Feedback,
A poet strives for perfection, with his work intended to reflect his identity. He wrestles with procrastination as he develops each line.
Each verse provokes reactions and anticipations, prompting him to debate or revise his creations, even when favorable reviews are received.
Should I present it aloud, or let it mature and invite others to sample it? A multitude of perspectives can be influential.
Unlike a Sunday buffet, his poem is not the main course.
His work serves as an ode to his experiences, establishing him as a prolific composer.
Author's Note: To be or not to be, that is the question.
**Feedbacks**
A poet must strive for perfection—his work is destined to reflect the world and his identity. With each line, he confronts procrastination head-on. With every verse, he engages in reactions, probations, and anticipation, leading to necessary debates and the reconstruction of his latest pieces, even in the face of favorable reviews.
I will read it out loud, or I will let it simmer, inviting others to sample my work. I recognize that too many thoughts and voices can be influential. Unlike a Sunday buffet, where the meal may be merely average, my poem is an ode—my work is my passion, and I will be a prolific composer.
Author's note: To be, or not to be; that is the question.
decision Buddha
decide there is no mission
i hate light
they will ever speak
never spear my ink's
my ink's compass
truist
again, decide we aren't a mission
tall clouds can't be ware?
limp and mundane wags
know feedbacks
concepts?
forty twenty seven seven sentences
won many to still your next kick
kicks, gone
out of timecards
my autumns a grain
only a single grain
know fame
just independence
“DOOSHIMA” is a thing with layers
That soothes in the soul,
And sing sweet tunes without meaning Yet never stop at all.
And with no dramatic blowout!
It is like onions_
Veins, and layers of meanings!
Just remember to be in a trunk,
So as to ...
Bathe in the tears of your enemy;
Treasure isn’t love but a false god!
For emotions are but feedbacks,
It is ubiquitous, the engine of life
Her attires symbolize sangfroid.
A bunch of love flowing endlessly
To anyone irrespective, sincerely!
Handprints cold,
Heart feels blank,
From young to old,
Family I thank.
As beauty falls,
Short to one,
The baby crawls,
Children have fun.
Wisdom speaks,
Feedbacks plotted,
Saving antiques,
Problems knotted.
Shielding length,
As wrinkles flare,
God given strength,
My life affair,
Leaking fault,
Numbers multiply,
A glare shares halt,
Others walk right by.
I may be old,
But please be kind,
I’ve grown bold,
A critical; instigated find.
Feedback,
A poet strive for perfection
Someday his work will become a worldly reflection
Of whom he is
With each line he procrastinate,
With each verse,
Reaction, pro action and anticipation
To the point
Of debating or reconstructing his latest
Despite receiving favorable reviews
Should I read it out loud?
Or should I let it simmer
And invited samplers to sample my work
Too many mind and voices
Can be influential
Unlike a Sunday buffet his poem
Is not the main course?
His work is his ode
So he becomes a prolific composer.
Author note:
To be or not to be this is the question
your voice...sends chills to my very being.
your touch....tingles and warms my heart.
your presents...fills me with hope.
your eyes...so wonderfuly mezmerizing.
as a mirror has two signs..so does love confuse me...
are you here to hurt me.. or are you here to save me?
**may you please comment..id need some supporting feedbacks...
thank you for eading**
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