Damn Poetry...
Inside me
I can never just dream
It’s always reciting
A narrative
Of everything I’ve seen
Places I’ve been,
Strangers and friends…
Unending dialogue,
Some people dead
It doesn’t matter
To the Narrator—
He thinks they still live
And they talk to me
Happily
The way they once did
I wrote my first book
Searching for my voice
And could barely
Hear myself
Above the noise
So don’t ask me
How to write
Or be unique
I’m still searching
For myself
In all that ink
But one thing
I can say
About struggling to be—
That voice inside my head?
I discovered
Was me.
The simplicity and genuiness of this is remarkable.
thank you, lydon - so kind...
This is absolutely touching. I love your work please never stop.
I appreciate that, @zboyd
Hmm, thinking, trying to play it to my reasons. The real you is the voice speaking and connecting all the memories and people. Deep words you put up.
Nice one
writers are constantly told to develop their own voice, their own unique style, and in the end that comes down to being who you are :)
You are unique indeed. The voice in your head must be praised! What a lovely poem to read
thank you for you kind words, Frieda
Good poetry
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This Poem Is Awesome I Like It.
thank you
Thanks for Reply.I request You Plzz Upvotes my comments and I invite you to my blog if you want as your wish.
Yes. This. 100%
All the voices: the good, the bad, the cunning, the sad... They are all bits of us and our experiences, aren't they? Now... where the heck did my muse go? She's been quiet for far too long.
ha ha, I never lose a Muse - I have two of them - Deb and our tabby cat, Thomas (aka Muse Cat )
This is what just popped into my head...
When my boys were much younger and they were acting up, especially after I had a long day at work, I'd hold out my hand and say, "Come here and just smack your head upside my hand. I am too tired for this nonsense." I think that's what my muse it telling me now. LOL
I love it :)
Beautiful poem dear