Category: Poetry

The Power of a Question

Questions are souls taken shape
Screaming out for someone to put them to form in a way that might breed understanding.

You can look at someone and see the color of who they are,
The spirit of them,
The soul,
But the tragedy of man
Is that you’ll never be able to paint a perfect picture of your own.

I ask questions all the time.
Selfish questions,
Ones that put color on my skin
And warm my bones.

“Do you love me?”

I hold my breath, your response suddenly the difference between life and death

Even though the answer has been uttered countless times before and no doubt will be said countless again

That is the power of a question.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes”

Frosted Glass | Writing Amateur Poetry

Have you ever tried to write poetry? I bet you have. Maybe it was for an English class assignment, and afterward, you either wrote it off (haha, get it? Because writing) or really got into it—like full-on MCR-levels-of-got-into-it.

I had never really gotten into poetry, so color me surprised when a group of prophets (really weird story) told me that not only was I supposed to write songs and stories but also the ever-allusive genre of PoEtRy~.

Fast forward seven years. Not a Haiku to be seen, I found myself in the shower and decided, on a whim, to come up with some kind of poem right then and there. You know, as you do.

Here’s what I came up with. It’s amateur, don’t worry—I’m fully aware:

My shower door is frosted over

Images of a world I’ll never see

My most frequent visitor

A woman

Naked

Falling from a precipice

The height still undetermined.

So… let me know if you hate it. For some reason, I even submitted it to a zine—maybe just to prove to myself that I could.

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