Poems About Life As A Writer Seeking Honest Critique
#LifeAsAWriter
Virtual Thrills
I'm no stranger
to controversy
So this might appear
a bit misleading
I get my excitement
Somewhere but not here
When I arrived it was to write
Call me a snob if you will
I want friends
Not virtual thrills
to controversy
So this might appear
a bit misleading
I get my excitement
Somewhere but not here
When I arrived it was to write
Call me a snob if you will
I want friends
Not virtual thrills
#LifeAsAWriter
#relationships
#WritingPoetry
36 reads
4 Comments
move like water
aquamarine waves
tremble against roaring shore
white shells shine like stars
tremble against roaring shore
white shells shine like stars
#beach
#LifeAsAWriter
#love
#nature
#water
26 reads
1 Comment
Go
Which direction should you go?
Your inner compass spins with no destination
Four walls
No key
No door
Silence
It's too loud.
Too audible
Go
Take a step.
Lead
Don’t follow
You are the arrow
Create the destination
At the end
A new beginning
Go!
Your inner compass spins with no destination
Four walls
No key
No door
Silence
It's too loud.
Too audible
Go
Take a step.
Lead
Don’t follow
You are the arrow
Create the destination
At the end
A new beginning
Go!
#LifeAsAWriter
#LifeStruggles
46 reads
4 Comments
Lost In Writers World
I am just where I belong
Lost in this writer's world
Waiting for each line
To unfurl upon this paper
Blank no more
For me you are
An inspiration
Words that spill
Dressed in perspiration
Meant to tantalize
For sure
Captivate and
So much more
Lost in this writer's world
Waiting for each line
To unfurl upon this paper
Blank no more
For me you are
An inspiration
Words that spill
Dressed in perspiration
Meant to tantalize
For sure
Captivate and
So much more
#LifeAsAWriter
#passion
55 reads
13 Comments
Poetry wipeout
(Note from author: Oh dear, my keyboard seemed to be broken when I wrote this. Most of the keys appeared to have given up, so I had to restrict myself to the top row of keys. Sorry about that.)
O, typewriter!
Y, typewriter?
Y, O Y?!
I, poet, require wit.
Keyboard quit;
top tier type =
quite poor repertoire.
I wept.
Ropy torture!
Pouty ire!
I require wittier poetry.
Pity poor poet;
utter pretty quip.
You write trite type.
I report trope.
You retort, "write your...
O, typewriter!
Y, typewriter?
Y, O Y?!
I, poet, require wit.
Keyboard quit;
top tier type =
quite poor repertoire.
I wept.
Ropy torture!
Pouty ire!
I require wittier poetry.
Pity poor poet;
utter pretty quip.
You write trite type.
I report trope.
You retort, "write your...
#funny
#LifeAsAWriter
#NaPoWriMo2024 #WritingPoetry
#NaPoWriMo2024 #WritingPoetry
70 reads
9 Comments
She believed everything I said
I took her up to the roof and told her she could fly because I asked God to grant her a special aviator's license.
Did you ever hear of something so goddamn stupid?
She did it
She fell like a fucking stone
Pretty stupid, even for a girl that was an amazing poet!
She was on this site from time to time
Did you ever hear of something so goddamn stupid?
She did it
She fell like a fucking stone
Pretty stupid, even for a girl that was an amazing poet!
She was on this site from time to time
#God
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry #ignorance
#WritingPoetry #ignorance
86 reads
19 Comments
Do that thing
They said
“come and do that thing you do,
not so young man”
And I stare blankly into my own mind for a moment
And try to figure out what that thing is while my fingers remember that they have done something in the way that they ache in a cool mid spring morning, wrapped around a red bull, the big can.
While my breath tries to remember in a wet-ish wheeze the things it may or may not have said. Always on the verge of a cough.
While my thoughts try to remember what they were thinking of before the ominous countdown toward forgetting what they were doing on a cool...
