Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Poetry.
Some are good
and some are bad.

WRONG

There's no such thing
as good or bad poetry.

Poetry is the heart's
only voice.
Are you going to tell me
that the heart
doesn't have the right
to speak freely
without being judged?

If you don't understand
poetry,
than you, sir,
have not lived life.
If the Average Attention span is 8 seconds
How do I increase it for studying?
The statistic above regarding 8 seconds, I got from StatisticBrain.com
I am taking a break from studying due to my attention span waning.
 Sep 2014 David Hall
Jenn Yeo
I wish the wind would pick me up like dead leaves and throw me across a busy street
As painful as my death would be for you is as painful as living is for me
 Sep 2014 David Hall
Carla Marie
while it is understood...
and probably
goes without saying
that everyone
as the saying goes
is a critic
most self appointed reviewers
fail to realize that

Poetry exists in the mind
belonging to the thinking subject... rather than
to the object of thought

Poetry is personal... placing emphasis on one's own moods
and attitudes... funky or otherwise...

you love it...
or you hate it...
you read it...
or you do not read it...
it does nothing to you.. or
hits a sweet spot
ignites or dampens a fire
permeates the soul
takes root... and
stays with you
for such a time as it is needed
to brighten your day...
luxuriate in solitude...
commemorate a love... or
accentuate a hate

Poetry
is abstract... illusory... instinctive... relative
to where one is at the time...
and therefore
not open to
editorial examination...
or critique

...I'm just sayin
 Sep 2014 David Hall
John Watson
That's the thing about secrets.
We bottle them up, and watch as they eat us up.
Corroding our bodies from the inside to the out.
We have to let them out. We have to let one person know.
Then two. Then three. Then four.
Then we're sitting alone wondering where everything went.
All because of the words in our heads.
Beat* a thousand beats,
Crumble a thousand crumbles;
But no single formula, nor restless colloquy
Can mend the deafening black gravity nestled in this cage.
May grow flowers, but disintegrates to ash.
Soars to the highest peak, then jolted with a fatal blow.
Comedy or tragedy, truth or dare, numbers or letters, fidelity or treachery;
What does it choose?

Courage, dear heart.
This is another pen and ink draft coming from the crevices of my thoughts, in this quiescent and intellectual brain of mine. Enjoy!

Frankly, I've been having a dilemma for the title of this piece. Can anyone give me some suggestions? Thank you.
insanity is broken veins

insanity is cracked

insanity is a hangover you can’t cure with some water

insanity is dead skin and mardi gras beads

insanity is absolutely repulsive

you’re going in circles

insanity is the tipping point

insanity is over the edge

trembling

insanity is writer’s block

insanity is broken veins

insanity is attempting to laugh but simply stuttering

choking

insanity is a lit cigarette close to the filter but not quite there yet

insanity is pepper

insanity is insanity

insanity is broken veins

insanity is broken veins

insanity is
Next page