"proofreading" poems - Hello Poetry

i never have liked uppercase i's i know it's absolutely stupid but they always make me feel more important than others like i'm always saying I, I, I. see even that was weird way too many eyes so i spend half my days, proofreading my lines to make sure that i'm exactly the same size as everyone else when i first met you it absolutely blew me away to find someone else who lowers their eyes i'm serious, it's amazing to find someone who wastes as much time as yourself hitting backspace, and cursing auto-correct for not allowing this behavior but after a while i noticed you stopped with the i's maybe it was around the time **** got weird maybe it was a fad; or i have some absurd superstition but it's cool You always were the bigger person, anyway.

0

Mar 11, 2014

Mar 11, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC

kodis

is my punctuation just a waste of time?

i never have liked uppercase i's i know it's absolutely stupid but they always make me feel more important than others like i'm always saying I, I, I. see even that was weird way too many eyes so i spend half my days, proofreading my lines to make sure that i'm exactly the same size as everyone else when i first met you it absolutely blew me away to find someone else who lowers their eyes i'm serious, it's amazing to find someone who wastes as much time as yourself hitting backspace, and cursing auto-correct for not allowing this behavior but after a while i noticed you stopped with the i's maybe it was around the time **** got weird maybe it was a fad; or i have some absurd superstition but it's cool You always were the bigger person, anyway.

19

People proofread because they want to find their errors. People find errors so that they can correct them. People correct them because they want perfection. People want perfection so that society will love them. But there is beauty in errors. There is beauty in the flaws, not only on paper, But in the flaws of your person. There is beauty in the rawness that comes with lack of Proofreading. Perfection is overrated. Perfection is unreachable. Perfection is what stands between you and your dreams. Perfection is masked fear. Maybe it's just me, But I would rather see someone's raw imperfections, The things that scare them, The things that they's rather hide, Than the picture perfect image that they create, With Proofreading.

0

Nov 30, 2014

Nov 30, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC

kailey-browncy

Why I Refuse To Proofread

People proofread because they want to find their errors. People find errors so that they can correct them. People correct them because they want perfection. People want perfection so that society will love them. But there is beauty in errors. There is beauty in the flaws, not only on paper, But in the flaws of your person. There is beauty in the rawness that comes with lack of Proofreading. Perfection is overrated. Perfection is unreachable. Perfection is what stands between you and your dreams. Perfection is masked fear. Maybe it's just me, But I would rather see someone's raw imperfections, The things that scare them, The things that they's rather hide, Than the picture perfect image that they create, With Proofreading.

18

The time we spend on Blank pages and paper Is like throwing money Into empty spaces. Minds racing and clocks ticking Pen on paper Fingers on home row keys. Scrolling and spacebars Ink and led. FOCUSED.... The next thought Is the next word Pronouns, adjectives, verbs Periods, commas, question marks. Proofreading and backspacing Fiction or fact Intensity and excitement Intelligence kicking in. All day long phrase catching All night long remembering I can do this, I can do this I will finish what I started. Brainstorming vs distractions Silence vs noises FOCUSED..... Speaking without talking The passion of your work A thousand pages A million words Pen down Typing ends. Time to rest The body and mind, It's done....but More on the way. Results, two thumbs up We think We work We spend time We fill up pages We....WE ARE WRITERS

0

Jul 28, 2015

Jul 28, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC

Cliff-Smith

WE ARE WRITERS

The time we spend on Blank pages and paper Is like throwing money Into empty spaces. Minds racing and clocks ticking Pen on paper Fingers on home row keys. Scrolling and spacebars Ink and led. FOCUSED.... The next thought Is the next word Pronouns, adjectives, verbs Periods, commas, question marks. Proofreading and backspacing Fiction or fact Intensity and excitement Intelligence kicking in. All day long phrase catching All night long remembering I can do this, I can do this I will finish what I started. Brainstorming vs distractions Silence vs noises FOCUSED..... Speaking without talking The passion of your work A thousand pages A million words Pen down Typing ends. Time to rest The body and mind, It's done....but More on the way. Results, two thumbs up We think We work We spend time We fill up pages We....WE ARE WRITERS

41

I’ve gotten use to broken promises from the girls who used to pass notes with me in fourth period geometry when the teacher wasn’t looking. The crumbled up pieces of notebook paper coated in scribbled words disguising the secret nicknames we gave to the guys we didn’t want anyone else to know about still lay scattered throughout random, dust covered boxes in my bedroom. I’ve gotten used to the whispers from those in passing who claimed to only wanted the best for me as long as that meant proofreading their papers and being available whenever they needed something. Holding their hair back from the after effects of the bonfire Saturday night knowing they wouldn’t even remember I was there come the morning light. I’ve gotten used to being second compared to those who have more. The red ribbons and second place certificates coat the walls of my house serving as a constant reminder to push harder but know there’ll always someone else better. I’ve gotten used to lustful words from the boys who claim to love me as long as my leggings and white t-shirt are lying on the floor of their bedroom come Friday night. The radio always seeming to play the same song which you sang to me that first day. You reminded me that I was more than whispers in the silence, broken promises, and love shown through violence. I drive past the road leading to your house signing the same song about how I’m doing just fine but this empty bed is something I’ll never get used to. It lacks the warmth of your body filling the vacant spots mine weren’t touching. It’s missing your extra pillows that used to speckle the sheets like raindrops on the pavement outside. I’ve gotten used to the winds and the sky not always being blue, but I could never get use to how I lost you.

