Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
annh Nov 2019
For each judges according to their truth;
And, accordingly, every truth affords a judgement.

The title attributed to Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington. A catchcry of freedom of speech advocates the world over.

‘My Lord Duke, in Harriette Wilson's Memoirs, which I am about to publish, are various anecdotes of Your Grace which it would be most desirable to withhold, at least such is my opinion. I have stopped the Press for the moment, but as the publication will take place next week, little delay can necessarily take place.’
- John Joseph Stockdale
Raven Woodfort Mar 2019
I.

Words can be more powerful than deeds
if you know how to use them.
But
how do you know that you know
how to use them?

Is it
when your best friend smells
the green of your grass,
When your sister remembers her tears
in your poem?
When the stranger tastes the salt in your sea air and
When a renowned poet sees you’re a brilliant diamond? But
When will you believe them?
When would you believe
in yourself?

But
you are just an amateur and are clueless and
you don’t believe

you can do it.
When will you stop doubting
[whether you’re any good/yourself and your skills] and

start practising your art,
start placing down your words.
Know that you know
how to use them.
Believe them.


II.

Your words are like ants
on the paper;
small, few perhaps. But
when you add them all up

you have a legion of punches.
You’re a warrior of words,
powerful, mighty, gentle, defending
and building the people.
Your people.

To them
a hero is what you are
when you share your speaking pictures,
when you show your singing words,

when you believe it yourself.
You are.
You are a writer.
Write your words.


III.

No-one knows you
sees you
hears you.
You have no name
yet. When you
write like you’re not scared
type like your words have power
try different pens like
you have a hundred swords,

you will become
somebody.
When you are just
a nobody who believes
in themselves, when

you are just an amateur and are clueless and
when you believe

you will shake the world.
You will always be somebody,
no matter what.
You will.
Because you can.


IV.

You’re a writer.
You have words.
They’re yours.

You will know when you know
how to use them.
Just believe in them.
Write them.
To all those poets, journalists, writers, scribblers, who are too afraid to share or publish or show their words to anyone and everything: close your eyes. Press the "send" button. You did it.
try
try to begin
no
why?
the weather is cold
try to walk
no
why?
the sleep is funny
the other reach
you still have wish
and wait for a witch
who makes you rich
and gets your want publish
the dream wants work and work not sleep
JR Rhine Sep 2017
Hey everyone!
I just wanted to let you all know about the release of my self-published book of poems, "Parking Lot Poems"! Thank you all for your support; this website has been instrumental in shaping me into the poet I am today. If you have ever read a single word or line from one of my works, thank you. If you are interested in purchasing a copy, you can do so here:

http://jrrhinepoetry.bigcartel.com/product/parking-lot-poems-poetry-book

Thank you!
http://jrrhinepoetry.bigcartel.com/product/parking-lot-poems-poetry-book
Mary-Eliz Apr 2017
I long to know what I'm up against,
my competition,
those who will win silver cups
and
accolades

while I sit longingly
and
wait

those whose words will find
the ordered spaces
of a published piece
and
fall in place
as if meant to be.

At the selling table
I exchange dollars
for a glimpse
into their thoughts.

What I see does not
surprise me,
confirming
what I knew already.

Their words caress
the page
and
make it smile.

Their screams slash it
and
make a gaping hole
through which
pour their souls.

Sounding weak
and
foolish,
my own words
echo
in my head.

I want to take them back,
embarrassed
that I ever set them down
and
gave them to be judged.
I read poetry as if it was mine
I write poetry
Sometimes it is random.
It comes from my most inner
Thoughts
It not always a hit
I try not to let
it get me down .
Your comments
are much more of value.
I have inspiration.
To write .
But when I don't I experience
Writers block.

What is classed as a great poet
Quality of the words
The meaning
Long poems
Or short poems .
Well what ever it is.
I guess I never find it.
Embrace yourselves
For the year
2016
Scottish Book Trust

    You are here
    Home
    My childhood memories in the snow

My childhood memories in the snow
By Rosalind Alexander
look it up .. success


My childhood memories in the snow
By Rosalind Alexander
Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on print
Share on email

When I was a child I loved the snow. I loved to simply just gaze and gaze at the large white snowflakes falling on the ground, forming a big white blanket that lit up the dark grey sky. I used to imagine Father Christmas passing by on his sleigh. Often I heard jingle bells and I would quickly jump out of my bed with excitement. I stood for hours watching snow blowing blizzards across the rooftops. Everything sparkled liked the Queen’s crown jewels, what a glorious sight.

The very next day my Dad would take us sleighing down the hill. Mum always made sure that we were all warmly wrapped up with our hats, scarfs and mitts and our ******* wellington boots. We had so much fun in the snow. Often we got carried away and made about ten snowmen. We would decorate them with buttons and put in a couple of stones for eyes and a carrot for a long nose. Sometimes if we had an old coat we put it on the jolly old snowman, he looked like he was about to come to life. In my dreams he would be my friend and play with me. We would fly all over the town high above the clouds, across the sea over hills and houses.

I screamed in sheer delight, it was often my way of escaping my abusive childhood.

Sometimes I long for these moments again. But sadly I have grown up and these memories have faded, but I still get excited about the snow for it hold special memories for me as a child.

Keywords:
snow, snowman, childhood, emotional journey
B Young Feb 2015
Figure a trigger
pictured fingers
scratch the brain
pick it ****, exposed;
******* minds only craving one more dime.
Insane
vein blade
neck noose
she drinks some to feel loose.

creeping
convulsions

chills christen me a martyr
King of the opiophiles
Christ of the smackheads
Conquering coconaut
Hero to heroinites
Majesty of the methodonians

Glitches in systems revolving
rebel against or kiss them
Ring the bell to bring out the MOB and roll your future to face the dice
who are they ask for advice?
You draw towards these demons while behind you attempt to bask
a mask
Cody raises a flask of poison resentful regrets
Brody the roadie is always on the move
that ****** basement edm dub scene sure did become crass
which only leaves you, alone to groove
and we drink my flask our flask and bask in romance and death
Sorry Sir that you asked…but wait I have one more thought before the session reaches the inevitable conclusive aspect. Listen to my
Unexplained Law
Of
Academic actualizations
Basic casualization
Capital causes compound connections only resulting in casualty
I am orbiting you
Blazing comet
A simple sultry satellite
cold convoluted
Sad
at my farthest reaching far flung Aphelion
Warming and safe at my closest approach to You
Blazing life bringer
Holy holy holy art thou oh Eye of all
Allow me to forever remain at Perihelion
The laws of Keplar could not keep us from colliding
in the end
fire
will be all dividing
Next page