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Poetry for me since sadly losing my wife has now become the love of life
just can't stop writing not that I want
to
In a way poetry saved my life, So all of you who are thinking of taking up poetry writing then, please
do
For I know you'll never look back, write what you feel, believe In what you write, don't be afraid to just write
For sometimes to you It might not make a whole lot of sense, but others will see through your words and read the true meaning of the feeling you
express
Then we all become poets In our own rights, and this world becomes a much nicer place thank's to the poetry you all write
This Is a poem written In hope of encouraging more people to believe In themselves and put pen to paper and write poetry
and hopefully they love It like I do and the world will be a much nicer place through their
poetry
KA Poetry 23h
Love is such a strong thing,
so does Time.

Love gives you everything,
While Time takes everything.
18/12/2018 | 19.22 | Indonesia | K.***
Peeling off layers of humility
To at last reveal authenticity,
To exhibit my pride most shamelessly,
I accept this vulnerability.

To be who I am confronts irony,
As still letters mask personality.
The art form I love has complicity—
The true self hides inside true poetry.

To shed this self-loathing ability,
And be honest in rhyme’s complexity,
I create pages of pure fantasy
That speak the words I feel most honestly.

Words tend to survive mortal’s history,
Past their reflection of reality,
So they seem written with mendacity,
Though lies are beyond my capacity.

Today I acknowledge futility
Of a poem that lacks identity.
This writer makes no more apology—
I am written words and the words are me.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy "Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life" at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Megan H 1d
Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?
I'm sorry I haven't written a while! Love you all
I used to think that all I wanted
was someone to love me,
someone to give me all their
warmth and trust and sympathy.
The more I sit here in this
empty room beside a window,
the more I realize that that
kind of life ain't meant for me.

I'm making friends with all the
shadows climbing on my rooftop,
and I hear music in the leaves
that rustle in the wind.
And I dont need no pity, girl,
I kinda like the struggle.
Like feeling 'round for the doorknob
when the lights are dimmed.

Each day someone will call and
offer me a new solution,
and while I do respect the
depths of their true concern,
they have to realize solitude
and silence both are virtues -
but that's a lesson that I
hope they never need to learn.
purdah (noun) - a state of seclusion or secrecy, often self-imposed.

Written in the style of "Solute Your Solution" by The Raconteurs.
To illume the earth,
The sun has to be burnt.
This instance is known,
So I too learnt.

That I shall be scorching,
When you would leave.
Infact, I would be hindered,
But bestow my wish to relieve.

Thinking how would be the eve?
When my eyes would have tears,
And no vigour in my sleeve.

Then a liquid which is ignobly famed,
Would be complice of mine.
Would console my heart in this way,
So I can weep and whine.
This poem depicts the presumption of the poet's mood at the time of departure of his beloved for forever.
i almost want to laugh at how much i wanted you
sleepless nights. countless.
wondering if I was even a thought on your mind.
if ever the possibility of us fluttered with one beat.
544 days
even if it was for a split second, in a prayer or a curse
you were there. marring everything that i'd built

*
it's funny. He always gives us what we need.
all i needed was something to sully this fabricated sustenance that i wanted so badly to believe in
&
here it is.
Star BG 3d
I am member of the society of poets
We travel on fields of white
planting words.
We see with different eyes the world
full of emotions to purge and scribe.

Our society is large.
building everyday,
as we gather at all hours
to shoot the breeze with phases.  

Our stomping grounds
are grand landscapes and dark caves.
Oceans wide to battle rage gallantly.

Our hearts are open
as we take spear like pens
to write at times bleeding in verse.

Sometimes our poetry is light and airy
like summer breeze, and singing birds.

Other times strong like fire-y pit
where words burn almost scorching soul.

New members are always welcome
to play with words
releasing dark to merge with light.

Fair warning I give you...
For there is no return once thee join,
as heart takes over and bug bits deep,
making you member forever.
when I saw word society in poem it inspired me
Amanda 4d
Mornings of silence with notebooks
Multiple blankets piled around
Searching for answers and deeper meaning
Within inexplicable lack of sound

Sharpness of my pencil scratching
Fills my body with calming joy
The quiet still holds only questions
So solitude's presence I merely enjoy

Just listening to my heart thump steady
I turn emotion into art
If eyes are windows to the soul
Poetry is a peephole to the heart
About those quiet comfortable mornings with just me and my pen
She wonders who would love her aching bones,
And the smell and rot of her flesh,
But he showed her there's beauty in ashes.
True beauty lies in our souls.
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