Write Poems
Reflections of the Self
by Ayatullah Nurjati
As I stand, a poet in an ocean of words,
Unspoken feelings, unheard verses surge.
What is this craft, this calling to write?
Is it light for others or my own plight?
I pen the tales of others, the struggles they bear,
Yet each word I write is a weight I wear.
To live, to serve, to break free from norm,
A poet’s life—a perpetual storm.
......
only his insanity
by Bogdan Dragos
the last time he went out of
his mind he liked it
so much there
that he never came back
not even after the
alcohol left
his blood
he keeps writing to this day
......
Still Rise
by Leigh Yah
For months I've been trying to write
Trying to keep my pace, trying to fight
Organizing my words...it felt like suffering from a concussion
'Cause in scribbling I see no passion.
For weeks I've been trying to read
Fiction stories I love indeed
Thank you, Lori Brighton
I was able to explore the world in a new dimension.
......
to melt the shackle
by Bogdan Dragos
it wasn’t morning yet
but he woke up
to the sounds of cheering
and applause
He looked around
and saw
shadowy figures with
elongated faces
and bright, white eyes
......
cheat code activated
by Bogdan Dragos
Well no wonder he kept dying
or the police
would catch up to him
in the first minute after hitting someone
or stealing a car. The game
was for big kids. It said so on the box. He
got bored despite all the things
he could do and put
the controller down.
......
Reflections of the Self
by Ayatullah Nurjati
As I stand, a poet in an ocean of words,
Unspoken feelings, unheard verses surge.
What is this craft, this calling to write?
Is it light for others or my own plight?
I pen the tales of others, the struggles they bear,
Yet each word I write is a weight I wear.
To live, to serve, to break free from norm,
A poet’s life—a perpetual storm.
......
to melt the shackle
by Bogdan Dragos
it wasn’t morning yet
but he woke up
to the sounds of cheering
and applause
He looked around
and saw
shadowy figures with
elongated faces
and bright, white eyes
......
town of forgotten poets
by Bogdan Dragos
there he was
arriving on main street
carrying a backpack
and a suitcase
both stuffed with
papers
“WELCOME TO THE TOWN
OF FORGOTTEN POETS.”
......
alive today
by Bogdan Dragos
there was a new guy in the park
among the homeless
He arrived just after the mayor had
eradicated all
the tents and improvised huts
and it was easy to spot him
He was the one who
always had a book in his hand, always
......
good and bad poetry
by Bogdan Dragos
Well,
after you write enough
and try to publish for long enough
you just notice it
There is no such thing as
good
or
bad
poetry.
There's just poetry to which people
......
