I Write Poetry When I Am Inspired

Not every inspiration is a good one...I was inspired to write something after I miscarried my baby earlier this month.
This may not look like poetry to you, but the way it flows is poetry to me.
 
We never knew you...

When my muse awakens, it is a rush. Words just flow endlessly from my mind to my fingertips. Barely a thought.
Trancelike....
Spellbound...
Inspiration is a fleeting thing, and when I don't have it, here I sit. Always trying to spark it...

Well, i have an assignment due tomorrow for my AP lit class. It has to do with the india unit and we get to be creative. Since i'm lazy and out of time i'm writing a few poems inspired by a book we read. Siddhartha -Herman Hesse...

dont know if this makes much sense,  I nearly lost myself trying to be myself all of my life I,ve been playing the game. Gotta get out of myself, lifes not real when your in a dream. Hang on to your head and give it a try...

Sometimes I just get this overwhelming desire to express my feelings, and a poem (or a story) is born.  The words come flowing from my heart, out through my fingertips and dance across my keyboard.  It hits me out of nowhere...

I used to write some when I become sad... I wrote exaggerated scenarios that are tragic so that I could let out all the negative feelings and after reading them, I realize that my problem was so little to what it could possibly be. Here...

I write poetry when I'm inspired
But when will she come
Soon is what she always says
But I'm left alone to ponder
And tear up my dreams
Sometimes I'm afraid the she"s
too beautiful to be with someone
as ugly as me.

The thought of me and you has opened the door to my heart. For that door has been tighty closed,held with all my might. When you get close to me I can feel the warmth of you, and with that feeling, I can let go of my feelings that have...

The world, so beautiful yet so cruel, so peaceful but full of raging wars. Every smile is led by a frown. In the darkness I see it. I see the peace. But when night turns to day. I’m just another girl born upon a grave. Are we not all...

you had your chance
it was your last.
i'm tired of putting up with your crap.
i trusted you
i cared and stuff
but now its done with. that's enough.
my hate that i've saved
that i kept bottle for so long for so many others
its yours
my...

when I'm not.I just like writing. Poetry, stories, essays, haiku, limericks; whatever.

the shower of sunshine falling through windowshope is there never blocking our goalsfears and torment hidden in night and dayswhen the glamour breaks life's just a play...