#writing poems on Hello Poetry

Valentin Eni 2d

I always write something,
until, in the end, perhaps,
I will discover
poetry...

2003.
The poem reflects on the creative process as a journey of exploration and self-discovery. It suggests that writing is an ongoing search for meaning, beauty, and truth, with the ultimate goal of uncovering poetry—the essence of artistic expression.

Writing is presented as a persistent act, even when the purpose or outcome is unclear. It emphasizes the importance of practice and perseverance in the creative process.

"perhaps" introduces ambiguity, acknowledging that the pursuit of poetry may not have a definite or guaranteed resolution.

Poetry is portrayed as a treasure or revelation waiting to be uncovered, symbolizing the more profound meaning or beauty beneath the surface of ordinary writing.

The poem conveys that poetry is not a given but something to be discovered through effort and exploration. It captures the tension between the uncertainty of the creative journey and the hope that, eventually, writing will lead to something profound and meaningful.

Its brevity and simplicity reflect the essence of poetry itself: the ability to convey complex emotions and ideas with minimal words. The poem leaves readers contemplating the relationship between persistence, discovery, and the elusive nature of artistic inspiration.

#writing #poetry #discovery #end

Antonia 3d

bad writing

Many days have passed since I wrote something good
Maybe that's a sign of my inner world quieting down
Maybe in silence poetry has no place
When the wounds stop hurting and the heart stops weeping
There is nothing left to write about
Or at least not with the same urgency
No words that boil to be written
No feelings eating you alive
Just life filling your cup
Significant small things
Meaningful acts
Deep conversations
Home cooked meals
And cozy blankets
Have given me more peace
Than you ever could

#writing #poetry #cozy #silence #peace #contempt #thoughts

Kat Oct 3

Poetry

Poetry
The word itself sounds poetic
My bad, I meant to say pathetic.
Poetry. Poet-try.
I do try
In pain, in vain.
Again, and again.
I am a poetrier.

#poetry #poem #poet #writing

Micko 7d

The Poet

How can you hate a Poet?
How can you hate a person who freely pours, his/her fantasy imaginations and art to the world?
How can you hate such a pure and honest soul?

The new dawn 222.

Micko

#hate #poet #poetry #writing #passion #art

Jamie Henderson 7d

My Platelets

I am wounded,
I am scorned,
but here I exert my pain
in permanent ink,
and here in my words, it will stay;
the red webs in loose skin,
an arm of scars;
a tome to tell stories
of depression,
for it seems that love withers
and tears stain.

Writing is where all my emotion goes and where it lives.

#creative #writing #depression #life #mental #health #process #joy #scars #poetry

Jamie Henderson Nov 12

A Flayed Writer

I like the waves.
The way their static fizz tickles
the bristles of my ears,
as if they were long brown thistles in beach dunes,
engirding pools of sand between
the wet crevices of my toes.

I’ll lie in the bayside sheets of gold,
where the clouds drift silent,
encompassed by its warm fold,
soaking my horse-haired brush
into sand-speckled jar,
painting my watercolour flowers;
butter daffodils and heavens daisies.

I’ll lie on sun-dried towels
beneath chequered brolly
and scribble my brain
into summer-kissed parchment,
with leaded letters and granite words.

I’ll write in the colour of my soul,
using what’s left of my heart,
as I’m flayed down to the white-skinned bones
that hold me upright:
left thin and pale.
But, for these tapestries,
I find it worth my loves
discounted sale.

Passionate writing takes its toll.

#writing #happiness #life #draining #art #passion #beach #summer

Belinda S Richmond Nov 12

Let my Pen do the Talking for Me

I write to be free,
flows right out of me;
when Inspired to write;
It comes rapidly.

My mind steady ponders,
A world full of wonders,
encouraged to Inspire, as
I ever so desire.

My pen steady moving, and
minds steady grooving,
it's as easy as walking,
let my pen do the talking.

B.R.
01/12/2023

#pen #talking #writing #flowing #rapidly #ponders #wonders #mind

Boris Cho Nov 10

Foundations

The day unfolds with a heart steeped in gratitude, stirred awake by morning meditation. The afternoon finds me beneath a willow's gentle sway, a book cradled in my hands, warmth rising from a mug beside me. As night whispers its arrival, my thoughts spill onto paper, paired with a quiet indulgence. Each moment carries the weight of intention, weaving a rhythm of mindfulness, stillness, and creativity. It’s a ritual that nourishes my spirit, cultivating inner peace, self discovery, and inspiration in its delicate balance.

–

Through meditation, we sit with what arises,
learning to stay present with our thoughts,
to breathe into the pain of our experiences.

No longer fleeing discomfort,
we meet our fears with open arms,
letting them speak, letting them go quietly.

The thoughts, the worries, the pain;
all given the mental space to exist,
but no longer bound by our need for control.

We hold them lightly,
and as we loosen our grip,
until they all begin to drift away.

In this stillness, our healing begins,
slow and unfolding,
a lifelong journey until we are reborn.

We embrace the unknown,
finding peace in the spaces in between;
holding on and letting go.

— Sincerely, Boris

#growth #mindfulness #meditation #writing #reading #peace #lettinggo #stillness #creativity #selfdiscovery

Mandii Morbid Oct 18

Leave me on the shelf.

Words they dance on paper, as my body loses strength.

My mind it races onwards, as my soul feels it may fade.

This pen keeps on writing, as my heart forgets to beat.

Every time I open up, another piece of me is ripped from my story.

My binding is bent and worn, with every page torn.

Once I was a fantasy, a story they could not wait to see.

As they read right through me, skimming every page-
the words for volume two, slowly came to view.

Drafts are left unfinished, the story more diminished.

Lonely ink spots, point out the unraveling plots.

I can write all on my own but I wanted to collaborate,
each new character felt like a twist of fate.

I studied every line, every single quote.
Looking for deeper meaning, but in the end it's all they wrote.

No after word, no biography-
not a single explanation as to why they never chose me.

Here's my dedication, I should always put myself first.
I am the author and the story, never unversed.

As long as my words are still written, this light inside could never be fully hidden.

Bring me home, if you want to write in permanent ink, if you won't leave me to myself.
Those that cannot understand and truly love the novel I am, then please I ask all you borrowers, just leave me on the shelf.

#story #love #unwritten #draft #lonely #leaving #selfworth #author #writing #lovemyself

Tania Carvalho Nov 7

I Miss

I miss the fervor with which I used to write
I miss the way words would dance in my mind until the perfect combination fell at my feet
I miss knowing more than a few good cliches and metaphors
I miss the desperation I had to explain every feeling, to describe every moment, to relish in something for longer than I experienced it because memory fades and I need the possibly exaggerated details to grasp onto
I miss not feeling brain fatigue after writing two lines or reading a single chapter
I miss the overwhelming desire to see my ideas come to life and become something other than a vision that will haunt me before I go to sleep and become lost in nightmares and lost hopes and reminders before I jump off the cliff jolting me awake just to be surrounded by complete darkness when I open my eyes just like the true ending to the fall I was just shy of landing

#longing #miss #sad #desperation #writing #relationships #love #heartbreak