Diamonds Of Emotions, Poetry by S. Rachele Chappell

I got a pocket full of pains,
A purse of crumpled up notes,
A journal of words where my poetry rains,
This is where my heart and head struggle with their votes.
They may not find a compromise,

Genre: Writer, Artist

Diamonds Of Emotions
by S. Rachele Chappell 

I got a pocket full of pains,
A purse of crumpled up notes,
A journal of words where my poetry rains,
This is where my heart and head struggle with their votes.
They may not find a compromise,
but in the end find solace.
It’s when my pen meets paper,
that the madness becomes flawless.
Diamonds formed of pressured emotions,
and years of tears that could form oceans.
It’s funny how when I write a poem,
I understand myself the most.
It’s when I see the words on paper,
My thoughts are not a ghost.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

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Life: A Writer’s Purgatory, Poetry by Lauren Kruczyk

I’ve survived the labyrinth of trial and error,
and have concededly accepted the nomenclature
of a writer in either timid self-proclamation
or through overly proud avail.

Genre: Artist, Rhyme, Life

Life: A Writer’s Purgatory
by Lauren Kruczyk

I’ve survived the labyrinth of trial and error,
and have concededly accepted the nomenclature
of a writer in either timid self-proclamation
or through overly proud avail.

Though the words do not yet slide
off the tongue in quite the way I’d like,
I have,
once or twice,
believed the words to be true.

I stagger, rejection mocking me,
wallowing in self-pity,
as I envision with such banality
the proud smirk of those who believe they possess such talent.

But without this treachery,
one could not be a writer;
the all-encompassing double-edged sword.

It is a rare skill
to strike a sensible balance
between hope and lack of delusion.

Those foolish enough to herald self-righteous decree
and clench tightly to a proud belief
that there is no room for improvement in their work
have already failed.

These fools will “comfort” you‚
that I know for sure.
A special kind of compassion served with a hearty dose of pity and a sprinkle of condescension.

I often wonder what this bliss must feel like;
pouring our souls into the world,
yet never truly at peace.
We crave notoriety; yet live as hermits.
We want to possess humility, yet feel deeply special;
like no one else in the world.

And with that creeps in undeniable tragedy;
the weight of our pain intends to break us.

A catch-22 it is;
our troubles arrive as if they were a magnetic force.
But if backed into a corner,
a writer will forever choose tragedy.
That is our cross to bear.

Yet in the slight moments when we rise to a purer place,
we settle upon the realization
that through every teardrop,
the vast feeling of emptiness
must be worth it after all.

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

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The Writers Curse, Poetry by Ganzart

The writers curse
Tagging around like a lady’s purse

Set to always sail on the seas of fiction
continuously sipping of self-deception
Alone is the crew on the ship of imagination

Genre: Rhyme, Artist

The Writers Curse by Ganzart

The writers curse
Tagging around like a lady’s purse

Set to always sail on the seas of fiction
continuously sipping of self-deception
Alone is the crew on the ship of imagination

Hands chained by the illusions of his mind
Bound to always fall for the “one of a kind”
Yet in his pocket lies the key to the solution he never finds

In his greatest fear lies his wealth n treasure
The power of his words he still can’t measure
And their inevitable outcomes pain or pleasure

sinking deeply in the beauty of art
If wishes were horses , carved on the walls of his heart .
You can’t help the tearing apart
When the pen and paper have to part.

The sweet seas of fantasy
were all just a mistress
That sour cold reality
Is the jealous wife in he kisses.

The writers curse
Another blessing in disguise
Read between the lines
And look through water aiming for the skies
And find God present in his verse.

The writers curse , impossible to reverse

Ganzart

 

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