A/N: Wednesday poem by Sarah Doughty. In my mind, it’s the story of a tough break-up. What do you guys think? 🙂
I was born in limbo,
a purgatory of
your making,
but over time,
I’ve transformed
it into paradise.
© Sarah Doughty
Source: Transformed
Tag: Poetry
Today
A/N: Another beautiful micro-poem by Sarah Doughty
Today is not
your day
to give up.
(Things I tell
myself
on repeat.)
Source: Today
Pennies
A/N: Strong and powerful poem by Sarah Doughty!
I picked up your loose change and counted each penny,
cherishing them like they were made of gold.
© Sarah Doughty
Source: Pennies
Bullets
A/N: This lovely extract is re-posted from Sarah Doughty’s website. Follow the link below for many more of her wonderful poems!
Forget what your parents told you.
Sometimes words can hit you like bullets.
© Sarah Doughty
Source: Bullets
One; Mother
A/N: I will most likely read this poem again in a couple of weeks and cringe. If you guys cringe as well, I suppose it’s as good as reaction as any 😉
And furthermore; Happy Birthday, Mom!
The world is still new and I stare with eyes from The Tinderbox.
Marvelling over snow crushing beneath me, sun warming above me.
And that little sound the microwave makes, when the minutes are out.
And over the dog; greeting me with a cold, wet snout and a wetter tongue.
A Wonder by S.M. Bednarz
A/N:This post is about my thoughts about the stanza structure of a chosen poem. The poem I’ve chosen is A Wonder by S.M. Bednarz. See the poem underneath. I have in no way contributed to the making of this poem, and you can find more free writing of the author on the following website:
https://samuelmbblog.wordpress.com/
The Devious Trash Can by S.M. Bednarz
A/N: This is a review of one of the scenes in the prose poem The Devious Trash Can by S.M. Bednarz. The first part of this text is his work, and I am in no way creditable for it. If you’re interested in anything else of his writing you can find it for free at:
https://samuelmbblog.wordpress.com/
The Poem The Devious Trash Can:
I wonder what it’s like to be a trash can. A can of trash. It’s standing to my right. As I write this I can only make its crimson colour out of my peripheral vision but that’s enough to keep tabs on it. And I can’t help but wonder. Of course the obvious reaction is to feel disguised, to feel used by mostly everyone, who past. Am I talking about what it’s like to be used for trash?
Room Without Doors
A/N: Hi everyone! So here’s my first poem. I usually don’t write poetry, but is was actually quite fun and I hope it has kept a bit of the quirkiness I like so much! Enjoy!
Room Without Doors
In a room with no doors,
Sat a man without hope,
On a lone chair, forgotten,
With no plans to elope.
The Symbolism of The Question Mark
As you are reading The Question Mark by Gevorg Emin, it seems clear that the author of the text was speaking in a symbolic sense. I will argue why The Question Mark is about the loss of the certainty of youth and the growing sense of reflection as one grow older. I will also point out an example of how The Question Mark is about the author’s melancholy at the thought of such a transformation. I will use examples taken out from the text as arguments for this claim, and thereby point out the symbolism hidden in the author’s choice of word.
Maria Sjöstrand 