Our mission is to gather together a vast and diverse community of peers, aspiring writers and artists to offer the most interactive forum on Myspace for writers.
A place where writers can offer honest and friendly criticism to those in need. We will host workshops to teach and learn together, host improvisational poetry games and battles as well as the funnest challenges and competitions around with anonymous entries. NO POPULARITY CONTESTS! A virtual stomping ground for the enlightened. All are welcome. This is not a hierarchy.
We have searched for a comfortable writing community all throughout Myspace and there just aren't any designed for our generation. We're fed up! It is time for a new generation to usher the way for our advancement. We will no longer idolize a leader. Come join your peers. We can learn from one another. It is your right to choose, and all feedback is welcome to improve the quality of life here at Wordplay Workshop.
Bring your friends. Battle MCs, poets, writers, rappers, lyricists, anyone interested in this project. If you're into Wordplay we are into you.
Here is a beautiful Workshop dedication from Poet1978
An Ode to Wordplay Workshop
You challenge me
To paint with words
To create poetry
The likes of which
I have never attempted before
Through you I found sonnets
And driving ambition
You now fuel my creation
All for the love of art
The beauty of words
The way they flow
And capture such emotion
You ask not for glory
Or riches
Just for words
Poetic freedom
You undertake
A labour of love
And share such desire
To all who come
Poetry is beauty
Beauty is poetry
You set forth
Challenge after challenge
To test the poetic mind
Wordplay
Poetry
And all for free
I am humble
As I now say
Thank you
For inspiring me
This land of the brave
Where artist's come baring soul
Finding a need, filling a hole.
Exposure's pain before sweet release,
With clever hand reveal
Words to make you feel,
To cry, wince, laugh or *sigh*
With a glimpse in to a world
Whether word, photo or canvas unfurled...
Taking you to a place
Not unlike your own
Reaping consequences of actions sown
Relating hopes, fears, laughter, tears
That we all might see
And with the knowledge, be set free...
That we are not alone.
Here is a Thank you gift to the Wordplay Workshop from our very own ~FELiX~
Poetic License
The gracious observations of a fully loaded pen.
The care and understanding of the anecdotes we lend.
The children of Tchaikovsky and Shakespearean lament.
The sword is always lesser than the beauty of the pen.
The educated instincts of an idiot savant.
The carousel of metaphors when Paradise is Lost.
The Animals that rule the Farm and Things that Fall Apart.
The ink that hits the page will last a lifetime in our hearts.
We want to be the introductions, covers, and the spines.
We want to be the paragraphs, and grammar in the lines.
We want to be the black and white you read from every night.
The right to play with every word is every writer's rite.
Submit your audio poetry to appear in this podcast.
wordplayworkshop@yahoo.com
Browse here for our brave audio poets. These are their links. Go visit...
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this folk-carol on myspace... Poem 230 of 230, WalkaboutsVerse (see my blog for details): CHRISTMAS SUNG SIMPLY
As gospellers have said, Beneath signalling skies, On land dusty to tread, A trough in a stable Was the strawy first-bed Of a divine baby - The forgiving Godhead.
A season for new hope - There then and here now; The yuletide of goodwill - There then and here now.
In respect of this chance, Beneath bright or dark skies, Faith's the star that we glance Attending Christ's churches And trying to enhance, With singing and ritual, Our God-loving stance.
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this poem sung on myspace...
Poem 162 of 230, WalkaboutsVerse (please see my blog): TEES TO TYNE: FIRST IMPRESSIONS - SUMMER 2001
Where traditions are not so rare; Sea, country and works scent the air; A multitude of monuments, Planted tubs and patterned pavements.
The longish pedestrian malls; The remnants of defensive walls; Historic buildings are a gauge Of the respect for heritage.
Wheat, rape and pines in the fields; Estuaries guarded by shields; Long sandy beaches and wide scenes; Romantic-ruin go-betweens.
Rivers in parts licked by trees, Or fringed by boat clubs, wharfs, gantries, And crossed by practical delights - Varied spans, forming pleasing sights.
Fine churches headed at Durham; Football kits ad infinitum; Kept castles - one for study; Masonry behind masonry.
And, with moulding-works out that way, It’s somewhere for a longer stay..?
Thanks for allowing this shameless self promotion! SUPPORT YOUR INDEPENDENT STORYTELLERS and POETS BUY ORIGINAL! THANK YOU for LISTENING and BUYING choose a selection below to LISTEN and PURCHASE! LONG LIVE the WORDS!
"I get by with a little help from my friends." - John Lennon
Hey there. I'm not on here all that much, so if you want to keep in touh please feel free to hit me up on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/thomasjfox. Be well and I hope you are enjoying the summer.
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this poem sung on myspace...
Poem 2 of 230, WalkaboutsVerse (please see my blog): WALKABOUT WITH MY PEN
Once drove an old sedan, up north, From a place in Sydney to Cairns; Then to Kuranda I went forth, By train, to look without set plans.
I browsed through the trendy market, With fresh fruits of tropical kind; Walked to the creek through lush thicket - Nature’s hand giving peace of mind.
I dined in a scenic cafe; Then, outside, as I wrote for yen, Some passing Kooris called-out: “Hey, You go walkabout with your pen.”
Request or question, I don’t know - Assured voices, elderly men. That’s now several years ago, And I’ve seen the world - with my pen.
Taste the light amber of honey glowing within fairies spreading star dust reflections gentle in wonder, send me to answer her molten lake of secrets unfolding. In these whispers of garden sight I see her winking with firefly lashes. Her eyes emeralds green in ache teased by the mystic place masterfully eternal enchanting the spell bound dark flower. Her gliding wings flirting slippery in dizzy romance to a visitor of celestial streams falling together face upon face. What heat forming mars turns the fighting shrew loose upon the ravens cry while the dove so frail feels with awe. She sings so I must hear her song of echoes deep from strawberry blush covered lips swelling to the drifting edges of once more. Her mockingbird laugh betrays the rebel yell under attack falling in tides shored near love and why under the moon dance limitless with such release enraged far from pain embracing? Challenged, the starwinged adventurer unleashed cavernous storms with her body moving in more than tales of kissing light. Her taste of fate whistling to the corners of rainbow archways come begging love gold and delightful in a weary potion dipped by fingers of hunger. What sight I see in silver glances brushed by and by imitating angels wings yet stubborn never lifting her veil of night. Image of ecstacy dancing as dreamers drunk in beauty laid in service to sacrifice upon the alter of touching rumor. Caterpillars turned butterflies sit with her alone feeding grapes starving for the designed feast of his riddled sight. Their whispering words composed in paints slipping to venus her bed. Together on the bare bones of a mornings window weeping joyful tears in a blue haze to beckon more magic from a fairies magical gaze, these are sacred ways and no more are the empty moments as hearts falling to pieces. Bring forth the radiant feathered crown and the sword to serenade mortals who fear so much. Branded consuming morsels her spell never ceases. Merciful is freedom held ransom to drea
Mother Earth, thank you for this life I now share with others. I understand your teachings are to guide my strength and to spread the heart of love to all I encounter. I have indeed listened to your message and witnessed truth by your own walk in beauty. Your nature is not taken for granted by my sight or by my means to life. I have found by your song life that there is No greater gift to be found within myself, than to be thankful to my own higher power for the journies your voice of nature has led me by abilities to dwell upon this Sacred Ground I share. It is our choice to take the path for the Greater good but, more than that, it is our ultimate responsibility to protect Our Mother Earth and all that dwells upon Her. All Love all ways, Kicking Bear Barry The Eccentric Poet http://kicking-bear-barry.fineartamerica.com/
