sadness is all i know my sweet laugh is gone my loving smile has faded. tears hit the windowsill the sun hides behind the clouds just like my smile hides behind my tears. i have only memories the good , the bad. my smile will return in the end i look around but i don't see the darkness of death i see the brightness of my life past
You know, not every piece of effective poetry is meant to carve its meaning through taut, formal structure and clean scansion. Now, I think it's nice to know about these things before you violate them wholesale; but if poetry is anything it's the defiance of language and convention in service of something higher: chasing after the small, rare truth of a thing that can't be gotten at any other way, maybe. Only you can decide; only you know how credible it is for you as a writer to swipe away accepted conventions of English in favor of the slap-dash, the stylistic and the stream-of-thought.
Writing is a wonderful, maddening dance; first with yourself, then with your reader.
You know, not every piece of effective poetry is meant to carve its meaning through taut, formal structure and clean scansion. Now, I think it's nice to know about these things before you violate them wholesale; but if poetry is anything it's the defiance of language and convention in service of something higher: chasing after the small, rare truth of a thing that can't be gotten at any other way, maybe. Only you can decide; only you know how credible it is for you as a writer to swipe away accepted conventions of English in favor of the slap-dash, the stylistic and the stream-of-thought.
Writing is a wonderful, maddening dance; first with yourself, then with your reader.