UnTitLeD #Poetry

in The Ink Well4 years ago

I am the troubled spirits
Running around the ocean bed
Looking to be freed.

I am the whispers
Flirting mid air with a mild breeze
Tell me how not to freeze.

I am the rebellion
Fighting against the norm
As many yearn for such freedom.

I am the pain
Constantly screaming inside
While everyone is busy looking side to side.

I am the fence
Scaling the boundaries put in place
Masking the emotions on the face.

I am the passion
Divinely boiling deep within
Igniting sensual tension under the skin.

I am the wind
Scattering every spoken word
Beyond its intended home.

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°maxxy.

Writing poetry/prose is becoming a task. One that requires my attention centred in a single piece and for someone looking to silence louder voices, I am struggling to channel my alpha voice in a flowing rhythm. The above piece took days.

On one hand the writing feels like it's improving but on the other, I feel like I am losing my grip on saucy stanzas. Who knew even poetry transitions? That poet take breaks. That sometimes they can't make sense of the words they painfully birth.

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This is awesome,like the way you allowed the wind to guide you has you flew through every word in this piece. Cheers.

Thank you for the visit and the kind thoughts. It's appreciated :)

You're welcome :)