Essays Poems - Poems about Essays

You wish me to write, To create something grand. Something for a purpose that I have yet to understand. Something I don’t care for, Nor something I like. But still I am forced, Against my will to decide. Let me write of love, Let me write of hate, Of anger and pain and times that have changed. Let me write my soul, Put my heart on...

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Why I Love Writing Poetry? Did I mean why I love writing poems? Nevertheless, I love writing poems or poetry: To simply have fun, make others happy, Inspire and defend others; to fan the flames Of fairness, and to seek justice, fairness for the weak, The innocents, the underprivileged, and the sick; I can go on and on until I lose consciousness. I...

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Please Pogo music, wake me up. The night, now reduced to warm laptop light, is inching toward dawn. I pray to the patron saints of writers - is it Neri or Ávila? Whichever is on call I suppose. “I’ve indulged in reprobation,” I confess, openly to the fuzzy, waxing, crescent moon. “I need that alchemy that...

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We have to write a lot of essays and I love it - the twisting of words, the molding of nouns and verbs until thoughts are clear and paragraphs sit symmetrical and idealized. I’ll write a paper, and scowling, write another version and another - lavishing them with attention until every word is perfect. I miss handing in papers though -...

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Dad you told me that life was like chapters, had that, got it- but I think we live books ! Sad, but also lovely to think this way, mad, crazy- we have within us notebooks ! Essays written on eternal pages, malaise and happiness for us to find ! Gaze at, or re-live that moment again, maze - is...

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The Dead Essays Today I wore all black But there is no funeral procession. So I just went to work and sat at my desk Before piles of essays which need to be read, A red pen in my hand - Because I am old school And the students can deal – And it would seem that women Of...

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Pale sun, gray sky Shadows long on the wayside Bright lights inside Words hide Closed door Balls of paper On the floor You don't give I can't take Ink still in the pen Page still blank Empty mind The past unkind Half-dead Half-mad Lending life to men long left. Did Cavour hinder the process of Italian unification? NOOOOO!...

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