Poems About Life As A Writer Published by Members Recently Online
#LifeAsAWriter
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Daniel Long
Poem Published
2nd Feb 2025 2:50pm
2nd Feb 2025 2:50pm
My Poetic Knife
Resting restlessly within the dark of its sheath,
my poetic knife feels expressionless.
When so, it wants to be drawn
and plundered into the white of the page.
Then it wants to cut through the emptiness
and carve out beautiful metaphors.
The blade will glint in the light of an idea
and will be drenched in the ink of words.
my poetic knife feels expressionless.
When so, it wants to be drawn
and plundered into the white of the page.
Then it wants to cut through the emptiness
and carve out beautiful metaphors.
The blade will glint in the light of an idea
and will be drenched in the ink of words.
#LifeAsAWriter
#MentalHealth
#metaphor
#surreal
#WritingPoetry
154 reads
0 Comments
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Daniel Long
Poem Published
2nd Feb 2025 2:50pm
2nd Feb 2025 2:50pm
My Poetic Knife
Resting restlessly within the dark of its sheath,
my poetic knife feels expressionless.
When so, it wants to be drawn
and plundered into the white of the page.
Then it wants to cut through the emptiness
and carve out beautiful metaphors.
The blade will glint in the light of an idea
and will be drenched in the ink of words.
my poetic knife feels expressionless.
When so, it wants to be drawn
and plundered into the white of the page.
Then it wants to cut through the emptiness
and carve out beautiful metaphors.
The blade will glint in the light of an idea
and will be drenched in the ink of words.
#LifeAsAWriter
#MentalHealth
#metaphor
#surreal
#WritingPoetry
154 reads
0 Comments
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Daniel Long
Poem Published
2nd Feb 2025 2:50pm
2nd Feb 2025 2:50pm
My Poetic Knife
Resting restlessly within the dark of its sheath,
my poetic knife feels expressionless.
When so, it wants to be drawn
and plundered into the white of the page.
Then it wants to cut through the emptiness
and carve out beautiful metaphors.
The blade will glint in the light of an idea
and will be drenched in the ink of words.
my poetic knife feels expressionless.
When so, it wants to be drawn
and plundered into the white of the page.
Then it wants to cut through the emptiness
and carve out beautiful metaphors.
The blade will glint in the light of an idea
and will be drenched in the ink of words.
#LifeAsAWriter
#MentalHealth
#metaphor
#surreal
#WritingPoetry
154 reads
0 Comments
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Daniel Long
Poem Published
2nd Feb 2025 2:50pm
2nd Feb 2025 2:50pm
My Poetic Knife
Resting restlessly within the dark of its sheath,
my poetic knife feels expressionless.
When so, it wants to be drawn
and plundered into the white of the page.
Then it wants to cut through the emptiness
and carve out beautiful metaphors.
The blade will glint in the light of an idea
and will be drenched in the ink of words.
my poetic knife feels expressionless.
When so, it wants to be drawn
and plundered into the white of the page.
Then it wants to cut through the emptiness
and carve out beautiful metaphors.
The blade will glint in the light of an idea
and will be drenched in the ink of words.
#LifeAsAWriter
#MentalHealth
#metaphor
#surreal
#WritingPoetry
154 reads
0 Comments
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Daniel Long
Poem Published
2nd Feb 2025 2:50pm
2nd Feb 2025 2:50pm
My Poetic Knife
Resting restlessly within the dark of its sheath,
my poetic knife feels expressionless.
When so, it wants to be drawn
and plundered into the white of the page.
Then it wants to cut through the emptiness
and carve out beautiful metaphors.
The blade will glint in the light of an idea
and will be drenched in the ink of words.
my poetic knife feels expressionless.
When so, it wants to be drawn
and plundered into the white of the page.
Then it wants to cut through the emptiness
and carve out beautiful metaphors.
The blade will glint in the light of an idea
and will be drenched in the ink of words.
#LifeAsAWriter
#MentalHealth
#metaphor
#surreal
#WritingPoetry
154 reads
0 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
13th Apr 2025 6:12pm
13th Apr 2025 6:12pm
Channeling Shadows
In the dim-lit chamber, the air grows thin.
