Notes About The Poem
If you asked me four months ago if I liked to create poetry, I would've laughed in your face. I've always thought that writing wasn't my thing. I'm just 14; poetry isn't something for young people, right? That's what society wanted me to believe.
But then, one rainy afternoon, I found myself with a pen in hand and an empty notebook before me. Words flowed like a secret river, and phrases formed effortlessly. It was as if my thoughts had been waiting for this chance to escape, and suddenly, poetry became my unexpected companion.
I realized that age doesn't define the connection one can have with words. In the verses I penned, I discovered a way to express feelings that seemed too complex for ordinary conversation. It turned out, poetry wasn't just for the literary elites or the older crowd; it was a language of emotions that anyone, even a 14-year-old like me, could speak.
Now, I find myself eagerly crafting lines, weaving my own narratives, and embracing the beauty of words. Turns out, poetry isn't bound by age or societal expectations; it's a universal art, waiting to be explored by anyone willing to let their thoughts dance on paper.
scape
In the world of poems, where words make a cozy blanket,
I run away from real life, finding comfort in the ink's set.
Poetry, like a magical wand, turns everyday things into dreams,
Making verses that help me escape from life's stressful streams.
As I play with words, I step into a different land,
Following paths in my mind, where my thoughts expand.
Each word is like a friend guiding me on a trip,
Taking me away to a place where worries don't grip.
Describing things with special words, like secret doors,
Showing hidden parts of my mind, revealing more.
Rhyming words are like echoes, making a peaceful space,
A safe spot where I forget about work and life's race.
My pen is like a map, helping me explore,
Drawing places I've never been to before.
Verses are like wings, lifting me up high,
Taking me away from where expectations lie.
Words aren't just marks on paper; they're whispers in my ear,
Talking about feelings and things I hold dear.
They can make me feel better, or maybe a bit blue,
A kind of music that plays with my feelings too.
In this world of poems, I wander without a plan,
Exploring words and phrases, like a happy nomad fan.
When life gets heavy, and things seem too real,
I find peace in poetry, a comforting, magical deal.
Copyright © Ariana Pataki | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment