Do you rely on this website more
To write
Or to read?
...
Equally?

When I write poetry
I write like I speak
Almost
Basically
My thoughts
Feelings
Emotions
As they come
But
When she writes
Each word
Each phrase
Each letter
Each sound
is carefully thought out
Meticulous
Perfect
Each, an essential part of the whole
The materpiece
So,
Is it something I will learn?
When I grow up?
Or,
Is it an innate difference between us?

They’re cheesy
Some of my poems I know
An imitation
Of ideas used to the point of being frayed
Tattered and in holes
No longer appealing
Until I take them
And give them a shiny new cover
Then they’re attractive...
To some
Who need the idea repeated to them
Or to those who truly appreciate poetry for its function as a medium
Through which ideas, old and new, are transmitted in
Attractive ways
So maybe it’s really the reader
What they
Need
Want
And see

Today I was looking through my old works
Searching
For a hidden treasure
A diamond in the mud
Or even
A pliable piece of wood
Maybe not a prize in itself
But
Potential
Or something quite ordinary
But hiding secrets within
Of emotions
Memories
Thoughts I never knew I had
Something
Anything to excite my senses
And to give me a sense
That it
was worth it

When you write a poem
It's your
thoughts
emotions
experiences
Once you share it
It becomes a chameleon
Changing itself
Not to camouflage and hide
But to be viewed by each reader
in a personal and individualistic
Manner

Is it better to write like you live
Or live like you write?

I used to write with words
Embodying my individual emotions
In splotches of paint
Now
I write with phrases
Stringing words together to paint a picture
No longer simply splatter paint
...
But a collage

There’s something interesting to notice
When one shares their poems
Out there
For one and all to see

There are certain patterns
Certain people

That read certain poetry

When I write short, sweet, to the point
Two lines
Or three

Certain people flock

When I write long
With depth, almost like a story

Others stalk

Then when I let out my inner cynic,
Try something new
Rant out my views

I get a whole nother crowd all together
Comprising sometimes, those from the former two as well

Some go for depressing,
Trying to find someone who matches
Their own soulful nature

Others would rather settle
For some lighthearted fun

And still yet more
Would choose something else

And I wonder how do you choose
How do you pick amongst the multitudes?
Do you even care?
Or is it what’s right in front of your eyes?

Perhaps it’s based on what you like to write?
What you’d like to do?
What you’d like to be?
Who you’d like to be?

Is there even an answer key?
Is there ever?