— Ptolemy
To celebrate national poetry day and Wordjar’s 20,000 eBook reads we are holding a competition. We want all applicants to submit a free write Haiku on any topic they wish by 23:59 on October 11th 2012. The most creative and intriguing Haiku will win. The winner of this competition will get the…
Mentally orchestrated fingers, pull the strings on a caressing on the aches within the dark recesses of my mind.
I am but a child of intelligence, without ignorance. Deeming the meaning of good riddance, heart felt.
Mentally struggling, as my heart beckons for cuddling. Still struggling against…
(Source: diggsxiii)
Wordjar is proud to announce that plans are in motion for our sixth atnhology, which will be known as ‘voice of the city’. The theme of this anthology is London . We would like poets to write us a poem that encapsulates how they feel about and perceive England’s capital city. We want your pieces…
— GHETTS - VENOMOUS TONGUE
Inside a poet’s soul, lies the poet’s sole purpose:
An internal verbal dialogue…
Comprising argumentative articulations;
One to fear no judgement yet to cast down judgements.
To provide fitting testimony to each and every one of my individual prejudices.
Prejudice against those who chastise my command of words.
Prejudice against those who have ever had the last word in an argument.
Idle rebukes!
Comebacks that take an eternity to perfect.
And forever need refinement!
I write about battling both sides of myself,
But as time passes, which is right between the fighting…
Words or deeds?
Mind and body forming a truce and working to a common goal, expression.
I write about being irate… And
I reign over the page with poetic justice.
I fear no scrutiny.
I am master of self and my words prove to be the court jesters.
Humouring the King,
I.
A complex ruler; from which I draw the borders of my land.
Segment my articulate reality into regimented lines.
Battalions of verse, battling for equal voice.
Where they are all both peasants and gentry.
With equal footing and a firm foundation for success!
The pleasantries are disposed with.
I serve up my raw emotions, and beg you to tuck in!
Wishing for a humble diner.
Yet the wistful wish for my dish is that everyone stomachs my words,
Yet for no one to truly understand them.
If they understand me, then I have become too comfortable within the kitchen.
I do not seek a recipe for success!
And so I write about standing out.
I believe I am different from others.
And I, with this belief, I stand tall.
Of course I write about ‘I’ and somewhat,
Other less important capital letters.
The majestic majuscule stamping out my often downtrodden notions.
Every capital is carefully measured, I write because YOU KNOW NOT THE WORTH OF WORDS.
They say a picture portrays a thousand words…
I pose within my prose.
For I wish to capture snapshots of my mind:
Encapsulating a moments spirit.
My pens ink forms an ocean of feelings.
Where my ego is waived and borne afloat far from my grasp.
And…
When I am done, from my lofty seat of judgement,
The poets soul gazes upon an extended autograph.
As I write, I sign my life away to the paper.
Entrusting it to the hands of the reader.
A scripted contract; outlining my sincerity.
Yet I am not afraid, because no words can encapsulate my being.
The irony is I am all too willing to try and try again.
Knowing that those who I refine for are none the wiser,
So how do I define ‘a poet’s soul?’
A poet’s soul = 50% your own words and 50% others imagination…
Everything that is written, but more importantly…
The words that were left out.
Words by AR.
The writings of myself, AR. I have a love for language initially and beyond that the intricate subtleties of transferring my disjointed thoughts onto paper. Much of what I write is highly strung, imagination wise; however simple at heart. I try to shy away from the 'boring' and 'obvious' when writing, so it's best you prepare yourself to be utterly confused.
Connect the dots
