Tag Archive | poem about writing

#OctPoWriMo (Day 4 of 31) Where Does Poetry Hide?

Oct8

My Words by Crystal R. Cook

DAY 4

(it’s day 8, I caught up, then fell behind, still writing)

Prompt – Where Does Poetry Hide in Your life?

Poetry is everywhere

* * *

It flows round me and within me, it’s in the air I breathe,
it’s in the shadows that I cast, and in my midnight dreams.

It’s in the tears I won’t let fall, and in the ones I have to weep,
it’s in the honest truths, I do not dare to speak.

It’s hiding in my weakness, it roars within my strength,
it’s in my greatest victories, and in my worst defeats.

It’s in my every heartbeat, it’s where my love resides,
it’s in battles I must fight, it’s where my doubt and faith collide.

It’s there when I lose hope, and when my hope’s renewed,
it tiptoes through my nightmares, it’s in my dreams come true.

It’s in my day to day, my yesterdays and tomorrows,
it’s in my pleasure and my pain, in my happiness and my sorrow.

It’s in my stops and starts, and in the breaking of my heart,
it’s with the thing I sometimes fear, may be hiding in the dark.

It’s part of all my ins and outs, and all my in-betweens,
it’s in everything I imagine, it’s in everything I’ve seen.

It’s in words which I have spoken, and those I’ve left unsaid,
it walks among the living, it whispers with the dead.

It lies beside the monsters, underneath my bed,
it’s everywhere I go, and it’s where I dare not tread.

It’s in what I’ve whispered, it’s in what I’ve spoke,
it’s in promises I’ve kept, and promises I’ve broke.

It’s in everything I do, in everything that shapes me,
it’s in the fabric I am made of, it’s in the things that break me.

It’s in what I’ve hidden, it’s in what I’ve found,
that’s where my poetry hides, that’s where my poetry abounds . . .

~ Previous Challenge Posts ~

#OctPoWriMo 2017

Day 1 – How Did You Get here?

Day 2 – We Write Because We Must

Day 3 – Cherita Poem – Metal

#OctPoWriMo (Day 3 of 31)

Oct4

DAY 3

(it’s still day 4, I’ve almost caught up with the crowd! )

Prompt – The Taste of Metal

Write a Cherita using the following prompt as inspiration – The Taste of Metal

A cherita is a form of poetry referred to as hexostitch. It is a 6 line, 3 stanza poem. The first stanza is 1 line, the second, 2, and the third, 3. Cheritas are typically untitled and unrhymed, each cherita should tell a tale.

(Sometimes I follow directions, sometimes I use them as coasters. There is metal in my cherita, it just isn’t being tasted . . .)

* * *

Small metal box, cold to the touch, wrapped in the tulle of an old wedding veil.

Frail and fragile hands caress the top, lift the latch, reach inside.
Watercolor eyes, wet with tears, blink and stare at the treasure within.

One by one she holds them. Word by word she reads them. Each fading page brings memory back to life, she holds his words like she once held his hand, and spreads her wings to join him.

Previous Challenge Posts

#OctPoWriMo 2017

Day 1 – How Did You Get here?

Day 2 – We Write Because We Must

#OctPoWriMo (Day 2 of 31)

Oct4

DAY 2

(really, it’s day 4, still late to the party)

Prompt – We Write Because We Must

Free write for ten minutes stating, “We write because we must”

* * *

We write because we must . . . because the alternative might be madness.

Sometimes words take us by the hand and lead us to the page, we slip off our shoes and dance with them, dance with them for days. We give them reign and let them roam, following were they go, and when we tire, we lay them down, off to rest they go.

Sometimes they beg to rise, once we lay down them down to sleep. We haven’t the time, we need to rest, we pray their souls to keep. Just for a while, precious words, for a while please be still. But with their silent pleas and sorrow, they lead us to the quill.

Sometimes they command, demand attention and release. Overwhelm our thoughts and take control of all our dreams. Not to be ignored, they rage, lest we put them on a page.

There are those among us who can quell the voice within, for others, the only way to quiet them is with a page and pen.

We write to free ourselves, and set others free as well. We write because there’s stories, so many stories we must tell. We write to right the wrongs we see, to fill in voids and blanks. We spread out words before us, and within them, we escape.

We write to soothe our souls, to scream in silent sound, we write to fill the silence with a different kind of sound. We write to find out who we are and what’s inside us.

We write . . . we write, because we simply must.

Previous Challenge Posts

#OctPoWriMo 2017

Day 1 – How Did You Get here?