These poems are my ashes,
Spread through out my room.
My life is the fire.
Only last year,
I started to burn,
With a dear friends help.
She is the spark,
She helped me start.
Emotions fuel the fire.
The ashes grow deeper.
This fire grows tired,
Thinks about burning out.
More thoughts blow it away.
Still, the fire keeps burning,
Each and everyday,
The ashes are spilling,
Constantly filling my room,
Still, the thoughts enter,
Am I almost burned out?
Author notes
“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.” (Leonard Cohen)
A contest entry
- Poetry As Ashes by CarolDesjarlais.
1400 points, ended September 29, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
-
I have found I never burn out. There is always a little ember in there that begs to be born again. Nicely penned and ty for entering.
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Relatable
I can so relate to this! (well, probably every single person on AP can, but still...)
It really show the psyche of the poet.
It summarizes we as people!
*AvdW*
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