T      A
14 hours ago

i couldn't paraphrase us.
and if a poem is only worth
the words written within;
i don't have an introduction.

i don't know where to begin.

Olufunke Kolapo
Olufunke Kolapo
16 hours ago

in the night breeze
all my cares and worries
seem like nothing

#life   #haiku   #hope   #nature   #writing   #micropoetry  
Giannina Randi
Giannina Randi
21 hours ago

In a moment
of fleeting silence,
I found a sense
of lasting peace

thoughts from when i was seated in a quiet spot facing a lake
#poem   #self   #poetry   #words   #peace   #thoughts   #silence   #writing   #ramblings   #moments  

what should be my voice
when writing poetry
- therein lies confusion

avoiding metaphor
and extravagant words
- appears too simple for some

while attending rhyme,
rhythm and meter
- others find unacceptable

following my own path
learning and growing all the while
- must be the way forward

because even though I could
copy their ways of writing
- and reproduce their style

I don't really want that
because their words aren't mine
- my voice is my own

I don't think that I can ever be satisfied with my own work, be it painting or poetry. I will always admire and yearn to be able to do these things as well as I think others do. It is hard to acknowledge ones own shortcomings in any field of endeavour.
1 day ago

About to hear freedom call
While justice whimpers
Hidden in chambers
Suits & robes whisper
Dictating the futures of people

A blind trust for those of us
That no one knows nothing about
The laws to which
We continue to abide
No, challenge insight
Embers smolder inside

Desperate to not
Abandon life's plight
Signing papers
Ending the nightmare
The wear & tear
Of emotional thoughts

Two-year bond
Sing a song of Ps & Qs
Or else suits & robes
Will choose  
Throwing the book
Of blind justice
Rules made just for us


#poem   #poetry   #truth   #freedom   #life   #anxiety   #time   #thoughts   #poems   #writing  
2 days ago

                ||        ship
upon the sea • fractured
light to port and lee • the  
wind it howls and makes    
its pass • thru the rigging    
made of glass • rainbow      
colors splash the waves    
who'd know this boat put
men in graves • though
they were both brave
~~~~~~~~ and bold • they ~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~ disembarked ~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~  ~~~~~~~~ on the ~~~~~~~~  ~~~

~~~~~ ISLE of SOULS ~~~~~

(C) 1/18/2016

I know that this isn't the best
concrete I've done. I did it to
take my mind off things. I'm
going to read a little, then go
to sleep. Very tired.


Clary Burn
Clary Burn
2 days ago

My teachers said, "One day you'll be a writer". They said I had a natural talent, a knack for it. Little did they know that five years on, I wouldn't be happy with anything I ever wrote. Nothing is good enough because I have to be above average. If I'm not, I'm a failure. Good enough is never good enough because you told me I was good but not how to get better. And now when I look at a piece of homework, an essay or a story, I can't truly say I like it because I can't truly believe it. I need constant reassurance of my ability because otherwise I will never be happy. I'm never happy anyway. In fact, I'm going to proof read this fifty times and try my damnedest not to delete it because I am a perfectionist and there is no such thing as perfect.

Rebecca Lynn
Rebecca Lynn
2 days ago

I’m so happy” she said, “I finally found the love of my life.” She hugged him tightly not wanting to let him go; but he hugged her tightly to him, not having the heart to tell her that he was only a figment of her imagination. He was the true love that never was.

Flash Fiction for creative writing class
Rebecca Lynn
Rebecca Lynn
2 days ago

She’s with friends. He’s with friends. She saw him. He saw her. He waved. She blushed. He talked to his friends. She giggled with her friends. He approached. She rebuffed. He asked. She accepted. He bought Starbucks for two. She found seats for two. He said, she said, he said, she said. They left. They entered. He got the drinks. She found them seats. They drank. They talked. They drank. He asked. She accepted. They danced. He kissed. She kissed. They left. They did. She woke, midnight. She left, no note. He slept.

Early morning. He called. No answer. Hung up. Called again. Got voicemail. He cried. He talked. He cried. He worried. He wondered. He stressed. He cried. He hung up. He left. He knocked. No answer. He broke in. She’s not there. He left. He worried. He cried.

Afternoon. She’s got a box. Runs home. Noticed broken door. Calls police. Police arrive. She explains. They talk. Got security. Locks door. Opens box. She tested. She’s positive. She cries. She’s poor. She’s alone. Phone rings. She wipes tears. Looks at phone. Ends call. Tosses phone. Phone rings. Heart’s broke. Can’t talk. Keeps secret. She sleeps.

Next day. He calls. She’s strong. She answers. He talks. He’s relieved. He questions. She breathes. Don’t answer. She asked. They hang up. They meet. She asked. He’s concerned. She cries. He wipes tears. She cries. He comforts. He asked. She answered. He’s shocked. He’s poor. She’s poor. He left. She cried.

He planned. He mapped. He wrote. He stole. He vanished.

Years passed. She parented alone. She met. New love. He knew. He asked. She accepted. She wed, reproduced (again), parented (again). They lived. He wondered. She told. He comforted. She wept. Baby cries. Child cries. She comforts. They sleep. She’s awake. Phone rings. She jumps. It’s him…

Weeks passed. Tomb Stones. She’s dead. Old lover’s dead. Left note. “She’s mine.

A flash fiction I wrote for creative writing and decided to post it on here.

I write for nothing,
I write because of no one,
I write, simply, because I think.
My words are just thoughts expressed in humanly words.
These random, confusing thoughts;
I do not understand.
So I put it in paper,
Hoping one day, someday,
someone out there,

I don't know why I write; Therefore I write.
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