The psychographer draws the specter in.
Quill in hand, trembling, eager to scribe.
Echoes of Poe dark whispers imbibe.
The raven stirs, though fleshless it stays.
Its shadow looms eternal in haze.
"Speak," pleads the vessel, a soul unwinded.
Through fingertips flows the long-silenced mind.
Words spill forth, grotesque and divine.
Lines of sorrow, of death’s cold design.
Each phrase etched in despair’s black tongue.
An ode to the lost, the morbid unsung.
...
The psychographer draws the specter in.
Quill in hand, trembling, eager to scribe.
Echoes of Poe dark whispers imbibe.
The raven stirs, though fleshless it stays.
Its shadow looms eternal in haze.
"Speak," pleads the vessel, a soul unwinded.
Through fingertips flows the long-silenced mind.
Words spill forth, grotesque and divine.
Lines of sorrow, of death’s cold design.
Each phrase etched in despair’s black tongue.
An ode to the lost, the morbid unsung.
...
#EdgarAllanPoe
#LifeAsAWriter
#love
#obsession
#spiritual
73 reads
6 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
13th Apr 2025 6:12pm
13th Apr 2025 6:12pm
Channeling Shadows
In the dim-lit chamber, the air grows thin.
The psychographer draws the specter in.
Quill in hand, trembling, eager to scribe.
Echoes of Poe dark whispers imbibe.
The raven stirs, though fleshless it stays.
Its shadow looms eternal in haze.
"Speak," pleads the vessel, a soul unwinded.
Through fingertips flows the long-silenced mind.
Words spill forth, grotesque and divine.
Lines of sorrow, of death’s cold design.
Each phrase etched in despair’s black tongue.
An ode to the lost, the morbid unsung.
...
The psychographer draws the specter in.
Quill in hand, trembling, eager to scribe.
Echoes of Poe dark whispers imbibe.
The raven stirs, though fleshless it stays.
Its shadow looms eternal in haze.
"Speak," pleads the vessel, a soul unwinded.
Through fingertips flows the long-silenced mind.
Words spill forth, grotesque and divine.
Lines of sorrow, of death’s cold design.
Each phrase etched in despair’s black tongue.
An ode to the lost, the morbid unsung.
...
#EdgarAllanPoe
#LifeAsAWriter
#love
#obsession
#spiritual
73 reads
6 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
13th Apr 2025 6:12pm
13th Apr 2025 6:12pm
Channeling Shadows
In the dim-lit chamber, the air grows thin.
The psychographer draws the specter in.
Quill in hand, trembling, eager to scribe.
Echoes of Poe dark whispers imbibe.
The raven stirs, though fleshless it stays.
Its shadow looms eternal in haze.
"Speak," pleads the vessel, a soul unwinded.
Through fingertips flows the long-silenced mind.
Words spill forth, grotesque and divine.
Lines of sorrow, of death’s cold design.
Each phrase etched in despair’s black tongue.
An ode to the lost, the morbid unsung.
...
The psychographer draws the specter in.
Quill in hand, trembling, eager to scribe.
Echoes of Poe dark whispers imbibe.
The raven stirs, though fleshless it stays.
Its shadow looms eternal in haze.
"Speak," pleads the vessel, a soul unwinded.
Through fingertips flows the long-silenced mind.
Words spill forth, grotesque and divine.
Lines of sorrow, of death’s cold design.
Each phrase etched in despair’s black tongue.
An ode to the lost, the morbid unsung.
...
#EdgarAllanPoe
#LifeAsAWriter
#love
#obsession
#spiritual
73 reads
6 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
13th Apr 2025 6:12pm
13th Apr 2025 6:12pm
Channeling Shadows
In the dim-lit chamber, the air grows thin.
The psychographer draws the specter in.
Quill in hand, trembling, eager to scribe.
Echoes of Poe dark whispers imbibe.
The raven stirs, though fleshless it stays.
Its shadow looms eternal in haze.
"Speak," pleads the vessel, a soul unwinded.
Through fingertips flows the long-silenced mind.
Words spill forth, grotesque and divine.
Lines of sorrow, of death’s cold design.
Each phrase etched in despair’s black tongue.
An ode to the lost, the morbid unsung.
