The pressure to do it right….
The pencil shivers in my moist palm….
The bare paper laughs at me….
I strive to do it right….
...
Your warm lips whisper and smile
The key to my lonesome days
Your blue eyes like gentle waves
Bring affection to my heartless dismay
...
Cheerless gleaming eyes
Sniffling enveloped nose
Press a button and the mouth opens
Eyes closed at night
...
I'm young compared to everyone else here. i'm only 13 and i live in canada. its nice, ive got a big family and i love school, im in the 8th grade. i started writing poetry when my teacher assigned it and i wanted to know what the best poets could say about my poetry. i truly believe that all the poems ive read on this site are incredible and should be published! well its been fun.)
Pencil And Paper
The pressure to do it right….
The pencil shivers in my moist palm….
The bare paper laughs at me….
I strive to do it right….
And the words finally emerge….
I scribble them down as if I have moments to live….
The paper pleads for me to stop….
But I can’t, I just can’t stop….
Here it is!
My scribbles have become prose.
By: Nahla