Poetry Challenge Week 23
During my third year at Whitworth University I took a poetry writing class. As one does when they major in writing. I was walking out of a literature class with my friend Isabel when she groaned that she had to stop at the computer lab and write her poem for class. "I just feel so artistically burnt out. God, I sound like such a princess! I'm artistically burnt out." But you know what, I get it. It is really hard when you have an expectation of yourself to sit down and write something beautiful every week. Even if it is something you love and have disciplined yourself to do (writers write, after all) it can be exhausting and difficult and sometimes you have other things that are grasping for your emotional and creative energy. Sometimes that means that your poetry is not going to be great or you are going to sit down to write your poem and spend 15 minutes writing out a single paragraph about how you feel artistically burnt out and need to sit down and evaluate your life so that you are more capable of doing what you want rather than expending energy on small things you don't care about.
Anyway, here's my poem,
Whipers
Loose Lips Sink Ships.
I have a secret.
It buzzes in silence
across my skin,
tingling on my lips.
I have a secret,
it comes out in a whisper,
a breathless voice
letting it out into the world.
Whispers are like waves.
They start small
ripples out in an ocean
they grow with every passing ship,
until the roar
of breaking on the shore.
I had a secret.
It buzzed in silence
across my skin,
tingling on my lips.
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