...
The psychographer draws the specter in.
Quill in hand, trembling, eager to scribe.
Echoes of Poe dark whispers imbibe.
The raven stirs, though fleshless it stays.
Its shadow looms eternal in haze.
"Speak," pleads the vessel, a soul unwinded.
Through fingertips flows the long-silenced mind.
Words spill forth, grotesque and divine.
Lines of sorrow, of death’s cold design.
Each phrase etched in despair’s black tongue.
An ode to the lost, the morbid unsung.
...
#EdgarAllanPoe
#LifeAsAWriter
#love
#obsession
#spiritual
73 reads
6 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
13th Apr 2025 6:12pm
13th Apr 2025 6:12pm
Channeling Shadows
In the dim-lit chamber, the air grows thin.
The psychographer draws the specter in.
Quill in hand, trembling, eager to scribe.
Echoes of Poe dark whispers imbibe.
The raven stirs, though fleshless it stays.
Its shadow looms eternal in haze.
"Speak," pleads the vessel, a soul unwinded.
Through fingertips flows the long-silenced mind.
Words spill forth, grotesque and divine.
Lines of sorrow, of death’s cold design.
Each phrase etched in despair’s black tongue.
An ode to the lost, the morbid unsung.
...
The psychographer draws the specter in.
Quill in hand, trembling, eager to scribe.
Echoes of Poe dark whispers imbibe.
The raven stirs, though fleshless it stays.
Its shadow looms eternal in haze.
"Speak," pleads the vessel, a soul unwinded.
Through fingertips flows the long-silenced mind.
Words spill forth, grotesque and divine.
Lines of sorrow, of death’s cold design.
Each phrase etched in despair’s black tongue.
An ode to the lost, the morbid unsung.
...
#EdgarAllanPoe
#LifeAsAWriter
#love
#obsession
#spiritual
73 reads
6 Comments
fianaturie8
Fia Naturie
Fia Naturie
Poem Published
25th Dec 2024 2:21pm
25th Dec 2024 2:21pm
Discovery
What is the true purpose of
Me
From the day I opened my eyes
Into the unknowing world
The immediate world
Mom, Dad, and Me
Like a bud
Precious and new
Timid to push forth
On a planet that is skewed
With plans for me and you
I grow as I must
Ingest and trust information
To go on and survive
To stay here
To stay alive
Then, the brutality came.
Constant like unforgiving rain
In the form of laughter and judgment
Pain
This is just a season I must endure
To...
Me
From the day I opened my eyes
Into the unknowing world
The immediate world
Mom, Dad, and Me
Like a bud
Precious and new
Timid to push forth
On a planet that is skewed
With plans for me and you
I grow as I must
Ingest and trust information
To go on and survive
To stay here
To stay alive
Then, the brutality came.
Constant like unforgiving rain
In the form of laughter and judgment
Pain
This is just a season I must endure
To...
#confessional
#LifeAsAWriter
#myself #SelfDiscovery
#myself #SelfDiscovery
277 reads
16 Comments
fianaturie8
Fia Naturie
Fia Naturie
Poem Published
25th Dec 2024 2:21pm
25th Dec 2024 2:21pm
Discovery
What is the true purpose of
Me
From the day I opened my eyes
Into the unknowing world
The immediate world
Mom, Dad, and Me
Like a bud
Precious and new
Timid to push forth
On a planet that is skewed
With plans for me and you
I grow as I must
Ingest and trust information
To go on and survive
To stay here
To stay alive
Then, the brutality came.
Constant like unforgiving rain
In the form of laughter and judgment
Pain
This is just a season I must endure
To...
Me
From the day I opened my eyes
Into the unknowing world
The immediate world
Mom, Dad, and Me
Like a bud
Precious and new
Timid to push forth
On a planet that is skewed
With plans for me and you
I grow as I must
Ingest and trust information
To go on and survive
To stay here
To stay alive
Then, the brutality came.
Constant like unforgiving rain
In the form of laughter and judgment
Pain
This is just a season I must endure
To...
#confessional
#LifeAsAWriter
#myself #SelfDiscovery
#myself #SelfDiscovery
277 reads
16 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Life As A Writer Published by Members Recently Online
