I see how the love in this world takes a backspace
The need for good in this world is in last place
When will the evilness end?
The hatred in this life supports this case
While others will blame, this and that race
How do we stop the heinous rift?
Only together, we can make a positive shift
Return to our spiritual loving roots
From the heavenly sounding flutes
The angels of harmony
Inspiring our soulful philosophy
A gift from our wonderful creator
To set forth the righteous path
Rewrite the history of mankind’s wrath
But we continue to make the same mistakes
Over and over, again
Backspacing
a life of valuable
lessons
Categories:
backspacing, anger, corruption, discrimination, evil,
Form: Rhyme
(by Kristen Bruni For Inspired Contest)
I never choose a place to write
when settling in a new home.
I let the space talk to me
and slowly reel me it's zone.
I find it best to type it first
as my writing can get messy.
Backspacing is much easier
less casual and more dressy.
My sacred place to release my words
is usually on my table.
Where your supposed to eat
yet allows me to enable.
My brain to focus on the beauty
that blooms as the poetry comes to life.
Creating stories and passion
mixed in with hardship and strife.
My space is always snug
as to embrace my creations.
Cozy and peaceful
propelling through durations.
Candles lit illuminate my soul
even if it's light.
The tiny flame reminds me of
poems that will ignite.
My purpose is always
to make another smile.
A short little story
instead of a novel with long miles.
Categories:
backspacing, on writing and wordsme,
Form: Lyric
Contests inspire our minds, mostly I feel.
They quiz my muse along with me so much,
I sit at computer screen; she gapes at me.
My hands start the line; she cultures it.
Writing from imagination, combined,
Along with feelings, old - new moments,
I feel the spirit, I type along the way.
Forward on, while backspacing at times.
Inspiration from themes given - taken,
Raptures my mind-set; until produced,
Taunting me each new day, she calls,
Appealing to this slavery, for both,
Physical actions are mine formatted.
Rhyme, flow, imagery, and style, hers,
Over a decade, eleven years conveyed.
She into mortal world, never known,
Blesses me, her grace each write.
We share poetic deeds, in gracious slavery.
Categories:
backspacing, friendship, life, on writing
Form: Free verse