Category: Free Verse

Dear Poet,

Why do you write with such wandering thoughts?   Will you find the words that we think are right? Or wrong?   Where do the wonders of this world hide in that well of ideas?   Please tell me, Dear Poet.

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What is a Poet?

We sit and we stare at the world around. Recording the world onto paper, our pens scratching at the sound.   It feels like an itch that’s too hard to scratch. The idea gnawing away Or an egg waiting to hatch.   We bead together words we can’t say. With a deeper meaning, in its…

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Stone Statue

Steadfast, yet still. Silently strong but secretively suffering. Society smiles, so I smile. Scratching at my sins, they stay. Should I? I shan’t… So, Still scared… Still silently strong but no longer suffering.

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