Write. Poems - Poems about Write.

Porchlight Theology Some nights you stayed just to see the porch light come on ~ like the world needed one small signal that someone was still home. I asked if you believed in God. You said, "I believe in people who leave the light on."...

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write ...

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It’s raining outside- no, more than that. The rain falls in blocks, thick curtains that turn the world to ash and silver, smothering it in the hiss of splattering drops. Outside my old home stood a bamboo tree, four meters tall. On days like this (when I wasn’t welded to the TV) I’d watch its branches bow and sway, like a fishing rod straining against some...

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best comments written by Maria Williams, Richard Seal, Rowena....

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I find in today's world, books and readers are missing. Where have the readers gone? Why are books so unattractive? Could it be the style of writing or even their covers? Years ago many would share their books with friends, telling them the book was a must read. Does the book hold the reader, or does the reader hold the book? The style of...

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I’m sorry I never fit inside the rooms you gave me. The walls bent inward, doors swelled shut, and I mistook silence for safety. I’m sorry — I’m sorry for every quiet collapse you never saw, for the teeth I swallowed instead of words, for becoming a stranger in the house you built. I’m sorry — I’m sorry for leaving them in the dark, for...

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posters put digits, numbers not words, in what they call poem, trash write...

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The poems that weep with grief The one that bleeds a sadness unnoticed The ones that grieve the erasure of colour I wish I didn't have to write poems To convince you of our pain The one that stains every word on every page The ones that can't bleed out of existence The ones that break and...

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To write a poem is to commune with oneself To share it is to let go ...

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Strings of inspiration swirl through my mind They float and frolic endlessly Until they spiral out of control And eventually get intertwined For I am a non-writing writer, An untameable monster - forever trapped in cerebral stagnation. ...

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Death is always my reminder that living is Temporary, existing or lasting for a limited time; not permanent. That answers many questions of mine. Somewhat like a loan. Something given with the intent of getting it back, usually with interest we are taxed. What happens after we retire our spirits from these skin caves...

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In the stillness of dawn, a primal question awakens, A whisper that dances, a quest that never dampens. On the blank parchment with lines, I lay my thoughts bare, Each stroke of the pen, a truth I must share. You define your font, size, and spacing that is life, In...

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Don't push me to the brink Where life's spark starts to fade, Lest I lose the will to live, And hope's light is betrayed. 27 July 2025 ...

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I think that someone here uses ten pen names, two males eight females...

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"Tingly skies full of surprise oh how I love when with surmise, the little rascal aims his dart as if it were, poetic art!" When I am hit by this cute cupid's arrow, I find myself writing about love and romance. I will never fight it, I must enjoy this feeling and write on. When cupid's arrow aims for...

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