Learn more about other poetry terms

In an instant, I knew I wasn't alone... Carisi felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She felt a dark presence behind her
The onyx of my eye confesses on this page:soft and torn with a leaking edge,My breath sinks into creamy lines:a fusion of cursive, print,and shallows of wine,My lashes accumulate dust
A star in the sky, A spark in my eye, A lady so strong, is not here any long. An inspiration for all, Is now forever gone. You left us without a word, You went away like a bird.
held in your arms,  i am delicate im wrapped in the  warmth of you i can hear your  heart beating and oh god the smell of you is my favorite scent to smell. your arms hold me close
She liked control.  Because as long as she was in control. She could determine what happens. So she would push people away And soon enough she only had herself.
Your class was the worst thing that ever happened to my poetry Every night my homework was to spill my soul across a page Telling my class stories and truths I wish I could forget And every class when I turned in my poem
What is it like to be her? Never sure of what to do; Unsure of every decision How to describe her? Fickle, Fickle, Fickle   She can never seem to stick to one path
Rings stretching from East to West formed in the crimson skies, Glowing pink, orange, and yellow above the setting sun,
With this paper and pen I turn my pain into an artistic expressive manifestation Thoughts strewn across the membrane of each cell That identify as my being  
  The familiar thwack of shoulder pads colliding filled the air. My heart pounded from the run over. My eyes searched for him on the field. Then I saw the familiar skinny, much too pale limbs,
Ideas, Jumbled in my head, pulsating, spinning, swirling I look at the blank document, white space Music lightly decorating the room Fingertips tingling, a quick impulsive burst of energy thrust onto the screen
There are days that I findI do not identify with the me thatreflects in the sight of others.Lost in my subliminal mind,when ink spills and pen is broken,my quiet tongue is the ripple
Subscribe to creativewriting