|Bored with my own normality, I've written
a hundred poems from
a hundred points of view.
My flashlight never illuminated
monsters whose pulses bore the rhythm
of my next poetical masterpiece.
I've snatched at prompts with
desperate gratitude, but I never
stole your horrors and rebranded them.
I never lied
Posts from This Journal “poems” Tag
They use words like excessive, spoiled and indulgent, but the magic of Christmas is watching you light up, wide eyes, huge grin, with each…
Story told in the guilty face and welling eyes, illustrated with each scattered shard reflecting the glitter of tinsel and fairy lights. No heated…
Synonyms for wet - only the rhythm varies - winter's bleak refrain.