Poetry’s a soldier
a collection of Spoken Words in Silent Wars
rarely do you see it pull back
it is no coward
it’s weapons are raw
but there is pain
hidden behind the curve of personifications,
and similes there is sorrow
if poetry has one weakness it is this:
that most won’t understand what they think they know
for many, poetry’s just a quick fix for that euphoric feeling
like good sex coming from your words
but poetry is wise
and it knows those who will never conceive
in order to give birth to a revolution….
Felt it was my job to hold every heart in my hands like responsibilities so I cradled you….
until our tears became waves of passion too deep to carry in a bowl
so they filled up our futures like child play
did we let deception play its numbers on our skin?
did we let it gamble with our bones…..
did naiveté captivate our common sense…..
did we know that our mission had a reason too deep to find within the contours of our childlike smiles?
Ok, I admit it. I’m not being as faithful as it appears. I’m actually cheating on my other blog. Oh c’mon, don’t look at me like that, we’ve all been there. But if you’re listening, I didn’t mean to hurt you; I just can’t stop thinking about ThePBSblog. Plus, you don’t entice me to your dashboard the way you used to, I mean, let’s face it, your updates are so in-between we never see each other. And then there’s ThePBSblog….. with its amazing followers, its inspiring quotes and articles, its beautiful poetry and simple design. I mean, we would be up all night drafting potential blog posts together. Before I knew it I was in over my head. It took a moment before I realized I was seeing PBS on the side. I’m sorry ahouseofpoetry if you’re not getting enough attention; if its worth anything I still like you and all, but what PBS and I have together is…..well, a commitment. And I know this is gonna sound kinda freaky, but I really don’t mind seeing you both. I mean, if I have cake, am I not supposed to eat it too?
Like angels are playing on the strings of my vocal cords. Words that cannot remain unmoved or concealed however introverted I am.
What’s YOUR poetry?
“Success is when righteous angels are rooting for you.”
“I’m really starting to enjoy short poems. Though you tease my taste buds with instant melody, how deliciously enticing.”
• Dirty Diapers and Complaining Husbands
Oh you know the feeling. You make yourself a cup of Joe, get back to that switch button, and for the next 8 hours or so (hey, that’s pretty modest), you’ve taken yourself a mini vacation. Where are you going? Who knows, somewhere between Character Development and Turning Points; your only problems are: screaming kids, annoyed husbands and microwaved dinners. You’ve been at that computer so long your one year old knows what a Setting is, (and it’s not from the soggy Wheaties in his diaper either). Your husband has brought over his annoying friend for company (yes, the one you can’t stand), and your nine year old has painted her face pink and red at your distracted consent. Now, I want you to pay attention now because this is important:
The writer herself (yours truly), has neither one year old or nine year old and what you’ve just read is a list of completely made up events but, the fact that you’ve spent the last two minutes glued to these words in order that you may verify this condition is reason enough to count you among the worthy so take a bow, I now present to you the following prescription:
CAUTION: If you’ve counted my every grammatical error I’m sorry but Grammatical Geeks is for another day and this prescription is not for you.
YOUR NAME HERE
WRITER ADDICTION RELIEF 500mg Tab
TAKE ONE TABLET BY WRITING/TYPING EVERY DAY FOR WRITERS BLOCK
***TAKE WITH INSPIRATION