At no point in my life have I ever thought of myself as a poet. Most days I could not write poetry to save my life. But once in a while – when in a highly charged emotional state – something that resembles poetry drips from the point of my pencil. None of this has ever been published – or even submitted anywhere – but I thought I’d toss out a piece or two and see if it floats.
WALLS
This poem is being considered for publication by a poetry Journal (shock and amazement) and so can not be displayed here (unless they turn it down)
Paul
March 8, 2013 at 9:10 am
I like it. Not exactly my view but, does well getting the thought across.
Makes me think of my perspective on life and death as well.
Allan Douglas
March 8, 2013 at 6:36 pm
Not my view anymore either, Paul, (thank God). It was written long ago in a galaxy far, far, away.
Richard L Wiseman
March 10, 2013 at 7:53 am
Life is like a prison and I felt the emotions your poem expresses when I was a young atheist and yet when Jesus found me I felt some release. It’s hard to keep close to Jesus, but there is freedom in his presence.
Stuart Nager
March 10, 2013 at 8:23 am
Let your pen drip, Uber. It drips with passion.
Allan Douglas
March 11, 2013 at 11:34 am
Thank you for the encouragement, Stu.
Lost in the Fog « Allan Douglas Allan Douglas
March 15, 2013 at 6:02 am
[...] At no point in my life have I ever thought of myself as a poet. Most days I could not write poetry to save my life. But once in a while – when in a highly charged emotional state – something that resembles poetry drips from the point of my pencil. None of this has ever been published – or even submitted anywhere – but I thought I’d toss out a few pieces and see if they float. This one could be considered the flip side of the coin for Walls. [...]