Poems About My Inspiration Published by Members Recently Online
#MyInspiration
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
18th Jan 2023 11:54pm
18th Jan 2023 11:54pm
Gas Fire
Leaf-green and rather sleek, I thought,
at fourteen or fifteen, the internet
my bookseller. I've lost it now,
that old collected works,
as evergreen as Christian hymns.
He taught me, I suppose, that loneliness
is like a house, untenanted in spite
of what’s been bought and set out new
for laughter, years, and food, and love.
The silence like a single glove.
The line remembered most, back then,
was this: The gas-fire breathes.
Last verse of Best Society. Before my time,
the gas fire. Yet I could see and feel
its...
at fourteen or fifteen, the internet
my bookseller. I've lost it now,
that old collected works,
as evergreen as Christian hymns.
He taught me, I suppose, that loneliness
is like a house, untenanted in spite
of what’s been bought and set out new
for laughter, years, and food, and love.
The silence like a single glove.
The line remembered most, back then,
was this: The gas-fire breathes.
Last verse of Best Society. Before my time,
the gas fire. Yet I could see and feel
its...
#loneliness
#childhood
#MyInspiration #WritingPoetry
#MyInspiration #WritingPoetry
255 reads
5 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
18th Jan 2023 11:54pm
18th Jan 2023 11:54pm
Gas Fire
Leaf-green and rather sleek, I thought,
at fourteen or fifteen, the internet
my bookseller. I've lost it now,
that old collected works,
as evergreen as Christian hymns.
He taught me, I suppose, that loneliness
is like a house, untenanted in spite
of what’s been bought and set out new
for laughter, years, and food, and love.
The silence like a single glove.
The line remembered most, back then,
was this: The gas-fire breathes.
Last verse of Best Society. Before my time,
the gas fire. Yet I could see and feel
its...
at fourteen or fifteen, the internet
my bookseller. I've lost it now,
that old collected works,
as evergreen as Christian hymns.
He taught me, I suppose, that loneliness
is like a house, untenanted in spite
of what’s been bought and set out new
for laughter, years, and food, and love.
The silence like a single glove.
The line remembered most, back then,
was this: The gas-fire breathes.
Last verse of Best Society. Before my time,
the gas fire. Yet I could see and feel
its...
#loneliness
#childhood
#MyInspiration #WritingPoetry
#MyInspiration #WritingPoetry
255 reads
5 Comments
jemac
Poem Published
13th Jun 2024 5:19pm
13th Jun 2024 5:19pm
dendrolatry
she has not been moved
recently by the curve of her pen
it rests stagnant in the bowl
of mystic dewy ink
hiding in a drawer that
refuses to open its gallery
of words
her paper rests
unwillingly vacant and alone
perhaps words weren't necessary
small piercings emerged
punctuated by color
her ink became threads
translating her thoughts
into image
needle working it's way through
the tangle of words
becoming branches
slowly intertwining
into another art form ...
recently by the curve of her pen
it rests stagnant in the bowl
of mystic dewy ink
hiding in a drawer that
refuses to open its gallery
of words
her paper rests
unwillingly vacant and alone
perhaps words weren't necessary
small piercings emerged
punctuated by color
her ink became threads
translating her thoughts
into image
needle working it's way through
the tangle of words
becoming branches
slowly intertwining
into another art form ...
#art
#LifeAsAWriter
#MyInspiration #nature
#MyInspiration #nature
255 reads
5 Comments
jemac
Poem Published
13th Jun 2024 5:19pm
13th Jun 2024 5:19pm
dendrolatry
she has not been moved
recently by the curve of her pen
it rests stagnant in the bowl
of mystic dewy ink
hiding in a drawer that
refuses to open its gallery
of words
her paper rests
unwillingly vacant and alone
perhaps words weren't necessary
small piercings emerged
punctuated by color
her ink became threads
translating her thoughts
into image
needle working it's way through
the tangle of words
becoming branches
slowly intertwining
into another art form ...
recently by the curve of her pen
it rests stagnant in the bowl
of mystic dewy ink
hiding in a drawer that
refuses to open its gallery
of words
her paper rests
unwillingly vacant and alone
perhaps words weren't necessary
small piercings emerged
punctuated by color
her ink became threads
translating her thoughts
into image
needle working it's way through
the tangle of words
becoming branches
slowly intertwining
into another art form ...
