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eliana 1d
Why do i write?
To help me through the sleepless nights?
What do i gain?
A way to verbally share the pain.
How does it help?
Gives me a way to express myself.
Poetry gives me a way to share my many thoughts
and the many battles that I've fought.
Why do I write?
Just because it feels so right.
CE Uptain Jul 16
Poets write poems
They think and think
Pickup their pens, it’s over
I' sure this is not haiku, at least it's short and to the point. We poets are a funny bunch.
CE Uptain Jul 15
I drink; therefore I write
I write, therefore I am

Words that can’t be spoken
Must be read with an open heart

My heart bleeds words
I am a poet at heart

My pen writes the truth
The truth comes with pain

The thousands of words I’ve written
Are only tears on the page

A hopeless romantic
Makes a good poet

Love is a teacher
I have failing grades

Only death is permanent
Life is just a temporary dream

Love is a fleeting sunset
I live for the night

Dreams are for the dreamers
Reality is for the wicked

Time is for everyone
No one has the time

I am a heartbeat
Skip to my Lou my darling

The past is a place to stay
The future has no vacancies

The winners take the prize
Second place is the first losers

We are all crazy here
It’s not a contest

In my mind I’m a hero
Time loves a hero

A lost soul is a disguise
Only a fool turns and runs

Life waits for no one
I’m already too far behind

If I only had a moment
I could tell you my heart

Tomorrow only brings today
Yesterdays are long gone

Darkness balances the light
Sorrow weighs the heart

Youth is a fleeting dream
Old age is hell

Mysteries are to wonder
Nature is to wander

I can only speak for me
A speech is for everyone

Sentimental values tax the heart
Letting go is the price

I can only write what I feel
Poetry shows my soul to all

I thank my muse
For making me write





I thank my fellow poets for being there. I know you pour out your hearts and bare your souls. I feel your pain and I respect your words.

With passion and heart; **
Sorry for the length of this one. My muse said it had to be this way.
CE Uptain Jul 11
This must be my sad pen,
    that’s all it wants to write
It’s sad because my lover,
    she only wants to fight

My pen and I are lonely,
    no one to hold tonight
We can only see the darkness,
    we cannot see the light

My pen and I used to be happy,
    my lover was by my side
Now we share the blackened sky,
    where we can run and hide

Someday soon I’ll find my happy pen,
    write about how good our love was
My happy pen will make me smile,
    that’s what my happy pen does
Another poet's lament
Castel Jul 10
Depersonalization: - (from Cambridge Dictionary) “experiencing events as if you were a third party observer, disconnected from your body or feelings”.

                                  - (from Dictionary.com) 1. the act of depersonalizing; 2. the state of being depersonalized; 3. Psychiatry. a state in which one no longer perceives the reality of one's self or one's environment.

                                   - (from lived experience)

1. A feeling turned sentiment, spontaneity that lasts too long, way too long, way too little; a moment stolen from the hustle and bustle, the conversations of others and mine; taken and returned like an eraser during a test; given and returned in perfect condition, unless the eraser’s yours, in which case you know this to be untrue: Fundamental change occurred, nothing really changed, nothing’s really different; You know this and yet you can’t go back, it’s impossible; Time isn’t linear, but it is and someone dirtied your timeline. Why are your hands *****?

2. A lost key, item, bauble, thing, it doesn’t matter; Held in your hand one moment, leaving you the next; did it leave of its own accord? Did it take up the road and walk away? Was it you?Without it, you can’t enter home and yet you enter home and it is your home, clinically yours, truthfully stranger: You lost your way home, you’ve known it since birth, since speech, since thought and yet you left and there is no way home: You are not lost.

3. Being lost, being unaware, you are lost; there is no body to hold you, ground you; You stole your costume, it knows you stole it, it won’t let you go: prisoner, thief, vagabond; You are so lost that you forgot: you’re not you, there is no you, there never has been, why would there be? You would be able to find yourself within the faces of others, the bodies of others, the existence of others; but there is no you, so you cannot, must not exist in their eyes, their nose, their teeth and bones, oh! boneless wanderer, there is no you among them.

4. Alienation from others, alienation from myself- An Exercise In Description.
Write from the heart. Write with purity and until you have bled every ounce of passion from your pen. Write until you have exhausted the limits of your creativity, until you're free..

-Rhia Clay
Ivan Jun 16
I write!

some say it's poetry

I call it air

I write, therefore I am
ap0calyps3 Jun 11
Lost in darkness in my life, in his eyes I found my light
When everything is wrong, he makes it right.
inspired by
You're the only good thing in my life by Cas
Piyush Jun 2
Evening it is.
Already?
No work, no **** —
Just silence.
I'm writing.

Can't take the risk,
Yeah, I’m scared.
No pressure, no disc,
Yet I’m prepared.

To work,
I must,
Though my thoughts
Gather dust.

Finding work —
Yeah, I’m berserk.
Not skilled,
Just the will
To fight.

I’m waiting.
Yeah, there are great things,
Just not for me.
But then —
There is she,
In my memories.
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