poetry is life, a small piece of life, put into words.

this is my poem for a contest i'm entering.
if you have suggestions, let me know(: ((i'm gonna come up with a cooler name(: ))


Writing - Meghan Carpenter

Writing is a dangerous game.

I have found that,

on most occasions,

they don't go quietly.

they can rage like a thousand wild horses,

and you have no idea

how to wrestle their stamping hooves,

or their rolling eyes onto the paper.

Or else, quiet and ghostly butterflies,

that will not be pinned to wall of cork, gassamer, or ethereal.

they slip through your fingers like sand,

and you cannot explain anything.

occasionally, they fly with so much zeal,

you don't comprehend just what your words mean.

you forget that what you have said, you can't take back.

they stab and shred the tender heart and you lose a piece of who you are.

Sometimes words call to you, siren-like,

with their eerily enchanting song,

on to sit

and describe the water while watching you drown.

But, some mornings, I awake with words blooming like flowers in my throat.

and when I open my mouth,

they fly like a fleet of doves,

until there are poems scattered all over the ceiling.