#twcpoety

[tellherium]

exit wounds

[sonreyes]

//photo courtesy of: Angela Deane on Instagram//

[goneahead]

Rules:

Each poet tagged writes the next two lines of the poem using one of these prompts:

unfurl, nature, wayward, ardor, shrine, whisper, lyrics, mystery, shadow, fate, floats, faith, silence, distance, outside

then tags another poet. (If you’re too busy, just repost with ‘pass’ and tag another poet) Poem is done when all the words are used!

Earthen bound. Small, green, tender,

my hands and mind unfurl slowly

tagging @distilled-prose !!!

[pseudomenudo]

Drained

I think I’m done trying.

I don’t think I should feel this way

I’m done trying to please people

Who don’t care about my

Own well being

I think I’m done with turning

A blind eye

And feeling like I’m

Walking on eggshells

Every time

I’m done with the

Land mines

And hours spent

Waiting to hear back

Extended arguments

That take hours or days

To resolve

I’m done with not knowing

What to expect

Day after day

And overthinking my

Own actions

Just so I don’t

Hit a nerve

I’m done with the sleepless nights

Hating myself for things I didn’t even

Know about, consumed by my own

Insecurities and self-doubt

Without reassurance, without consideration

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around

To hear it, does it make a sound?

I’m done feeling tired

And hurting my feet by stepping around

Constant spikes

I’m sick of treading lightly

And feeling like I’ll never

Be good enough

I’m fed up with never knowing

What type of mood they're going to be in

So I’m always tiptoeing around to find out

And that feeling of dread or hesitation to

Interact with someone

Just to be met with hostility

Or deadpan expressions.

The tension, the anxiety

The excessive self-monitoring

It’s draining

I think I’m done.

[trans-writes]

i fell for you like Icarus-- bright, burning, and helpless to stop (and loving every minute of it) the water in my lungs tastes like longing --r.a.b.

[ellenya]

One day, one rhyme- Day 2285

Asked Siri to find a bookmark

But she misunderstood,

She searched instead for a book ark

But the mistake was good.

Now in my mind I’ve built an ark

With two of every book,

We’ll sail on it when the world ends

And in a cosy nook

We’ll sit and read each one of them-

Away will flow the stress,

We’ll spend what’s left of all our time

In utter happiness.

[heartofmuse]

Want to talk about self-doubt? Yeah, most of the time I wonder what I am even doing here. Can I even truly call myself a “writer” or “poet” or am I just a very good mimic, an imitator, as my ex once called me, not the real deal. Do I have any real talent? I don’t know. I just know the need to pour out my soul. Are my words any good? Do they mean anything at all? The same words used by so many, so many times! What makes them special? What makes them mine? Do they even belong to me? Can I claim ownership?  They were here before I came and will be here after I leave. I mold them in my mind like clay and they take shape in the most exquisite, the most bizarre and the most unexpected of ways but always they hold a bit of me in them so in a way yes, I think I can claim ownership. Do I need validation? I think I do. I think everyone does in some shape or form for we are social creatures at our core.  I think every writer writes in some degree because we long for immortality so we leave pictures, and stories that we shape and mold in our mind with words. They will endure long after we are gone for man is always more finite than the written word.

e.v.e. (Self-doubt) 

[mouththorn]