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Jeffrey Pua Nov 2015
Her heart is softened,
Throbbing out of its depths,
From the core of its logic
And the very shell of doubt,
Piecing itself, a-hundred,
Glowing forth majestic, free,
Lighting up the cavity, the walls
Of her reserve, only, just because
You show yourself pure and true,
You persist, and brave, and loose
Your inner chivalry.*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Draft.
Jeffrey Pua Nov 2015
Let's close our eyes
And let it be
     Let true love sleep...

          ...between two dreams.*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Draft.
grumpy thumb Oct 2015
Do you know any good doctors?
My pen needs a laxative
Spot of writers block
Lizzy Love Sep 2015
Sometimes rhyme schemes ****,
Like a Kirby or Bissell.
Rules I do not like!
© Lizzy Collins
what happened?
Where did it go?
I had a gift to write things I didn't totally loathe.
I could write about being dead or sad and it didn't totally blow..
Or I would record my ideas,
and people wouldn't laugh like hyenas.

I don't know what to do;
I can't just get super ****** and pretend I'm Poe.
I just can't write anymore, I don't know..
Please help me end this time of pain;
please help me write something that isn't lame.
no; seriously; read my old stuff, i wasn't any good then but now I'm even worse. :(
DubJDaddy Sep 2015
Oh Great Haiku in the sky
Send sweet releaf from tears you cry
Our minds are barren
Our papers dry
Flood our seeds of poetry
A harvest soon approaching
A festival of frowns & smiles
All are welcome, Men, Women, Child
From there to now and then
We feast upon the blessed poem.
Not a Haiku. lol
Not that I can differentiate one from another
Lex Sep 2015
You never used to inspire me to write.
When I met you, I wished so badly that my writer's block would disappear and I could compose a poem of all the feelings I had for you.
But you know what they say,
Be careful what you wish for.
Because now I can't stop.

Now, the thought of you is so inspiring that all I want to do is write and write and write and write and write and write and write.
Your gorgeous tan skin and bright blue-green eyes force my fingers on the keys to keep going, until my nails are broken and my fingertips are raw.

You never used to make me feel creative.
What happened?

I fell in love.
I dove into the lake of love, heart first,
not realizing that I would never escape it.
I didn't want to escape the canal boat floating down the river of devotion so smoothly.

I should've gotten out when I could.

Little did I know that a shark lingered in that river.
A Great White Shark, ready to lunge at my exposed heart, that rested on my sleeve.
Although what I realize now is,
Sharks only live in the ocean.
The stinging pain in my chest isn't an aquatic beast.
It's love itself,
Trying to rip my heart from my chest and tear it to pieces, before my very eyes.

Love.
The destructive force that tricked me into falling for its lies.
Its promises of joy and happiness,
devotion and fondness.
The infatuation and lust that love guaranteed was all a ploy.
A ploy to catch me in its web, waiting for the spider itself to eat me alive.

You never used to inspire me to write.
But now you're my muse.
I wish I was smarter than this.
I wish I didn't fall in love with your kind heart and your gentle soul.
But remember, be careful what you wish for.
Because maybe, if I hadn't wished in the first place,
My heart wouldn't be so heavy,
And my hands wouldn't be numb from writing endless insignificant love letters to you.
sorry if this was kinda graphic at points xD
Joshua Helmuth Sep 2015
These are the thoughts of...
No
This is the only idea that...
******.
A wall of thought to an ocean of...
Seriously?
The writer's block is...
Oh come on
A good idea is not...
sigh
I won't give up until..
Never mind...
Mike lowe Sep 2015
Here I am again, just this paper and a pen.
So many thoughts to write out but everything goes blank once again..... Writers block, is every poets friend, ask them...

The End.
svdgrl Sep 2015
Sweet knight.
Sweet, silent knight.
I see you when you don't look at me.
You have tired eyes in a castle,
and though you call it salvation,
that blue light wont protect them.
And those hands gloved in mail-
they are not only meant
to grip cold connection.
You may have forgotten
amongst the digital clutter
but your sword is pen.
Quit confusing it with distraction.
Drop your devices and mechanisms
that you use for isolation.
Hold this plea as your new prayer,
even if it's only a whisper.
Make something.
I don't expect greatness,
but when you dress your wounds
in hesitation and use your insecurities
as your armor-
all I can ask is that you make something.
Harness your fear as your steed-
and ride it with ink as you need.
Please just make something.
There are hours in the day spent on
words never said because
those tired eyes are at a stand-still
on a sheet of electronic nonsense,
and you tremble with your shield
of self-doubt.
A block's only a battle,
Don't lose the war to online addiction,
cell phone conversations in meaningless text,
there's more left in your creative conviction.
I see it when you don't look.
Sweet knight,
you are the one in my mind
that is there to save me with your speech
I beseech you,
*Make something.
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