0

Oct 12, 2017

Oct 12, 2017 at 9:31 PM UTC

byjustjess

Soundtrack of a Memory

I’ve gotten use to broken promises from the girls who used to pass notes with me in fourth period geometry when the teacher wasn’t looking. The crumbled up pieces of notebook paper coated in scribbled words disguising the secret nicknames we gave to the guys we didn’t want anyone else to know about still lay scattered throughout random, dust covered boxes in my bedroom. I’ve gotten used to the whispers from those in passing who claimed to only wanted the best for me as long as that meant proofreading their papers and being available whenever they needed something. Holding their hair back from the after effects of the bonfire Saturday night knowing they wouldn’t even remember I was there come the morning light. I’ve gotten used to being second compared to those who have more. The red ribbons and second place certificates coat the walls of my house serving as a constant reminder to push harder but know there’ll always someone else better. I’ve gotten used to lustful words from the boys who claim to love me as long as my leggings and white t-shirt are lying on the floor of their bedroom come Friday night. The radio always seeming to play the same song which you sang to me that first day. You reminded me that I was more than whispers in the silence, broken promises, and love shown through violence. I drive past the road leading to your house signing the same song about how I’m doing just fine but this empty bed is something I’ll never get used to. It lacks the warmth of your body filling the vacant spots mine weren’t touching. It’s missing your extra pillows that used to speckle the sheets like raindrops on the pavement outside. I’ve gotten used to the winds and the sky not always being blue, but I could never get use to how I lost you.

34

I boarded a flight without intention on leaving. Awaiting to see the sights I only dreamt about with someone I truly cared about. I didn't care about the condition of the plane. The tape stretched across the seat. That odd rattling sound each time the wind picked up. The experience of going somewhere new was all I cared about. Taking the time to plan a voyage across the sea. Maybe I should have taken more precaution. Proofreading the Manual once more before taking flight. Just once more to make sure I knew what each control did under any circumstance. Boarding the plane. Caught in deep thought. Smiling behind the captains seat. Just before taking off good All my hopes, all my dreams came crashing down. Being caught in a swirling gust of wind. The lights across the dashboard lighting up. I fought every instinct. Ignoring that feeling in my gut that kept telling me to turn back. Still. I boarded the plane thinking that the only reason I feared not wanting to leave was for that of another. Constantly grounded most of my life. It came natural. A sudden fear arousing the very same gut feeling. Lost in complete panic. My world now spinning fast. Tumbling down to the ground

0

Feb 21, 2017

Feb 21, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC

kewayne-wadley

Tailspin

I boarded a flight without intention on leaving. Awaiting to see the sights I only dreamt about with someone I truly cared about. I didn't care about the condition of the plane. The tape stretched across the seat. That odd rattling sound each time the wind picked up. The experience of going somewhere new was all I cared about. Taking the time to plan a voyage across the sea. Maybe I should have taken more precaution. Proofreading the Manual once more before taking flight. Just once more to make sure I knew what each control did under any circumstance. Boarding the plane. Caught in deep thought. Smiling behind the captains seat. Just before taking off good All my hopes, all my dreams came crashing down. Being caught in a swirling gust of wind. The lights across the dashboard lighting up. I fought every instinct. Ignoring that feeling in my gut that kept telling me to turn back. Still. I boarded the plane thinking that the only reason I feared not wanting to leave was for that of another. Constantly grounded most of my life. It came natural. A sudden fear arousing the very same gut feeling. Lost in complete panic. My world now spinning fast. Tumbling down to the ground

26

When proofreading the print upon the milky white pages of my story, you appear often, circled in red

0

May 26, 2022

May 26, 2022 at 12:25 AM UTC

SCHEDAR

Proofreader

When proofreading the print upon the milky white pages of my story, you appear often, circled in red

6

She's done Finalizing her first poem Happiness shines from her eyes Sharing a excerpt from her Train of thoughts Was a part of her dreams. She gleams in joy While proofreading it Cause she believes everyone Can relate to it But it's been 15 hours Since she posted it 95 views but no one's reacted to it Not even a like or a do better Next time comment Self esteem has shaded a dark veil over the spark of creativity Now she just scribbles scripts That never make it to the editors cut Doesn't come out from her room Anymore Her best friend now is silence For as she says, He allows her to speak

0

Feb 26, 2019

Feb 26, 2019 at 10:08 AM UTC

Hilla254

Poetic Artifice

She's done Finalizing her first poem Happiness shines from her eyes Sharing a excerpt from her Train of thoughts Was a part of her dreams. She gleams in joy While proofreading it Cause she believes everyone Can relate to it But it's been 15 hours Since she posted it 95 views but no one's reacted to it Not even a like or a do better Next time comment Self esteem has shaded a dark veil over the spark of creativity Now she just scribbles scripts That never make it to the editors cut Doesn't come out from her room Anymore Her best friend now is silence For as she says, He allows her to speak

23