it’s too wet, too gloomy, too damp
putting me in a bad mood,
I am too annoyed to write
I wanted to picnic today
this storm has ruined everything!
Dang it! Now the lights have gone out!
Even if I could write, I can’t.
The computer won’t work!
This lament is from Linwood, the "wanna be" writer.
Chet, the real writer, heard the lament of his roommate.
as he was scribbling his thoughts onto a paper plate
using the light from the window
noting impressions in a line
angry gray clouds
thunder’s cymbal crash
resolve of the black oak tree to stand up to the storm
“I will write tomorrow!” yelled Linwood. “I am going back to bed now.”
Chet kept writing….you see,
this weather won’t poison a poets pen
because a real writer can write about….
an electrical outlet
a surprisingly fast mouse
a drop of glue
a tiny piece of tape
a teensy crumb from a pink eraser
or their roommates
that is what writers and poets do.
In sharing our time together and loving each other, it is GENUINE. Being in each others presence means more than anything.
I find myself staring at you, reminiscing, and cherishing every moment we have created together.
I count every blessing that comes from the gift God has sent me.
I realize this moment will not last forever, and when that time comes we have to part. Neither one of us will be ready, just the thought of it hurts like hell.
A kiss from you wakes me up from the pain that haunts my thoughts. Its scary for me to even imagine that You and I are falling
apart.
While we are hoping and praying we could stay in these moments together; life shows us that everything dont last forever. But God's plans are always Bigger.
Take time to
Respect every moment. No Drama or Mediocre nonsense. Let's build up on our Good vibes, positive energies, and Live for every moment spent.
Linwood Davis, CEO
NSO Entertainment
There is a road,
Going through the fields,
Filled with cows,
All over the hills.
Through the outskirts of town,
This little sanctuary,
Holds the most beautiful sunsets,
To be found.
There is a road,
Winding through counties,
Beside the interstate,
But still holds its solemn country.
Deer roaming about,
In and out of the woods,
Colours fill the sky,
Clouds begin to flood.
This is the place I go to,
When I'm feeling sad.
I wish the world could see,
But it is mine to be had.
There is a road,
Going through fields,
Filled with cows,
All over the hills.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.