Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
POEM STARTER
You are attempting a new hobby, but it isn't going well. Write a poem about your frustrations.
Choose a specific style of poetry that would be suitable for displaying negative and perhaps repetitive thoughts!
Writings
Put the kettle on Think of an idea Put away the washing Think of three words Doomscroll Delete your title Can't think of title Think of new title Eat a bag of crisps Decide new title is best Brain hurts Watch TV Log back in Brain empty Have a nap Feel guilty Eat tea More tv Feel more guilty Go to bed Fall asleep Repeat.
I canât choose melancholy As my hobby, obviously, So it will be poetryâŚ
And I tried and triedâŚin vain Wrote of joy, of love and pain One more follower to gainâŚ
WellâŚof course, Iâm not that good, Poetry worsened my mood, I felt so misunderstoodâŚ
Out of spite I made a cake, Ate it all, the cream was fake, Must admit: I cannot bake!
I canât clean and I canât dust And, if sewing is a must, May God help! (in me donât trust)âŚ
âInvisible poetryâ, Better would have been, for me: âUninspired agonyâ!
Yes, you guessed: I wrote again One more poem âbout my pain, Just one follower to gainâŚ
Like it pleaseee! My bad luck break! Or Iâm going back to bake⌠âNother bitter-sour-hottish cake!
Paint brushes scattered on the kitchen table I dab water colors, blend reds and blues Nothing I put on paper seems quite right I turn to a new page and starts again The voice in my head taunts me, âYouâll never be good enough.â âWho do you think you are?â âYour colors are bleeding into each other.â I drop the brush, head in my hands The voices continue. âGive up while youâre ahead.â âHow desperate for a hobby are you?â âNo wonder youâre sad and alone.â I canât stop the words They hit me in the back of my head Bullets whizzing by Landing in my mind And thatâs when it happens. Tears roll down my cheeks and fall to the page I wipe my eyes and see The most beautiful painting Iâve viewed I sigh, And put my paint brushes away For the night.
It was a cold stormy night my burdens were anything but light. I thought the new hobby would fit in but it seemed to toss me as the wind. I couldn't figure out why but I needed to tell this hobby goodbye. Now you're probably finding yourself asking what this hobby is. It's mountain biking from the ridge. I picked it up just for fun but found myself out in the sun. It was so hot and not for me I craved the cool wind from my AC. That stormy night when I kissed it goodbye felt so good. That was a lie. I missed it every hour I knew bike riding gave me power. One night I had a dream it was me, my bike, and a ravine. I tore it up and down this caused me to wake up in a frown. Why had I given up my newfound hobby this was the cause for my sobbing.
Iâve lately expressed a latent interest with chess A new obsession to undress A chest bearing knowledge Driven to calculate the move thatâs next A simple diagram of complexity With no contrast and much diversity The Cutthroat nature of adversity A game to goade out whatâs the worst in me To be anxious for whatâs next To look for meaning in a text That exists in pictures To figure a figure Reconnaissance of competence With connection to Contents of accomplishments To renaissance from blemished odds To stomp a fire From where it starts Itâs occured to me The worst in me Is I lack the sharpness In my heart To purge the enemy From my king For my enemy Is the beauty From the dance In the game we play
Roses are red Violets are blue I want to live life to create But life gets in the way too
You want to perform so high But you need to walk on a wire Or jump on a fire To balance the life you desire
You express yourself to share For all the people to see But you lose yourself in the process As you filter you for everybody
Why canât I just be me Why please everybody Stop all the act that aint true And just be the one and only you
I was 60 I wanted to do something new To get a significant gift
And it looks terrific Something to sit in front of in the evening Quiet steady practices
As if
Where would that time come from? Borrowed from unlearnt languages Fetched from must-read shelves Bought from quick contracts
But Iâve got a set of three finger chords And some heavy reverb bass I never thought itâd be Chopin I can lose myself with less You do what you can In the minutes you find
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