#art
#LifeAsAWriter
#MyInspiration #nature
#MyInspiration #nature
255 reads
5 Comments
jemac
Poem Published
13th Jun 2024 5:19pm
13th Jun 2024 5:19pm
dendrolatry
she has not been moved
recently by the curve of her pen
it rests stagnant in the bowl
of mystic dewy ink
hiding in a drawer that
refuses to open its gallery
of words
her paper rests
unwillingly vacant and alone
perhaps words weren't necessary
small piercings emerged
punctuated by color
her ink became threads
translating her thoughts
into image
needle working it's way through
the tangle of words
becoming branches
slowly intertwining
into another art form ...
recently by the curve of her pen
it rests stagnant in the bowl
of mystic dewy ink
hiding in a drawer that
refuses to open its gallery
of words
her paper rests
unwillingly vacant and alone
perhaps words weren't necessary
small piercings emerged
punctuated by color
her ink became threads
translating her thoughts
into image
needle working it's way through
the tangle of words
becoming branches
slowly intertwining
into another art form ...
#art
#LifeAsAWriter
#MyInspiration #nature
#MyInspiration #nature
255 reads
5 Comments
jemac
Poem Published
13th Jun 2024 5:19pm
13th Jun 2024 5:19pm
dendrolatry
she has not been moved
recently by the curve of her pen
it rests stagnant in the bowl
of mystic dewy ink
hiding in a drawer that
refuses to open its gallery
of words
her paper rests
unwillingly vacant and alone
perhaps words weren't necessary
small piercings emerged
punctuated by color
her ink became threads
translating her thoughts
into image
needle working it's way through
the tangle of words
becoming branches
slowly intertwining
into another art form ...
recently by the curve of her pen
it rests stagnant in the bowl
of mystic dewy ink
hiding in a drawer that
refuses to open its gallery
of words
her paper rests
unwillingly vacant and alone
perhaps words weren't necessary
small piercings emerged
punctuated by color
her ink became threads
translating her thoughts
into image
needle working it's way through
the tangle of words
becoming branches
slowly intertwining
into another art form ...
#art
#LifeAsAWriter
#MyInspiration #nature
#MyInspiration #nature
255 reads
5 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
10th Dec 2018 3:57pm
10th Dec 2018 3:57pm
Birthday of but a single pang ( for Emily Dickinson on her birthday )
Birthday of but a single pang
scripted in poetry –
An observational epitaph
your destined legacy –
This illumed anniversary:
one hundred eighty-eight –
Sealed your quill in drying ink
letters in passionate blaze –
I wonder – perchance –
did you [hear] a fly buzz –
or see the window darken in Death
as...
scripted in poetry –
An observational epitaph
your destined legacy –
This illumed anniversary:
one hundred eighty-eight –
Sealed your quill in drying ink
letters in passionate blaze –
I wonder – perchance –
did you [hear] a fly buzz –
or see the window darken in Death
as...
#LifeAsAWriter
#MyInspiration
#WritingPoetry #EmilyDickinson
#WritingPoetry #EmilyDickinson
1110 reads
10 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
10th Dec 2018 3:57pm
10th Dec 2018 3:57pm
Birthday of but a single pang ( for Emily Dickinson on her birthday )
Birthday of but a single pang
scripted in poetry –
An observational epitaph
your destined legacy –
This illumed anniversary:
one hundred eighty-eight –
Sealed your quill in drying ink
letters in passionate blaze –
I wonder – perchance –
did you [hear] a fly buzz –
or see the window darken in Death
as...
scripted in poetry –
An observational epitaph
your destined legacy –
This illumed anniversary:
one hundred eighty-eight –
Sealed your quill in drying ink
letters in passionate blaze –
I wonder – perchance –
did you [hear] a fly buzz –
or see the window darken in Death
as...
