Bound eternally to my craving
Wanting nothing more than what I ask
A pen and paper
A computer with a key board
Anything, anything that can satisfies my craving
Pounding in my head are questions that go unanswered
What if...?
Why is it...?
How can I...?
Unsatisfied I stay
As I review my pieces of work
Pounding my fist against tables
Tossing chapters and poetry into a bin
Ideas swarm in my head like bees in a hive
But, how can I make them pleasing?
How should I tell my tales of ache and pain?
Yes, I admit
I am addicted to ink on paper
Words written elegantly
The sweet sound of pages being turned
I am addicted to writing and reading.
But, a failure, I see myself only accomplishing.
I can only dream of a hard bound book sitting on a shelf
Bearing my name, written in my words,
Holding my emotions and experiences secretly in its paper corridors
But those corridors remain unexplored by any one but the constructor
The constructor who seeks no praise,
In fear of negative comments
Author notes
This is kinda how I feel... Not exactly though. I do struggle feeling like my writing is good enough to see a publisher, but I don't really hide my writings from my friends and people who will really tell me like it is. I just need to find people who can deal with my come backs.
A contest entry
- Addicted by Velvet Rose Petals.
900 points, ended February 24, 2009, 31 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Be honest and if it sucks, say it sucks.
Comments
-
Original. I'm glad you had the heart to try. From what I read, you are a wonderful artist. Art as in the poem you paint into the readers head. Don't over analyze your work. The best pieces are the ones you just write before thinking, as I have found.
Rose
Great job. Beautifully penned, and i wish you luck.
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