part of making poetry is making bad poetry. and i don’t mean that you can’t write, of course you can, you know you can (you’ve seen it), but great poets are not always great poets. often there are terrible poems - for one reason or another it’s just not there. maybe it doesn’t convey what you need it to or maybe it’s not strong or maybe when you re-read it you just hate it.
this is all part of being a poet. of being any writer, honestly, but especially poets. you have to be okay with writing poems that don’t fit your own criteria, you have to be okay with writing poems that ultimately lead to nowhere. you have to be okay with writing absolute shit because sometimes through all that shit you’ll get some good shit.
writing poetry is all about writing shitty poetry, too.
and don’t let the fear of writing badly stop you from writing. writing badly is better than not writing. writing a bad poem is still creating poetry.
so go out there and write all the bad poems you need to.
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I was off Tumblr assuming I'm off depression but it never was, all I did was stopped writing about it and it consumed me more every second.
Poet was not my call and I just loved depression was something a lay person thought and I tried to convince myself the same.
Love is real and making others happy had been my priority but it felt different when none felt the same to me.
Wasn't a fool but their silence around me made me a clown.
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THE HARE KNOWS
when paint flakes embellish church walls
in the afternoon sun
they resemble lily-white
petals left on a grave
carrion birds nest as the birch calls
them homewards
in a screeching conclave
the trees too know
more than they should
that one day
we'll be tucked in their wood
shaped 5'0 to 6'8 long
hidden from that afternoon sun
in the earth where we belong
and the cycled livelihood
of those carrion birds
and their hunger for thirds
will continue
as they sing their mourning song
and the hare will,
unconcerned, hop along
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may good things find you
may good things hold you
may good things love you
may good things grow you
genevieve.v
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Going to be sharing more of my work today, hope you enjoy it/can find the time to check out at least one of the links I share.
Thanks, here’s a poem about winter.
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Darling, I never
Lost it; it was you who did
Come find me again
— The Muse
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Day 27: Blistered Feet
Jan(us’ Est)uary
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Yuanfen
Anarchistic atheist, you don’t believe
in anything,
Yet you still suck the poison juice
from your Agent Orange tree.
Devotion stains your fickle fingers green
with wax wedding rings,
From gum ball machines pulsating
with a purple putty sheen.
Waves of canned laughter surfing the red rustling sea
never cling,
To wild blueberry barrens
that whisper in the autumn breeze.
Hot pink jingling ice cream trucks begin to flee
from school crossings,
As guards guide children into cages
where they long to be free.
Yellow school buses like great white sharks seethe
and swarm while circling
This hurricane rage swirling
and surging inside my daydreams.
Summer solstice has turned her back on me,
sans solace, leaving
Cracked crystal spiders on windshields
from frenzied fists of fury.
Lost like stray dogs on Praia da Luz Beach,
we’re cross waves rippling
That forever roam with ghosts
of missing girls along the sea.
I never bought train tickets for this tragedy
on hope’s wings –
A passenger in this parade
I never wanted to be.
Poised to jump into a blackhole fantasy
we’re barreling
Toward a land where smoke and mirrors
are what your false prophets see.
Chasing rainbows, your pheromones lure me
back to us, I sing –
O’ Yuanfen! My faith in you
will become the death of me!
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I drank his love like a forbidden elixir,
sipping eternity.
Completely unaware of anguishing future.
I have him in every inch of me, but not his presence.
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’fairy tales’
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"Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place." - Rumi. #communityofpoets #communityofwriters #poetrybyummeaimans #communityofpoetry #contentwriting #poemsindia #poetsoninstagram #theenchantedgirl #penartist #penandpaper #poetryoninstagram #poetryonig #poetsandwritersfeature #evepoetrygroup #writersnetwork #silverleafpoetry #poetscafe #poetsconnection #poetsofthefall #poetsofpinterest #poetsoftumblr #poetsofficial #wordsofwisdom #lifequotes #inspirationalquotes #sufiquotes #sufi #lovetowrite #strongvibes #manifestations https://www.instagram.com/p/CO-ZIA6lTqE/?igshid=144zuhvp1jm4e
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Here are some regrets
Here are some memories
Here's a photograph
Here's a story
From fairytale to nightmare
From peace to destruction
From present to no future
From love to an end
Here's the irony
It was the best
we put it to rest
Here's the irony
The love didn't end
But the relationship did
Crazy how it hurts
Crazy how we messed it up
Crazy how it broke
Crazy how we choose to leave it broken.
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underfoot
you are a sweet october, leaving all
too soon. my favourite seasons always walk
the quickest, the orange garnish falling
without a pleasant ending. i must stop
building homes behind unstable ribcages —
their branches are too eager to change —
and i feel my own bones before they break
like twigs. i beg the clearest skies for rain
but my inner workings do not matter —
i’m not meant to last until spring. you sap
the colour from my leaves, watch them scatter
to the wind. and you, searching for untapped
roots as my own turn to whispers, bitter,
as every season leaves them to wither.
/
25.2.19
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Chasing Something Long Gone Never To Return Again
Folio of pornographic stains.
Tremble like lightning. Fall like rain.
Strike a hammer blow.
Scouring the pots for a light chemical sunshine high.
Now, I'm indisposed.
I am addicted to frostbite and being bitten by mad dogs in the moonlight.
Takes my breath away like crashing through ice on the snowy river.
I am trying desperately; hoping to be fire.
There is no more. But I've always been a liar.
Worthlessness is an exchange value.
Breaking my bread.
What have you?
All of this is inside of your head
And the world is a whirlpool. Ev'rything is dead.
I used to be alive. Know what I mean?
Riding a mad machine towards doomsday
Like everything was methamphetamine.
I'm not here.
I am everywhere.
--------------------------------------------
This is a new day. Where's the action?
Chicken pox or an allergic reaction?
Heard you had a dirty nose.
Delightfully for your satisfaction
Beating Eden with a rubber hose.
Be like them, but not like those.
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My publisher notified me today. My complimentary copies are in production. I am excited to be recieving them any day soon!😄🥂🎉 . . . . . #mustreads #spirituallypoetic #poets #poeticallyspiritual #poeticallyspeaking #poeticallywriting #poeticallyexpressed #poetswisdom #poetsconnection #poetscorner #poetsden #poetsetfree #poetsociety #communityofpoets #poetsdaily #booksofpoetry #bookshelf #reesewitherspoonbookclub #bookclubselection (at Poetry by the Bay) https://www.instagram.com/p/ByGdV1bFPGv/?igshid=1c76sjnu4v4ej
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A little tribute to a literary jewel of Allahabad on his birthday. To respected, Laxmikant Verma Ji. #poets #poetsconnect #poetryclub #poetry #kavi #kavita #poetsofinstagram #literaryjewels #allahabad #hindipoets #classics #epic #life #legends #instapoetrygram #instapoets
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