I sat in the orange chair attached to my desk, twirling my tan wooden number two pencil between my fingers, impatiently waiting for my teacher, Mrs. Hope, to begin class. I was anxiously giddy. I want...
Poetry is my beloved Who At times
I forget to feed Not because of spite But the fear That my words won't bring anything nutritious
Poetry is my sail And when the wind is low I give up
But what I must ...
My black pen
It's got me through rough times.
Like when I tried to write this song
Couldn't think of any rhymes
On my skin flowed the dark ink
As I sat and started to think
Why are the lyrics still no...
Write! Words perceived as grains of sand, the pages they fall on the world. They create beaches, deserts, great storms of sand carried on the wind. There is an ocean of words defining perception, crea...
Choose words that describe
But somehow still hide
The facts of what you are saying
Don't come straight out
And talk all about
What your poem is meant to be playing
Leave something to the imagination
This office is like another world
A large computer dominates the desk
Papers stack up beside it
A disorganised mess
Books are strewn about in wild disarray
In fact the room is nearly overwhelmed by bo...
Here is the start of my love affair with sharing with strangers (you guys), what I do to keep myself sane so that one day, a kid may read some of this crap and be inspired or get a good laugh out of i...
I suppose this is a poem or something
But my thoughts won't stay in one place
I try to organise and rationalise
But my words are an abstract mess
Like melted crayons forming some kind ...
I'd like to write a poem.
Something moving, something wise.
I'd like my words to linger, long after my demise
I'd like to write of daffodils and lonely, wandering clouds
of sailing ships, and daring q...