I can’t write what I wanted to write,
For my head is empty like a room painted in white
Or maybe it’s just so messy, that I can’t think.
I can’t even produce sentences that I can perfectly link.
It's not the way
Your poetry just flows
From pen to paper
Right out of your soul

But rather the way
Your ink spills just right
Threading letters together
Touching hearts as you write
(Excerpt of one of my favorite pieces written exactly 6 years ago on this date.. Happy Writing~BM)
poetry is like the wind
it goes wherever it wills
in flux forever, ever changing
where rules of
communication divine
are traded for amorphous sentiment
hearts speaking random words
without a care for sounding
professional, formal, political
but are free and inspired
Artists minds
Have fragile souls
The delicate way
We pen our words
Shows our vulnerability

We bare our scars
Hopes and dreams
To heal the pain
Of our wounded hearts

We must create
For our own understanding
Self discovery
To process the turmoil
And calm our fears and anxiety

Tattooing our thoughts
On our readers minds
Letting each person who reads
Carry a piece of the pain with them
Until there is none left
Write thick
like footprints in the snow
Write pine
like needles for a bed
Write apple
like cider by burning wood fire
Write boys
outdoors mending at camp
Write road
the journey to significance
I write to you late at night when the world is asleep
I lay my head on my pillow and I write to you.
My hand never touches Pen
and ink never spills
on the empty pages of my journal
I close my eyes and in my mind
I write to you

Sometimes I wonder
do you exist for me
do you?
Nevertheless as God himself  is faithful
I write  to you.
I write you ballads that testify of
all that I have to give
all of the time that I have waited
all of the tears that I’ve cried as
I dreamed of you.

My love seemingly never ending
because after all these years
I have waited for you to tell me that it’s ok. That I don’t have to dream any more.
And that You are here right now.
And I’ll never be alone again.
“I’ll fight with you.
I’ll ride with you and
nothing but death will separate
me from you...”

I wait, I cry and I write to you
In playful haiku of how

I’ll wait and wait and
Wait and wait and wait right here
for you to find me

But then I grow
Older and wiser
because though love never fails
It does evolve
as do I until I am comfortable
Living without you
But secretly praying that you’ll come soon
I write to you.

Though words are sometimes few
Like “ today was great!
Why weren’t you here?”
“I had a hard day, I wish you were here.
To hold me when there is joy and love me through the pain. “
I write to you

My brain won’t abstain because
Longing for you runs too deep.
“Please come find me!”
I write to you.

The words never escaping my mind
Because then I’ll have to admit
That I need you
I am not supposed to need a man.
Because I can handle it on my own
The late nights. The tears.
The joys.
The pain.
On my own
Or I’m less than a woman
And Not to mention

My darling
Maybe one day
You will be here
And I will sing to you every song that I have wanted to sing to you.
And I will tell you every joke that I have wanted to tell you.
And I’ll laugh with you
And every time
I remember today
I’ll Read you a poem
From the book that I wrote to you
A book that is hidden among the neurons
And electrons within my brain
An evolving tapestry
That tells the story of the
Never ending
Love I have for you
Amanda 3d
Look at what you have done to me
And the things I've written
It seems to me you are the snake
I'm the one who's bitten

Your poison seeps around my words
Twists until they are burned
With my unhappy memories
The painful lessons that I've learned

The effect this has on me
Sinks right to the core
Now all because of you
I cannot write about love anymore
This is one from a loong time ago. There is no date so it has to be pre-2010 but I am surprised at how good it is
Cné 3d
A leprechaun told me, “I hear
It’s riches you’d like to appear.
Since I don’t exist,
My pot of gold’s mist —
You’d better keep writing, my dear!”
alexa 3d
the words aren't building right,
the syllables are off and
it doesn't sound right,
sad isn't the word,
it's so much more,
blue isn't the right color
nothing is rhyming and i'm
running out of time
and why is it sometimes so hard to write?
some twisted form of writer's block. being a poet can be hard!
Aduring profane, Love,

Lite unto Thee,

Whose brightness details

Fathomless Heart,

Brilliance, dispelling

Bricks of illusion,

Walls of delusion,

A mind's cell,

Awakening One,

Adhering sacred, mundane,

Neither here nor there,

Am I?

Instant twig of poetree, inspired by Kim Johanna Baker's poem on Diwali   :)
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