the body keeps the score
i’m frozen
reading the words scratched upon my soul
long before i knew how to read
but now that i’m baked
i’ve got a new take
a new way to remake
and rewrite the wake
so many tears
for so few words
it is on me
to see
and send love
inwardly
my shadow bleeds ink
yet i hold the pen
with these words
i begin again
for my story will be long
with chapters anew
and these words
are so few
the body keeps the score
but the pen holds the key
the paper is the door
so love what you see
begin again
i’m frozen
reading the words scratched upon my soul
long before i knew how to read
but now that i’m baked
i’ve got a new take
a new way to remake
and rewrite the wake
so many tears
for so few words
it is on me
to see
and send love
inwardly
my shadow bleeds ink
yet i hold the pen
with these words
i begin again
for my story will be long
with chapters anew
and these words
are so few
the body keeps the score
but the pen holds the key
the paper is the door
so love what you see
begin again
This poem is inspired by the book How To Write Evocative Poetry
endless
endless waves
endless water
endlessly raging
against an ever changing shore
endlessly hoping
for a peaceful end
endlessly beginning
again and again
then suddenly a splash of cold reality
green and white with a hint of blue
out of my mind and into the sea
physically wet but happy to be
nature showing endlessly more
as endless waves
crash
against the endless shore
endless waves
endless water
endlessly raging
against an ever changing shore
endlessly hoping
for a peaceful end
endlessly beginning
again and again
then suddenly a splash of cold reality
green and white with a hint of blue
out of my mind and into the sea
physically wet but happy to be
nature showing endlessly more
as endless waves
crash
against the endless shore
This poem is inspired by the book How To Write Evocative Poetry
burn these pages
brevity may be the soul of wit
but destruction is the soul of poetry
observe
in your hands you hold nature’s majesty
reduced
to mere sheets of dead wood
marked
by the transient thoughts of one blind to the moment
hoping to inspire a fraction of the awe that its life once gave
burn these pages
and feel the flames as they touch your soul
deeper
than any collection of words ever could
brevity may be the soul of wit
but destruction is the soul of poetry
observe
in your hands you hold nature’s majesty
reduced
to mere sheets of dead wood
marked
by the transient thoughts of one blind to the moment
hoping to inspire a fraction of the awe that its life once gave
burn these pages
and feel the flames as they touch your soul
deeper
than any collection of words ever could
This poem is inspired by the book How To Write Evocative Poetry