Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
It's weird
How comfortable i am with you
Maybe it's coz you are honest

I didn't realise
Just how much i liked you
Till the reality
Of never seeing you again hit me

The pain that stung my heart.
The tears I tried to fight
The memories i tried to hide

Just everything about you
Reminded me
What i'd like
Who i'd like to be with.

You were sent to me
To show me whats real
What's an obsession
How I appreciate it
I was loosing myself
In the obsession

Not anymore though
Sticks, stones, no broke bones
Troubles abound like plague but
your arms keep me safe
Gunfire is but starlight
And death but annoyance
When you gift me the greatest shield of all
Your presence.
In my dream I went missing
Everyone went looking for me
Without a trace I had vanished
No last words or letters ever written
Leaving parts of my presence
But no one ever got a clue of my feelings
There was no reason for them to believe
For I was there for everyone
Listening to every word they had to say
Giving them solace when things went wrong
No one ever heard my story
For I never had a chance to narrate
I went missing, with all my poems and stories
Within them I was living my life
Making the changes with the pen I had
Then suddenly the ink ran dry
I had gone too far, with my manuscripts
No one will ever read my writings
In my dream someone came asking, “Where are you from?”
I could not talk and did not have a language
I handed over the manuscripts
To read out my writings
Suddenly I woke up
And to a new day
Now the dream is behind me
Another day waits in anticipation
Next page