Use Your Words

For weeks I have been bursting at the seams with metaphors 

They sit piled in my room with no audience to perform for 

Simple lines, collections of syllables

They are puzzle pieces without a home 

Adrift shards of some much bigger and more beautiful picture 

Poetry used to surround me, it was in my heart and on my tongue 

Now I am losing my edge like an unsharpened knife 

Every day I sit and stare at a blank page

Praying for those stanzas to spill out like they used to 

But they haven't 

It is a confoundingly awful feeling to have so much to say and no way to say it 

When I was little people used to tell me “use your words”

I think I took that a bit too much to heart 

I think now my words use me 

I am nearly suffocating in the rhymes I create, I am having trouble swallowing  

But I have no way to turn these hurricanes into breathable air

All this poetry used to be the glue that held my pain together 

Now it is just as scattered and disoriented as I am 

Please don’t forget about me while I figure out who I am now 

I am trying to be more than my words

Reviews

[Poetic Beauty]

It is terrible when you have the words and the ideas floating in your brain but can’t get them to form together to create what you want. Sometimes like many artist our crafts take over and scream what they want us to write rather than the other way around

[Skylar Lighten]

Oh wow. This really resonated with me on a deep level. It's amazing how you described a feeling most of us writers can experience.

[nadia dmitri]

I am glad it connected with you, thank you for your review :)

[Arundass TP]

Beautifully expressed poem. Enjoyed reading 👍

[emmajoygreen]

'For weeks I have been bursting at the seams with metaphors
They sit piled in my room with no audience to perform for
Simple lines, collections of syllables
They are puzzle pieces without a home'

That might be the case, nadia but I feel that they already know you know their value..

'All this poetry used to be the glue that held my pain together
Now it is just as scattered and disoriented as I am
Please don’t forget about me while I figure out who I am now
I am trying to be more than my words '

Your poetry is proof that you are - already, more than your words: they were invisible until you gave them life and light, luv.

[nadia dmitri]

Your reviews are always so heartful. Thank you for such encouragement and light :)

[Thomas W Case]

Powerful and vulnerable write. Tremendous.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I always feel line my words use me. I feel like a conduit more than a poet.

They play and then tell me what to write...I am a slave to the keys...at their beckon call.
I read this poem and think of Melanie's words. "I am not a poet, living is the poem."

I love this piece.
j.

[nadia dmitri]

Thank you very much :)

[John the Baptist]

Not much you can say about blocks. The muse, however, will not be forced.

[schlanks]

Wonderfully expressed and relatable. A lot of time when I'm writing, I'll look back in my notes for relevant stray lines like the ones detailed here. A lyricist I admire describes this process as hunter-gatherer writing. Perhaps your style isn't eroding, simply changing, as the work you produce is no less gorgeous.

[nadia dmitri]

What a nice idea, thank you :)

[Desert Knave]

Love this. I have boxes of notes and partial poems and many of the seem impossible to finish, but I hold onto them. ~Jim

[Coyote Poetry]

I use journals for 50 years. I dream write. I write down thoughts to paper before I can forget. Writing is hard. Wild world steal our muse sometimes. Thank you Nadia for sharing the amazing poetry and your thoughts.
Coyote