“come and do that thing you do,
not so young man”
And I stare blankly into my own mind for a moment
And try to figure out what that thing is while my fingers remember that they have done something in the way that they ache in a cool mid spring morning, wrapped around a red bull, the big can.
While my breath tries to remember in a wet-ish wheeze the things it may or may not have said. Always on the verge of a cough.
While my thoughts try to remember what they were thinking of before the ominous countdown toward forgetting what they were doing on a cool...
#LifeAsAWriter
#aging
38 reads
0 Comments
Hymn to Words
In dim lit corners
of whisky-soaked nights
she stood in a stained nightdress
stuffing prayers into wounds
she ran
nimble fingers though matted hair
opened up a throat
allowed grief to splutter out from lungs
that choked on midnight’s breath
she stared—
placed her hand on a weary chest
counted irregular beats
found God in the exhale
amongst limitless space
she came without warning
on a barren winter’s eve
...
of whisky-soaked nights
she stood in a stained nightdress
stuffing prayers into wounds
she ran
nimble fingers though matted hair
opened up a throat
allowed grief to splutter out from lungs
that choked on midnight’s breath
she stared—
placed her hand on a weary chest
counted irregular beats
found God in the exhale
amongst limitless space
she came without warning
on a barren winter’s eve
...
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry
#pagan
84 reads
7 Comments
Contentment
Here I lay content
I took mine happy pills
Neither highs nor lows ‘no emotions
From which to feel, to grip or write
Becomin numb,
With little care, and strange vagueness’s of time;
I see no more beauty in a darken place
I see no more strange horrors of love,
I only see obligations & my duties.
Becoming socially acceptable,
When the artist in me dies
I took mine happy pills
Neither highs nor lows ‘no emotions
From which to feel, to grip or write
Becomin numb,
With little care, and strange vagueness’s of time;
I see no more beauty in a darken place
I see no more strange horrors of love,
I only see obligations & my duties.
Becoming socially acceptable,
When the artist in me dies
#LifeAsAWriter
114 reads
13 Comments
In Search of...
Forgiveness
The path was clear yet darkened in fear
My destination obscured in mystery
Knowing the truth would set me free
I was unsure if I would embrace honesty
Now I see it is the only way to be
When contemplating the creation of poetry
Fore had I never confessed my duplicity
None of my verse would be worth
The canvas where my heart spilled the flow of my soul
Her forgiveness enlighted the shadows ahead
Making the road never traveled before
The only course to follow to expose the inner me
The path was clear yet darkened in fear
My destination obscured in mystery
Knowing the truth would set me free
I was unsure if I would embrace honesty
Now I see it is the only way to be
When contemplating the creation of poetry
Fore had I never confessed my duplicity
None of my verse would be worth
The canvas where my heart spilled the flow of my soul
Her forgiveness enlighted the shadows ahead
Making the road never traveled before
The only course to follow to expose the inner me
#forgiveness
#peace
#LifeAsAWriter
#gratitude
#art
84 reads
5 Comments
Heard
I couldn't speak
I didn't dare
For there was
Tension everywhere
So, instead
I poured all
My pain onto paper
Put my ego
To one side
With each word
Filled with satisfaction
Now that I've been heard
I didn't dare
For there was
Tension everywhere
So, instead
I poured all
My pain onto paper
Put my ego
To one side
With each word
Filled with satisfaction
Now that I've been heard
#confessional
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry
60 reads
12 Comments
he says, what have I done ..
he writes for money
firstly begging letters, and then some rather seedy journalism,
and eventually,
a few pornographic pieces for
the less
discerning papers and,
as his circulation increases,
he thinks, is this what I intended
when I was young ..
firstly begging letters, and then some rather seedy journalism,
and eventually,
a few pornographic pieces for
the less
discerning papers and,
as his circulation increases,
he thinks, is this what I intended
when I was young ..
#LifeAsAWriter
68 reads
8 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Life As A Writer Seeking Honest Critique