I Write

by Daniel   Jan 29, 2019

My mother cried
when I was a child;

I’d written a poem
about harpooned whales,
and how their blood
reddened and diluted
our seas;

my teacher hung
it on the wall;

I read it, shaking
at assembly -

I remember people’s
forced applause
when I stammered

Some part of me,
is expectant,
is perpetually
needing approval,

for what I’m
proud of, but
sure is drivel,
and I cannot defeat
the clamour of
hands beating together,
nor comprehend
this paradox,

“Why do you write?”


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Latest Comments

  • 1 week ago

    by Meena Krish

    Good question and this will have many writers to think
    deeply and widely..well penned and congrats on the win!

  • 2 weeks ago

    by Michael

    Congratulations fella..
    Just read this and you have written in such raw emotional ink.
    Very well penned M :)

  • 2 weeks ago

    by - Mr. Darcy

    Well done, Daniel. It's better out than in.

  • 2 weeks ago

    by Dagmar Wilson

    Congratulations on your win

  • 2 weeks ago

    by Tanya Southey

    Oh wow! I often wonder about the 'indulgence" of writing. I realise though for me it is cheaper than therapy. A way to connect with all that upsets me in the world. It's hard to be sensitive in a world that isn't. Great piece. Provocative and beautifully penned.

    • 2 weeks ago

      by Daniel

      Thanks Bob, Milly, Tanya, Mr D, John, I really appreciate the comments :) this was a really difficult one to write for me, and your words were all really uplifting and unexpected. x

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