On Writing Poems
The words don't come easy
Or sometimes they do.
It depends on the nood really,
Or sometimes the weather too.
At times the blank page stares at you
Not a single word mars the sheet.
You'll be lucky if you put down a word or two,
And that would have been the day's greatest feat.
Now there's this thing with rhyme
The some poets aspire for.
I do it from time to time,
But oh, what great labor!
Write what's in your mind.
At times it may sound silly,
But you'll see, it makes you smart.
Write about anything,
Write about your life.
Write about last night's fling,
Write about your strife.
For it's not how a poem appears
That is more important to consider.
But how you sum up your years,
May it be happy words or bitter.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Martin V (22.214.171.124) -- Tuesday, February 3 2004, 10:25 pm|
I am impressed by this poem, sincerity and truth, not a crayon, in a childs hand. With reality, you paint the rainbow as it is, and accept it for what it is. The color of your heart felt soul, is revealed by your poet's pen. You write with meaning, not superficial, to be pleasing. Your honest pen, macthed with the reality of the rainbow, will always be...., beautiful!
Excellent message Bench
|bench (192.168.0.172) -- Wednesday, February 4 2004, 01:23 am|
Thank you Martin V. It is such an honor to get a comment from you.
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