Thur 11: 00PM
Dear Diary,
It's now been 4357 days since I started writing poetry.
It started out so well.
My first poems showed promise.
Now, I question whether I will ever be a great poet.
When I sit down to write, no ideas come.
My latest strategy of writing poems with my own blood is not working out.
Since blood and poetry both come from the heart, I hoped it might help.
It hasn't.
Perhaps the blood of another would work.
The woman in the apartment below me, she seems nice.
We talked once, in the elevator.
I'll ask her over tomorrow.
We have all been there; we who have that enter need to express ourselves in verses of ink made of blood and sweat, pumped from the heart like so many tears, but I have found the famous ones are dead, so write if you must and hope that before you die someone will see your genious. That is my tounge in cheek humor, a little warped, but that is me. Good read. T
the best poetry is the poetry expressed from the heart and that is honest, the rest is up to us individually and the type of person we are influences are style, everyones different and great to some degree, this poem gets a 10 for creativity and honesty, keep trying, words will come :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Looks like it's working well to me. Maybe you should stop counting all......those.............. ........days......(smile) I love your poem and it's ending.