18- Would love feedback on any work. Aspiring writer trying to improve! I do a mix of poetry and prose but mostly procrastinate out of the prose😅.
18- Would love feedback on any work. Aspiring writer trying to improve! I do a mix of poetry and prose but mostly procrastinate out of the prose😅.
How does nothing fit into a sentence?
Loss stuffed into swelling syllables
By a white coated man with
God in his words and pain in his eyes.
Nothing to echo round the empty consonants and vowels,
But the agony of his poor widow's howls.
He died at 5:13am at age 50.
Future folded. Once then twice.
Straining against the torn edges
Of the words.
They say the minute hi...
My city is pompous businessman with jiggling jowls.
It is tired toddlers ' dramatic howls.
It is tumbling, tangling streets.
Recycled air just repeats and repeats.
My city is the panting from endless inclines.
It is the homeless with damp cardboard signs.
It is the quick steps and averted eyes.
We run through our fingers grumbles and sighs.
My city is the rain, storms and sun.
It is a story bare...
She is the kindling.
She is a smoldering promise, dwindling.
She is the hollow vessel where sound bursts to life.
Yet she is born with the tender reverence of a wife.
She is smoky ashes where a memory belongs.
She is a nothing among the throngs.
She is imperfect, scorched with age.
The owner steps to her luminescent cone cage.
She ignites, first notes licking timidly at the listeners like young ...
The first one appeared on a lukewarm Christmas Day.
It’s proud yellow carelessly threw my drab colours into disarray.
It had my fathers laughing eyes painted with a clumsy hand, lovingly unique.
When poked, it released an exuberant squeak.
After that that there was no escape.
They appear when I sleep and when I wake.
My shelves are lined with them sitting wing by wing.
I see yet another one and...
I was raindrops falling
That capture mischievous moonlight.
I was the song of wilting petals
And the waning night.
I am a lost nursery rhyme
That aging souls mourn.
I am flaking around the edges.
Looking so forlorn.
I will fall from the twisting tongues
of scheming poet sparking, blinding.
I will taste metallic like stardust.
Finally doing more than existing....
I sit among my kingdom of cardboard.
Listening to the song of a far away sea.
Once my ambitions soared.
Eyes blinded by life.
But I am a fragment of the shattered me.
Reality is the stab of a rusty knife.
The sky mourns my broken past.
The clouds wash at the earth's shore, a sorrowful grey.
I scour stinking bins, hope gone at last.
I wish for the wind to carry me away.
My calloused fingers dig gr...