I want to do more with my poetry. I want to write it more. And let it be seen more . . . because it’s a brilliant way to let off steam, or just to let your feelings out. Some of my poetry has been rubbish. And I mean R-U-B-B-I-S-H rubbish. But it got my thoughts and my feelings out, and made me feel better.
So I’m gonna write it more. Yup.
I just looked on my computer and found the first poem I ever wrote. Ever! Here it is:
Assassins Die, Death ScreamsHe walked along the narrow bridgeLooking for his killThere she wasIn all God’s beautyCrying out in anguish.He snuck around the few trees still standingHis long hands curling, unfurling the death of more treesThe woman looks to him, eyes longing for forgivenessHe cannot do this, his own pride and joyYet he gathered the shadows, and swung them with glee.She shrieks as they strike herPiercing her soulShe writhes in agonyHer body lurchingShe sees him come close. Death.He screams at the lossHis own killing machineHow could he do itAgain and again?A new name on the list. Kill.
That was my first ever bit of poetry, and you know why I wrote it? I was depressed. Severely. And writing normally just wouldn’t help me and I didn’t know what to do—so I randomly wrote the first line of the poem, hoping that this story would finally help . . . and then it turned into a poem because I accidentally pressed the ‘Enter’ button. And thus my poetry was born.
So, as I step up a level in my poetry, why not starts your journey with your own . . . what’ve you got to lose?