Hello! I hope you’re having a wonderful day so far 🙂
I’m going to be doing something very different from anything else I’ve done on this blog before–sharing a piece of original writing that’s not a review. Honestly, sharing my writing is something I’ve always wanted to do, but have always been scared of. I’ve also always thought that the kind of writing I would partake in would be prose, but recently I’ve realized that poetry comes so much more naturally to me and is something I’ve been doing off and on for most of my life without even really realizing it. Whenever I’m feeling some type of strong emotion, I have the urge to just…write, and that writing is often in the form of poetry. The poem I’m sharing today was written at such a time somewhat recently. It might not be very good, but it’s one of my favorite things I’ve written and I would love any reactions or feedback anyone may have about it. Without further ado, this is my poem “A Word on a Page”:
A Word on a Page
Sometimes each moment
Feels like a word on a page.
So little on its own,
Its meaning defined by its cage.
What if I want the word
To be a story of its own
Instead of analyzing, forecasting,
And finding it a home.
I ask myself,
Does the context always matter,
Is it always so important to
Take account of the latter?
Sometimes I can tell
What’s going to come next.
But in that case,
Isn’t the present just a waste of space?
Sometimes I get caught up,
Drift away from the flow.
The words blur together,
Until all I can hear is so…what?
Each lexeme is incredibly important,
Would say someone more sage.
But what do you want me to do;
Sometimes I’m just filled with rage.
Always looking for meaning,
Instead of just feeling and believing.