I have broken myself down into my most basic parts. That which makes me up, that which tears me down. Solid and headstrong, for only I, know what's right. Prone to such weakness and indulgence even so, For I want more than to survive. To one end of nature, or the other end of nurture, And back again. The middle ground is a filament invisible, A tenuous thread that holds me together. That I can neither see, nor feel, n...
It’s 3 o’clock in the morning, and her creative brain is racing, racing once again. The house is soundless and dark. During those lonely hours, that dreamy state, she finds herself talking to Maya Angelou, the master poet, the one who possesses language, wisdom and light. She asks for guidance, some inspiration, that jolt, that will appear and fill all those sad, blank pages that wait for her, inside her writing room, unt...
In a fog of dread, I'm cast awayTo drift unnoticed through the bayOf timid flame, and fight forgotI clutch the mast of “I cannot”But deep inside, the embers burnWith trial and error, I slowly learnA thousand thoughts, a journey longTo build a furnace oh so strongThen my spark, I'll re-igniteOut shall pour my blinding lightAblaze inside, I'll be that manWho stands up tall and says, "I can."
It was back to 16 years ago, Guixiang had married to his beloved wife of neglect the secular remarks. When he met a woman whose name was Xiulian, a graceful name. She had divorced from her previous marriages twice already. He fell madly in love with her, by the time he was only 21 years old. And he was suffering from the eyes disease at that time. His parents extremely annoyed at their romance. Seeing his lady was rej...
Every Writer Needs His Muse - Adrian Gabardo It's the little things she does, the way she smiles, the way she looks at you, the emotions your heart feels every time you get a glimpse of her shiny dark hair. That warm feeling that runs through yours veins, every moment you think of her, that turn your humble words, into the majestic masterpiece they together form. Every writer needs his muse, that is true. Every writer nee...
"I think that poem was about me. I mean, us?" "No. Don't think so. I just write stuff from things that inspire me. It doesn't have to be about real people. No, it's not about you, or us." "Okay. Just seemed familiar. Like you were trying to tell me something." "No, no. We're just friends. No. Of course not. It's just a poem." "It's cool. But, you know how he is." "Hey, we're just friends. I know that. It's good. I just wr...
I have no inspirationjust don't know what to writethere isn't any poemthat wants to come out rightYet I can not endure thatI have to hold a penand when it touches paperit starts to flow againjust random thoughts and picturesand words, all roaming freeI'm reaching out to grab thembut they keep escaping mestill, I have to go on writingof the sea or of the shoreor shall I write about the woodsI don't know anymoreSo I'll keep...
I can do this No I can't Don't say that word Over again I chant I bite my lips Fidget my hands Sweat dripping everywhere From that workout dance Fear shows up Not now! I say loudly No more disappointments I want to be proud of me Staring at the enemy The image of a beast A taunting monster One I am desperate to beat I close my eyes In search for courage Philippians 4:13 Pops into my storage I open my eyes I no longer see...
