A poem I wrote about how many poems I was writing.
Exhausted Fingers
Scritch scratch
The words
They wont stop coming out.
Scratch scritch
They keep flowing-
They're not slowing down.
Skitch skatch
I don't know
If I love it
Or hate it
Skatch skitch
This feeling-
I just can't shake it.
My emotions spew out
In terms I don't know.
The words- they don't stop,
They continue to grow.
The letters just
Keep coming my way
I can't stop writing,
I'm wasting away.
One,
Two,
Three poems
Four.
I am afraid
I'll keep writing more.
In these poems
My spirit lingers
I can't stop
These exhausted fingers.
dvapoetic
Good write...you are not alone...they wake me in the middle of the night!
Good write...you are not alone...they wake me in the middle of the night!
samanyan
so naturally written ...a natural flow of words
so naturally written ...a natural flow of words
JoAnn McGrath
Ride the wave!....poetry ebbs and flows...
Ride the wave!....poetry ebbs and flows...
robyn selters
It gets rather like that, doesn't it... Addictive and we feel compelled to get it all down and express these pent up emotions and share them... It all helps. :-) Good on you.
It gets rather like that, doesn't it... Addictive and we feel compelled to get it all down and express these pent up emotions and share them... It all helps. :-) Good on you.
beautiful piece of work.