Back to the drawing board I shall go
With hope and visions of rythme and flow
With words and patterns I already know
With goals and standards for my quality of my work to grow
Altogether, having my accumulated knowledge in tow
Its back to the drawing board I shall go
Sometimes in life you find yourself in a slump
The complete lack of inspiration is creating a grump
You grasp at straws considering yourself to be stumped
When all of your ideas seem to be destined for the dump
Its at times like these that you can't give up like a chump
So jump up, get off your **** and get pumped up
Because its back to the drawing board you shall go
I know youve got talent and I know youve got skill
Now go write it all down and give these people a thrill
Just be positive and uplifting. Don't
Be negative and shrill
Do your best, dont be anxious,
But be peaceful and still
Don't rush it or force and don't release it until
Youve gone back to the drawing board and gotten your fill
I wasn't sure of what to write about next. I like to have a steady stream of new content. I woke up today and was pondering what to write about next. The thought of going back to the drawing board came to me while I was having a smoke. Then after my contemplating I decided that going back to the drawing board and not having anything to write about was poem worthy content on its own. So I sat down and starting writing. This poem is the result.
what could i do with my life?
i can see
s t r e t c h e d o u t
in front of me
like that timeline of photos
except i cannot see the future, only the past
and the present
and i hear everything now.
i remember the feel of her heartbeat under me
the taste of her lips
the sound of the waves crashing
the feeling i got when we were together
the smell of delicious food
the heartbreak of seeing my grandpa’s ashes
the hatred i felt looking in the mirror
when i couldn’t breathe
because i was sobbing so hard.
the anticipation, possibility, love,
sweating showering screaming eating sleeping running kissing laughing amazing everything
i can see my contorted face
in the shards of my broken mirror.
put your hand on my heart,
and you will hear my thoughts. move it up
to my brain and you’ll feel blood pumping.
this is ostensibly it
and why? because we have much more to do
so even if it is short it is still so long & is it all?
i know i without a doubt that
this is not
weird time in my life, i am just thinking about a lot of things.
Play the waiting game,
scan each other silently:
"Grand Hotel Europa" (2018, Ilja Leonard Pfeijffer)
Collection "On the fly"
the thoughts in my head are as numerous
as the stars scattered across the sky.
when I brainstorm
rain begins to fall.
inklings of ideas
send shivers down my spine.
I soak up some as possibilities,
throw others away in half a blink.
and then, some days:
a single thread of Lightning
finds its way through the storm,
guiding a handpicked bouquet of ideas
into a colorful tapestry.
it is my Maker,
weaving my words into rocky streams.
stories finding their way onto paper
as they flow from their Mountain source.
Have you ever felt so deeply,
it ripped you *o p e n ?
I only used you*
*To forget about him
and it didn't work
Fling your scarf behind you,
cover your bruised shoulders my dear.
The world is a troublesome place,
not one for delicate skin like yours
which cracks at every splinter
that flies through the rough air
carrying words into your lungs
and choking you till the lines
between good and bad are blurred
and the taste of his lips remind you of poison.
— The End —