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the death of me
by Shonda Chrissonberryi am tired of looking at a blank screen
that damn cursor teasing me
or a blank page
mocking me with it nakedness
they are leviathan in my soul
~ this leviathan being of course
the 2nd definition
mentioned in Webster's~
these words inside of me
SCREAMING
to be born
tearing at me from within
i fear by the time they make it to
c
o
n
c
e
p
t
i
o
n
then to
b
i
r
t
h
there will be nothing left to give
no where to go
so they rotfesterspoil
until all of me is gone
and they are all i have
04/04/2007 Author's Note: i write because i have to
Posted on 04/05/2007
Copyright © 2026 Shonda Chrissonberry
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 04/05/07 at 03:03 AM Shon, I find when I try to force the words out of me, they don't come as easily. Let the words come to you. You'll get your best ideas when you least expect them. Honest. This is a very good venting poem. And yes, I do feel like this sometimes.
~Chelle~ |
| Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 04/05/07 at 12:27 PM ah yes...been there...actually, still there, my dear. have lots of little notes jotted down in my journal and about a dozen half-formed and ill-conceived poems on my notepad. and i write because i have to, too. |
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