The Art of Writing

by -] ñØ òÑé [-   Oct 12, 2008


You know its rather amazing to me after all of this time
I've never composed a poem that I thought could ever rhyme
I've never wrote anything that satisfied the writer in need
The maniacal heart that has released these words from me

I thought that it was my charm, the way I worded everything wrong
Perhaps it had brought me a story that went on for far too long
The unrequited author in this novel that remains never ending
The search for the keys to a heart that knows of no beginning

I continued slaving away with this pen in my right hand
The journey to draw a picture in words she would understand
I started with my anger and pointing my finger right away
Unanointed to the reality that I didn't know what to say

Soon it all started to come together and I had a masterpiece
I hurried to post it on Myspace in hope of my sweet release
I would tell her all of the things I wanted and how I cared
But I found myself in a situation where nothing was even there

She read over my piece for the reasons I'll never know why
Then told me poetry was dumb and mine was just another lie
I made my way back to the table and found myself out of words
For how could I capture imaginations if I couldn't capture hers

Years have went on and I still stumble drunken to my chair
With the words I possess but words I might as well not share
I think to myself often about the days when she were mine
And I wish to paint a masterpiece, with words I'll never find

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Latest Comments

  • 8 years ago

    by Ixora

    How beautifully written. you seem to find the right words when you dont search. keep writing you seem to be a very insightful individual.

    -Lilith

  • 8 years ago

    by kelleyana

    I like this prose. My favorite stanza is this"She read over my piece for the reasons I'll never know why
    Then told me poetry was dumb and mine was just another lie
    I made my way back to the table and found myself out of words
    For how could I capture imaginations if I couldn't capture hers". A poem is an art, like a paint. You poem might not be of interest to this person, simply because she'd seen the words with her eyes but not with the heart. I enjoy my read. It merits 5/5, keep it up, kel.

  • 8 years ago

    by Skyfire

    I especially loved the last line...and I think you pulled off the rhyming very well.

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