Rate the Last Poem Above You

I know that I’m not the first one to come up with this game idea, but I think it would be fun for me to reintroduced this back. So the following is simple:

  1. You rate the last poem that is above you.

  2. Rate from 0 (you really hate it) to 10 (you really love it).

  3. You can add additional critics, but make sure that you are being polite and constructive in your criticism.

  4. Do NOT post links or self-promote.

  5. Have fun and enjoy!

So here is mine to start with:

My heart is like an ocean
That used to breathe out love
And sings out of innocence
As the palm trees heard it from the cove.

My soul is like a sea
Where the fish used to play,
And the turtles see
The pristine view all day

Others may not care about me,
But I had only joy within me.
Yet when they do care about me,
They only want me to feel “happy.”

They sail on top of me,
Sprinkling plastic glitters
And paper confettis
Without any guilt.

They drink oil cocktails,
Pouring greasy champagne
On me as they trail,
Not knowing my pain.

When the party is all over,
I am left with this clutter.
I die a little more day by day
As the fish are gone one by one.

My heart is now like an ocean
That is filled with fear
And subdued by worldly notions,
As no one want to listen to my tears.

My soul is now like a sea
Where garbage swims
And everyone gets to see
The pollution within.


8 here is mine (it’s a song)

Verse 1: I know I’m late to say goodbye

I know I should have said a lot of things

lost in your head I should’ve known

seen the signs, should’ve helped the night

Pre-chorus: you took your own life

Chorus: I should’ve said that no one blames you

that’s useless now, still, it’s true

I don’t blame you for what you did

I’ve tried too

Verse 2: I miss you

Life is not the same

it’s hard to even say your name

it’s too easy to take the blame

Pre-chorus: you took your own life

Chorus: I should’ve said that no one blames you

that’s useless now, still, it’s true

I don’t blame you for what you did

I’ve tried too

Bridge: I’m sorry

You can’t hear me anymore

I love you

Chorus: I should’ve said that no one blames you

that’s useless now, still, it’s true

I don’t blame you for what you did

I’ve tried too

1 Like

6/10. Overall it’s pretty nice and I can sense the sadness and emotion you’re trying to convey but I feel it’s a little confusing in how I can’t get a clear understanding of the story told in it since the words are so simple. But it is good! Well done, I actually like it despite of that minor criticism! :smiley:

Here is one of my very short poems:

I wish the water would wash away
the toxic parts of
my personality
It does not.
It does not reach the
dirty parts of my soul
the water only glides
along my blemished skin
unknowing of what lies beneath.


10+/10 - I would give it a more than ten, because it’s beautiful and deep and I can relate to it. :blue_heart: I especially love how soft yet hard it can be… that sounds weird… let me give an example.

This has a more harsh feel to it especially with the consonants… ‘toxic’ and the short ‘it does not’ line really contrasts well later on with the longer lines.

The part about water really links up the whole poem, providing a fluid imagery of the water flowing, linking back nicely to words about personality, blemished skin and soul. It is touching as I can connect with the poem, showing that it’s quite personal and the beauty of this poem is enhanced by your unique style… I love it because it just sounds, looks and ‘feels’ so natural and yet it contains deep meanings. Keep it up! :blue_heart: :blue_heart: :blue_heart: Welp… I don’t want to look bad next to your poem so I’ll post one that’s not mine XD Jokes, my poems just aren’t that good to be broadcasted XD Here’s one that I love and makes me sniffle(it’s long)…

Ballad of Birmingham written by Dudley Randall
(On the bombing of a church in Birmingham, Alabama, 1963)

“Mother dear, may I go downtown
Instead of out to play,
And march the streets of Birmingham
In a Freedom March today?”

“No, baby, no, you may not go,
For the dogs are fierce and wild,
And clubs and hoses, guns and jails
Aren’t good for a little child.”

“But, mother, I won’t be alone.
Other children will go with me,
And march the streets of Birmingham
To make our country free.”

“No, baby, no, you may not go,
For I fear those guns will fire.
But you may go to church instead
And sing in the children’s choir.”

She has combed and brushed her night-dark hair,
And bathed rose petal sweet,
And drawn white gloves on her small brown hands,
And white shoes on her feet.

The mother smiled to know her child
Was in the sacred place,
But that smile was the last smile
To come upon her face.

For when she heard the explosion,
Her eyes grew wet and wild.
She raced through the streets of Birmingham
Calling for her child.

She clawed through bits of glass and brick,
Then lifted out a shoe.
“O, here’s the shoe my baby wore,
But, baby, where are you?”


9/10 This is really a sad, but also lovely poem. Especially in the following:

The dialogue is also well written as well.

