Caught up in this thing call poetry, many words I wrote since entry. Am I a poet or just someone expressing, now I have myself guessing. Some of us spill our candy in the lobby, all in the name of this poetry hobby. We hang ourselves out in words, some don't fly away like the birds, they can stick around, to help uplift or bring us down.
Some words are like a ghost haunting, always on a page daunting. Once a bullet leaves the gun, it's too late to scream only fun. Words shot out the end of the pen, express either good or sin.
Yet I have a love for short form inking, some I do before really thinking. After penning a blank page, later on I wonder if it was sage. The nature of my writing deals with life, basically a great deal of my own joy & strife. Who am I and how do I feel about life?
WONDERFUL...Grady...how true!!
--->>Some words are like a ghost haunting,
always on a page daunting.
Once a bullet leaves the gun,
it's too late to scream only fun.
Words shot out the end of the pen,
express either good or sin.
< < < <
Thank you for this glimpse inside the workings of your mind! This reminds me of myself...i don't write for accolades, nor because i consider myself a "poet"...i write because i have to. Sometimes they are better writes than others...sometimes the pen should have never touched the paper! lol. But if someone enjoys one i pen...or it strikes a chord in some way...it makes me happy. But who i am can be found in what i write...each piece, just one more slice of me...and at the end of my journey, maybe they can all be put together and the entire picture of me will be visible. lol. I enjoyed this one!
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
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--->>Some words are like a ghost haunting,
always on a page daunting.
Once a bullet leaves the gun,
it's too late to scream only fun.
Words shot out the end of the pen,
express either good or sin.
< < < <
Thanks for posting this poem contrived of wisdom!
Debashish