Poetry

Hello, my creative critters! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think of this post. I’m still very new to the author world, and not everything I say will be accurate or factual. Even if I research for hours, days, or weeks before I start writing, I will inevitably get some things wrong. Please let me know if anything seems off or if you learned something new today.

Poetry has always been one of my passions, but if I’m being completely honest, I’m not that good at it. I initially got into it in my senior year of high school when one of my friends dragged me along to the poetry club. I would sit and listen most days, and every once in a while, get the courage to read aloud one of my works.

Someone once told me that studying this form of art will ultimately benefit my writing. In my personal experiences, I agree. Learning how to craft sentences that convey symbolism, beauty, pain, and understanding in a single sentence is a vital skill for the writing world. To write poetry is to pull something personal within onto the page. You can get your thoughts across in a couple of lines.

I don’t like most of my work concerning poetry, or at least, the ones I wrote when I was in a good mood. They seemed to lack luster and were not my finest work. However, the poems I made while sad, depressed, or angry were better. From my experience, those are more intense emotions that are cultivated into words on the page.

There’s a saying, ‘Great art comes from great pain’ and ‘Turn your pain into art.” Many people often draw inspiration from their own lives, and pain is a powerful emotion. Some argue that vulnerability is essential for creating authentic and impactful art, as it can catalyze growth and creativity. Some say that their creativity can help them find beauty or meaning in suffering, offering a way to cope with painful experiences.

High school was not a fun experience for me, as you have probably guessed. I didn’t have many friends, and I am more of an introvert than anything else. At home, I was struggling as well, not that I was abused or neglected, but one of my sisters and I did not get along and were in a constant fight for years. It was challenging, and honestly, it didn’t get much better until I moved out. Most, if not all, of my poems were made at that time in my life, and I thought I’d share some of them with you guys!

Be warned, ¾ of the poems are sad and kind of depressing. Viewer discretion is advised.

61 Songs

“Carpe Diem”,

It means ‘cease the day’

“If Today Was Your Last Day”

Then “Make a Wish”,

“Journey To The Past”

And “Rise above”

The “American Noise”,

“This Is War”

“Me Against The World”

“The Unavoidable Battle Of Feeling On The Outside”

“Welcome To My Life”,

“Thought I’d Let You Know”

“The Voyage Of Beliefs”

Has just begun,

“When You Believe”

You see “Through Heaven’s Eyes”,

“Time Is An Adventure”

And nothing is “Set In Stone”,

“The Saga Begins”,

“The Future Is Now”,

“Shine Your Way”

Through “A Thousand Years”

And “Leave Out All The Rest”,

“Becoming Popular”

Is like a “Battle Cry”,

A “Quest”

“Another End”,

“At the Beginning”

Popularity is “Hard to find”,

“The Struggle” to find

“Strangers”,

This is “What I believe”,

This is not a “Perfect World”

So “Shut up!”

“Take Me As I Am”,

I’m “Awake and Alive”,

My “House of Glass”

Is “Broken”

And I’m “Never Gonna Be Alone”,

“Never Surrender”

To the “Monster”

Inside,

“These Things Take Time,” but

“Believe” in your

“Angles In The Wind”,

“You Are More”

Then “Of These Chains” that hold you down,

“Time To Say Goodbye”

And find your “Chant of Immortality”,

It’s “Never Too Late”

Of “Breaking the Habit”,

“Tell Me” that “It’s Good To Be Alive”,

“Find a Way”,

“Learn To Do It”,

“Say Goodbye”,

Learn “The Rhyme”,

“What I’ve done”,

“Chasing Fate”, “So Far Away”,

The “Moment of Truth” is now,

Say I’m “Not Gonna Die”,

And “That’s How You Know”

That “This Is Letting Go”,

The Red Rose

The color red

Is love and passion,

The traditional color

For Valentine’s Day fashion.

We share this color

With people we love,

Roses bright and vibrant

With the color of blood

Have you ever considered

Why the rose is red?

Why we decided that the rose

Would be tears we shed?

The color red

Is violence and danger,

The rose that comes

From a stranger,

Stained with your blood

It lies on the grave

 Of one whom I loved,

Of one I tried to save,

White is better,

It’s pure and light,

But it all changed,

Into fright,

The color red

Was, I suppose,

The blood that stained

The red rose.

Poetry is

This is what it means to me,

Poetry is a way for me to talk,

To tell my story

Before it all goes away,

People see my life,

They think it’s pretty good,

They see a family as close as can be,

But what no one knows

Is what happens within.

Poetry is my story,

Everything I say here is true,

The past, present, and future,

Escaping the reality

That is my life.

You

The voices are back,

Telling me that everything will be okay,

But how could it be?

When you’re nothing

But a nuisance,

A failure,

A mess,

“It’s not true.” It says.

“People love you for who you are.”

It chants its sweet melody,

Wanting you to believe its lies.

It’s beautiful lies.

I am nothing.

Pest,

Disappointment,

Chaos to all around me.

Again, it sings the lie.

“You have so much talent!

Keep going for the goal

And always believe in yourself

Because I believe in you!”

Sorrow fills my heart.

It doesn’t know me at all…

How could it?

I’ll be gone soon,

Why do I care?

Then, it speaks truth.

“It’s not your fault.”

It echoes in my head,

Reaches all corners of my heart,

Body and soul.

It’s not me.

It’s YOU.

Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this and learned something new.

-E.L. Dawn