture me.
An intriguing game for both of us
for someone we can't see.

So for this friendship we possess,
we owe this mail a debt,
Perhaps the charm lies in the fact
that we have never met.

[trismegistus]

I don't wish to seem callous, but does it matter about the other poems, Hope? Clearly the writer is a plagiarist. Seems to me you should work under the assumption that everything she submits is not her own, and treat her accordingly.

[mono]

For the two most recent poems, Hope, I performed a search on google.com of the first lines, because I have read neither of them before. The work that begins,

"Life is a prison,
Oh God let me out."

is by someone only known as "Puff."
The other work that begins,

"Although you are a friend of mine
and letters we exchange,"

is by someone known as "Iceman."
I have no idea whether the names are real or just nicknames, but your "friend" seems very untrusting; plagiarism can never have justification. Good luck!

[den]

:crash: boo hiss, plagiarism badbad!

I knew someone recently passing off someone else's blog writings as their own, in their own blog, how lame is that? :rolleyes:

[amuse]

yerch! tacky tacky. this chick needs to read, develop a style of her own, and stay the h*** away from other people's poetry. she's not doing herself any favors here. poor girl.

[Scheherazade]

Hey Den, can you please use a bigger font please? It is troubling my aging eyes :(

[Taliesin]

:crash: boo hiss, plagiarism badbad!

I knew someone recently passing off someone else's blog writings as their own, in their own blog, how lame is that? :rolleyes:


Hmmm...., I think that that would be about 29,9 lameters. (who was the guy who said that we should measure everything?)

Ahh, all this reminds me of a joke.

A young author sends a publisher a script of a novel.
The publisher calls him.
"Did you really write this novel yourself?"
"Why, of course."
"Then I am delighted to meet you, Mr Edgar Allan Poe. Strangely enough, I thought that you died a long time ago."

[DustBowlPoetry]

I don't wish to seem callous, but does it matter about the other poems, Hope? Clearly the writer is a plagiarist. Seems to me you should work under the assumption that everything she submits is not her own, and treat her accordingly.

Well said.