Here is a random poem of mine:

I doubt there is anyone
Who are willing to
Hold on to my hand
When I am falling down.
I doubt there is anyone
Who would stand up for me.

I doubt that any of my friends
Are willing to fight for me
When my strength is almost gone,
When my spirit is nearly done.
I doubt that any of my friends

Would want to stay by my side
I doubt that the world
Would even care about me
And all of my struggles
As long as I smile.

I doubt that my family
Would love me
For who I truly am,
Not for what I have done.
I doubt that my family
Would understand my pain.

But I believe that you
Love me no matter what
And would die for me,
A favor I do not deserve.

1 Like

9/10 This is from the marrow. I felt it touch my bones. There is a overwhelming sadness right to the end. Even when things at the very end turn for the poet, the end line gets you.

This is a poem about what it’s like to write at times.

Slate slashes against the parchment / anger presses into paper / sharp, unforgiving marks left behind / explosive thoughts / damning words / my hand stills / blood is what’s seen / slate is what’s read.


I would rate it…7 / 10 I like how you using short phrases instead of long complex sentences.

Here’s a poem about gender dysphoria

On any normal day, I wake up
Get ready for today
I look in the mirror
And I have nothing good to say
About myself
Because my chest isn’t flat at all
And my voice is way too high
My face is too round
And I am way too curvy for my own good
These thought mainly come from
My dysphoric state of mind
and it would be great
if just for one day
i could just be happy with who I am
And not hate myself
because my mind and my body can’t be the same

1 Like

7/10 I like how you describe gender dysphoria and what it could possibly be like to one person. However, it seems like you lack punctuation, so adding commas and periods can make this poem better. Overall, it’s a great poem.

Here is a poem that I recently wrote:

A shadow am I,
Loitering around in loneliness.
I can see everyone with my eyes,
But no one seems to care about my sadness.

Some are shining like the sun,
Some are waltzing in love,
And many others are enjoying the fun,
But not me who is struggling with life.

Some tell me to get rid of myself,
Saying that I am a product of their shames.
They take credit for all the good I had done for themselves
But they blamed me when I fail to do the same.

A shadow am I,
Slowly fading in the fog of lies.


11.5/10 All I can say is, it brought a tear in my eye.

Here’s mine!!

Blood is written on those who want change.

This is humanity’s greatest pain.

Baring arms against another, this is not the way to treat our brothers.

Have we lost our hearts?

The world suffers because we differ apart.

Love is the only way, yet others prefer to pass and stray.

Such is the mind, this is the reasons change is not made.

Let us begin anew with our words.

Remind each other of who we were as we shall truly love and move to a greater forward.


i like this one very motivational 8/10 (i had to read the last sentence a couple times)

here’s mine:

Mr. Moon Cat
(sung in the tune Mr. Sandman*)

Mr. Moon Cat
Bring me a moon
no, no, no
that’s a pancake, you goon*

it’s kinda short

9/10 I found it kind of funny and sweet.

Businesspeople, I’ve found, will most likely wear fancy dress shoes or high heels.
I, personally, don’t understand it.
Sure, the shoes may look nice, but they’re far too uncomfortable to enjoy wearing for a long time.
I guess they get used to it after a while.

Most of the people I see may wear tennis shoes or sneakers, some newer and nicer than others.
Those shoes could be dressy, or not.
Most are sturdy, however;
always works for a nation that never stops.

Some will wear house shoes.
Modest would be the best word to describe them. And comfortable.
Comfortable with everything around them.

Kids just like showing off, I suppose.
All I ever seem to see them wear are shiny, brightly colored shoes that can light up or are covered in glitter or their favorite TV show characters at the moment.
All they ever seem to say is ‘Hey! Look at me! Aren’t I cool?’
Always looking for attention, because they believe they’re special. Because we tell them that.
They’ll outgrow the sentiment eventually; just like I outgrew it years ago.

The shoes I normally wear are getting old and wearing down.
The color’s faded and the laces are dirty because I never can keep them tied.
Sometimes…I wonder…

What would it be like to walk a mile in others’ shoes?
The businesspeople, the movers, the loungers, the children.

And…would anyone want to walk a mile in mine?

Yeah, I’m not a poet.

1 Like

6/10 I liked the topic and that’s lengthy but it seems less like a poem and more like an extract.

Misfortunes of the numb, troubled soul
that lonely wanders into the unknown.

Zero memories of the before,
Sorrows drowning her to the core.
Troubles led by lazy fate,
Drawn by monsters that her await,

Secrets harder, harder, harder to keep,
Misery robbing her non-existent sleep

Escape found in the deep scary mist,
promising to make her soul cease to exist.

Feelings that to her no longer belong,
Swept by her river- it cold and long.
Feelings that she can no longer see,
she whose eyes happiness no longer meet.