Poem's Ink River

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
You can tell I don't have much faith in myself. If nothing else, I am my own worst critic. Creative writing poem. Amazingly, this is the poem that I got the highest grade on...

Submitted: December 28, 2009

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Submitted: December 28, 2009

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I stink at writing poems
I can never find a pace
How’d I become a musician?
Only by God-given grace

I stink at writing poems
Because of low self-esteem
However, becoming a writer,
Is my greatest dream

I stink at writing poems
The page remains blank
Should I choose another hobby?
Another class to take?

I stink at writing poems
And, perhaps, even prose
Like a dried-up riverbed,
The ink river never flows

I stink at writing poems
A never-ending puzzle
As many pieces as the stars
The words collapse into rubble

I stink at writing poems
Not one of my few talents
They become abandoned
Like frail, dying plants

I stink at writing poems
Should I just give up?
But simply letting go,
Sad to say, I cannot

I stink at writing poems
I’m never satisfied
What should I do?
Should I still try?

~Carina~


© Copyright 2017 Carina. All rights reserved.

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