art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Existence
Imagine a world without me... A world where my smile was faded, my eyes were grey as an old woman's hair, where my body was floating like a feather when it falls from a beautiful bird... imagine me without freedom, with my broken wings trying to fly back to the highest mountains, a day when it misses the sun, a night when It has lost the moon, an amazing garden that ended up losing the most precious flowers, where the bees got vanished and leaves dried when autumn arrived. Imagine a world where my heart was locked and frozen inside, where my soul was trapped in a maze full of sadness and my mind was cloistered for years, now.... imagine a world where I exist, your world... imagine me in your reality, in your life! Imagine me... Alive!
By Sónia Mendez Fullmoon8 years ago in Poets
Get Better
I've been told the only way to get better at writing is to write. How can I write though when the words escape me? Fluttering away before I can place pen to paper. Before I can grab a napkin and scribble out the words of untold truths. How can I write? When my best ideas are nothing but shadows on the wall, placed by the full moon and blurry eyes. When the stories and feelings only come to me in dreams and then as soon as I awaken they fade away as the night does at dawn. How can I improve? When the only word I can use to describe a hallway is dim. Dim like the author attempting to create a bland world completely void of color or inspiration. When each word becomes an agonizing torture for not only the hand of the author but the brain of the reader. Yet, still, here I am trudging along. Pushing word after word as if my brain is nothing but a factory of toys destined to be sold for nothing less than pennies a pop. When in reality the ink used to write these words are more valuable than the words themselves. Perhaps, I am nothing but a hapless fool doomed to forever view myself as an untalented hack or maybe someday some light will be shed on the words and thoughts I've strung together and I will at last feel as though I have made a slight improvement. Time will tell. Until then, how will I write my next piece?
By Christopher Foster8 years ago in Poets