#LifeAsAWriter
#MyInspiration
#WritingPoetry #EmilyDickinson
#WritingPoetry #EmilyDickinson
1110 reads
10 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
10th Dec 2018 3:57pm
10th Dec 2018 3:57pm
Birthday of but a single pang ( for Emily Dickinson on her birthday )
Birthday of but a single pang
scripted in poetry –
An observational epitaph
your destined legacy –
This illumed anniversary:
one hundred eighty-eight –
Sealed your quill in drying ink
letters in passionate blaze –
I wonder – perchance –
did you [hear] a fly buzz –
or see the window darken in Death
as...
scripted in poetry –
An observational epitaph
your destined legacy –
This illumed anniversary:
one hundred eighty-eight –
Sealed your quill in drying ink
letters in passionate blaze –
I wonder – perchance –
did you [hear] a fly buzz –
or see the window darken in Death
as...
#LifeAsAWriter
#MyInspiration
#WritingPoetry #EmilyDickinson
#WritingPoetry #EmilyDickinson
1110 reads
10 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
10th Dec 2018 3:57pm
10th Dec 2018 3:57pm
Birthday of but a single pang ( for Emily Dickinson on her birthday )
Birthday of but a single pang
scripted in poetry –
An observational epitaph
your destined legacy –
This illumed anniversary:
one hundred eighty-eight –
Sealed your quill in drying ink
letters in passionate blaze –
I wonder – perchance –
did you [hear] a fly buzz –
or see the window darken in Death
as...
scripted in poetry –
An observational epitaph
your destined legacy –
This illumed anniversary:
one hundred eighty-eight –
Sealed your quill in drying ink
letters in passionate blaze –
I wonder – perchance –
did you [hear] a fly buzz –
or see the window darken in Death
as...
#LifeAsAWriter
#MyInspiration
#WritingPoetry #EmilyDickinson
#WritingPoetry #EmilyDickinson
1110 reads
10 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
17th Jul 2024 10:34am
17th Jul 2024 10:34am
Real Talk
I watch her perch on a seventies chair
hair draped across her face
skirt meeting skin at the knees.
I look at her there
crushed
somewhere between woe
and the wandering world
as she talks of how time
eats her alive
how love fucks her up
as she fidgets with a silver ring,
chews her bottom lip.
I can’t help but think
how beautiful women are
in their fury
how they arrive
crowning grief at the base
birthing hope into lives and rooms
that hold no place for them ...
hair draped across her face
skirt meeting skin at the knees.
I look at her there
crushed
somewhere between woe
and the wandering world
as she talks of how time
eats her alive
how love fucks her up
as she fidgets with a silver ring,
chews her bottom lip.
I can’t help but think
how beautiful women are
in their fury
how they arrive
crowning grief at the base
birthing hope into lives and rooms
that hold no place for them ...
#MyInspiration
#strength
#vulnerability
#weakness
#women
141 reads
2 Comments
Northern_Soul
Poem Published
17th Jul 2024 10:34am
17th Jul 2024 10:34am
Real Talk
I watch her perch on a seventies chair
hair draped across her face
skirt meeting skin at the knees.
I look at her there
crushed
somewhere between woe
and the wandering world
as she talks of how time
eats her alive
how love fucks her up
as she fidgets with a silver ring,
chews her bottom lip.
I can’t help but think
how beautiful women are
in their fury
how they arrive
crowning grief at the base
birthing hope into lives and rooms
that hold no place for them ...
hair draped across her face
skirt meeting skin at the knees.
I look at her there
crushed
somewhere between woe
and the wandering world
as she talks of how time
eats her alive
how love fucks her up
as she fidgets with a silver ring,
chews her bottom lip.
I can’t help but think
how beautiful women are
in their fury
how they arrive
crowning grief at the base
birthing hope into lives and rooms
that hold no place for them ...
#MyInspiration
#strength
#vulnerability
#weakness
#women
141 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About My Inspiration Published by Members Recently Online
