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Don't Post Poetry Here!!! Talk about anything or need a shoulder to cry on? Share your thoughts and emotions here:
5/10/2011 6:12:41 PM

Sarah Hall
Posts: 4
i have written 36 poems today on here. I think im about to go blind. And im exhausted. So about to say goodnight. I hope I can fall asleep. I have difficult sleeping because I have racing thoughts due to being bipolar. Its only 911pm. Well I do enjoy it here. I wish more were in chat to chat with. I wrote a little in the workshop chat by myself and then posted it. Well inspiration my lovely poets till we meet again.

sarah
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5/15/2011 6:03:27 AM

sabu shanmughom
Posts: 1
People who never had permanent domicile, rather refuses tohave one are wanderers. They move from place to place .Their journey dependsupon the climate changes and availability of food. In their wanderings there isno success and failures, but life and death. Friction between the wanderingtribes and the corresponding governments are the same in each and everycountries ,in away or other .In Europe, the U.S, and Australia ,issues related to thesetribes remain potent political problems.

They arrive in Macondo. Macondo waits for them. They come,not empty handed. Something or other will be with them, which wasn’t familiarto the natives. Once they brought magnet, a telescope, another day a magnifyingglass…..Their visits heralded the arrival of mystery things. Where do they comefrom? No one knows. Where do they go? None knows it either. One thing iscertain. They come . They go.

This is the picture of the Gypsies who visits Macondo in theclassic novel’ One Hundred Years of Solitude’ by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. It wasthe Gypsies that brought the face of thechanging world to Maconda. Foot steps of the Gypsies are seen not only in thefictitious town Macondo, but also are seeneverywhere in the modern society.

Apart from food and clothes, shelter is yet another basicneed of human beings, which includes an address and thoughts of the country andabroad. For the Gypsies, shelter means only a place to stay; any place isconsidered a shelter and a temporary camp.
.Like migratory birds, they travel through the banks ofculture that teach mother and mother land are precious than heaven.

Even before the existence of hard and fast rules regardingnational boundaries and civilized nations, these wandering tribes journeyedfrom one continent to another. Those who aimedonly food and those targeted more than that were among them.

Some built their own nation. Some recaptured their land fromthe enemies. Some triumphed over the neighbouring nations and expanded theirterritories…..While all of them took their victory lap through the royal roadof history, unmindful of these the wanderers also moved along this road, their great journey continues unhindered.

Though rooted in safety, of all kinds, we live in anxiety;while in the roadside kitchen of the gypsies, the rice boils….Their childrensleeps in the makeshift cradle in a nearby tree. They are in sound sleep. Lifeis a knapsack for them, weightless knapsacks. And they go on filling up themaps, and the Earth by their travelroutes.
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5/15/2011 2:15:35 PM

julie heckman
Posts: 17
Hello there...I am with you on the "chat room" I've tried a few times to bring some life into the thing
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