Long On writing and wordswrite Poems
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I love a lot about who I am....
A Mistress who has come into her own
A sister that LOVES her sisters no matter what
A friend who will fight to the end for loved ones
A hard worker that does what needs to be done
A mother who REALLY misses her cubs
A lover...enough said there
An ex wife who would love to be mean
A moderator who has to be fair
A college student wanting a new career
And I am a poet....
A poet that writes MANY different ways
I write happy and sad
I write fantasy and haunted
I write about my past and my future
I write humor when I can
I write how I want and when I want
I write for me and for others as well
But MAKE NO MISTAKE...I will not
Change any of my work because it
Does not make sense to you...
You see some of what I write is not meant
To make sense in a logical way....but hey
If my work or that of any other is not to your
Taste...you do not have to read what I write.
I am a poet...a poet who will write what
I want any time and any place...that is what a
Poet does....we write poetry that is for us
And makes sense for us......
I will take the good comments as well as the bad
Just do not expect me to change for you.....
After all I am....A poet......
The quest for written expression
displayed through the writer's pen
is a topic I find fascinating
as I write of it again and again.
Whether writing of scenes around me
or the wonders of an awesome God,
to not write for any length of time
is of course to me rather odd.
It is in the painting of each canvas,
using a palette of colorful words
that I find I am delivered
of each thought that I have heard.
But the writer's quest for expression
sometimes comes so naturally to mind.
Yet, no matter how it is I get the job done,
when done, it's as a treasure of great find.
Douglas L. Ace
An open book, an empty page.
What will I write today ?
The written word, a productive gauge
of that which the heart wants to say.
Leaves blowing about in the windy breeze,
bringing forth words from within.
Colors begin to adorn the trees
and to not write of this would be a sin.
The silence of the early morn
nurtures that space of time to reflect
on moments in my life from when I was born
and memories I'm longing to forget.
I choose to see beauty in the day
and let my pen write of the same.
All about me wakes to the sun's first rays
with more ideas for this writer to claim.
Douglas L. Ace
"Roses blossom during winter"
Though I've tried to write a thousand times
On the deepest, darkest feelings of mine
I couldn't..
Reality was my passionate friend then
We lived together, ate together, danced together
Slept together..
My shadows were no longer my companions
Even when lights fell on me;
I was blissful, gallant, happy and free...
Days passed on;
I grew up from my childhood
I saw and felt things that were inexplicable:
'Memories' was all that I had got then,
I could no longer reveal to my pen..
Yes, it was a disgrace
Disgrace for my insatiable soul!
That I just couldn't write anymore!
Incomplete verses
Here and there;
Tore my heart,
Gave me the scare..
Am I lost? Am I dead?
Can I no longer be the one who fed
On words, feelings, beauty and love?
Am I gone like the stars above?
Answer me,oh! God..is it true?
That I'm a dead creature in this green and blue!
"Help me, someone!"- I cried like a wimp:
"Oh! please someone spare me this guilt!"
No one answered, not a single soul,
I was lost, dead, barren, alone,
Dead were my dreams
Dead were my smiles
'Memories' that I had
Were forgotten rhymes...
~~Thank You for the reviews and comments~~
I sit and stare at empty page
my mind a big black hole
my pencil sharp and at the ready
as if I’ve no control
then words begin to form
my pencil flits and flies
and rhyming words, oh how
my mind is really tried
It kind of makes my head rush
I do not want to brag
but writing never seemed more fun
than in the days of “poetry tag”
When poets gathered in a room
a topic then was given
the poet pounded out a poem
like they were truely driven
I miss those days of poetry tag
inspiration came to me
on fairy wings and moon beams
hearts bared for all to see
Fot Matt's Write now contest
started at 7:22pm and finished at 7:33pm on August 20 2008
I write long hand.... :-)
How to write so fast
Does it have to be so good
Off course it has to be decent
And certainly not to be rude
The use of decent letters
Makes the poem flow and flow
Then the writes are read
And watch our comments grow
Once our words are read
Our writing gets around
And because were on the Soup
Our poems will soon be found
For entry into Matt Caliri's " Write Now " contest.
Written listening to Preacher Man Blues by Gary Moore which is 5.57mins
The time had hit 3.48mins when finished, and i sat back and enjoyed the rest
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life3.php
Sometimes I've stopped and wondered
As I write from day to day
To spread ones wings and fly
And let the anew have their say
There are so many horizons
In the distance of our lives
To spread ones wings and fly
Where new writing newly strives
Audiences abound our globe
Where fresh learning's can be found
To spread ones wings and fly
Maybe there's a common ground
Topics to capture young thoughts
Like fantasy and the dark
To spread ones wings and fly
It would be churlish not to be a part
To write and grow with tomorrows kind
Is to enjoy the enriching road
To spread ones wings and fly
And settle into a new abode
Writers and poets so
Are to be read, and to aim for print
To spread ones wings and fly
And capture the readers glint
Sometimes I've stopped and wondered
More so, very recently
To spread ones wings and fly
And to find where ones writings to be
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/writing.php
I think that I’ll try to write one of those poems that doesn’t rhyme,
The poems that I like to write tend to rhyme all the time.
Oops, not a very good start.
Be creative. Be descriptive.
Use flower scented words that escape from the reader’s strawberry stained lips like soft
snowflakes on a still winter morn and hang in the air like a single feathery sword from the
deliciously soft down pillow on grandmother’s feather bed after a playful tussle with my
angelic son.
Oh yeah, that works … Not.
A subject. I need a subject.
Think, think, think.
Something that would be interesting to read. Or something that is witty and funny – laughter
is always good. Or something that makes people think and ponder and put their finger to
their chin and go, “Mmmmm”.
I usually read these kind of poems and can’t figure them out,
I am left wondering what the heck I just read about.
Hey, that rhyme was a mistake – it happened on its own.
Oh, who am I kidding, I can’t write this kind of poem!
It’s hard being old-fashioned. But, hey, that’s who I am. Besides, no one ever reads my
poems anyway. I’ll bet you are not even reading it now.
So much for the witty humor – bet you didn’t even notice it.
Oh well, think I’ll go write a poem – one that rhymes.