Write Poems | Examples of Write Poetry

True writers write from their heart ~ AI does Not have a heart to write with....

Continue reading...

The last poem I'll ever write before I burn this whole system down And if this gets me killed so be it I'll burn down the world If that makes you listen And if you think just because of my skin I'll back down and let you win You would be sadly mistaken I will burn down the system And...

Continue reading...

I write my illusions, not out of cowardice, but from that stubborn mercy I owe to my own spirit that withers under the weight of time, reality, with its arithmetic of pale bones, rarely adds up to salvation, it's merely a tally of sorrows, debts of silence, and interest paid in insomnia, I lie to myself, not to deceive,...

Continue reading...

cursive letters pale fade into weathered parchment— they were stories once....

Continue reading...

When I take off as a raven, the branch wobbles my dark figure melts into the night. No pack, no company aside from the starlights— they were once alive, but now all there’s left are fragments of tears from somewhere above, is it heaven? I wouldn’t know. Wearing shadow of night itself, I glide through the air. Beneath me, a city in neon fire. Cars rush below— one place...

Continue reading...

Your smile is where sunrise sings, Secrets of soft gold. Break the night with silent grace, And sculpt the light on her face. A heat breeze, such a soft silence, The world feels young when she smiled. No poet pen, without the painter's tone, I could hold the brightness that her lips let go. And when she smiles, the stars lean closely - Because...

Continue reading...

Poets have multiple aims, modes, reasons to write, Which may match what readers want downright. Some poets are simply lovers of words and language. How they twist and turn, and meld on a page. Some readers love the sound of words that beat, A tune where rhyme and rhythm softly meet. Some write to teach, profound knowledge to bestow, They search for...

Continue reading...

my gray cells are few my emotions are boxed up a blank page stares back mind over matter allow my fingers to dance escape from my cell...

Continue reading...

I levitated from the lions den I rose to the sky with a golden crown covered in emeralds and diamonds on my head Now it's time to take back what's mine ! I said with fury Another beautiful day! everything that could've killed me I overcame, I am proud to still be standing Grateful for every second and...

Continue reading...

moss embraces stone walls l ...

Continue reading...

As my words "cascade" off my tongue, onto the "myriad" of blank pages. Each letter will slowly "slither," slither into a "serpentine" of sentences. As I stop to read, will the pages "lilt" to me? With tired eyes I see a "nebula" bright night, as I look out my huge window at the "lunar" light....

Continue reading...

After the wife made a suggestion about what to write about... I decided to title my piece a concatenation of a few different notions incorporating fictional romance alluding to myself and spouse in conjunction with hybridization stemming from vague references to tried and true value tangentially sparring with Cinderella but giving the following free verse poem a slight twist and shout. I take the liberty...

Continue reading...

Trees swaying in the breeze, with thick branches hanging over the land, carrying a solemn message for everyone. The roots run firmly into the ground and the extend troughout the town and form a cluster that no one can see, soon or later they will come pining after thee , get your pen and...

Continue reading...

Fingertips fall— not like stones, but like rain, plucked silver threading the air. Each string holds a hush, a breath not yet forgotten. The musician builds— not a score, but the curve of a heron’s wing skimming dusk softly vanishing in a single glissando. The guzheng does not speak. It spills: vibrato, a tide rising then breaking against memory. Sound leans back— not toward silence ——but toward a distant shore we once heard. ________________ Note: Guzheng is a traditional Chinese musical instrument....

Continue reading...

The strong thread of poetry runs through my long years. More precious it grows as the end of life nears. I'll keep reading your poems, and you please read mine, for the hand stilled by Death can't write one single line. ...

Continue reading...