Poem -

Pain and Passion

Pain and Passion

I can't draw,
I can't rhyme,
In fact I can't do much at all...
I lack creativity and imagination,
Especially when I'm happy,
So I hunt good men
Like prey in the night,
And I prick my fingers
Over and over
On the roses they plant,
Bleeding all over them
Until there's so much blood
They drown in it,
Just to feel the 
Pain
Of their passing,
So I can pour it all
Into these pages,
And pretend I have anything worthwhile to say,
Basking in the validation of strangers
Who soak it up
And call it
Passion.

Like 3 Pin it 0
Support CosmoFunnel.com

Support CosmoFunnel.com

You can help support the upkeep of CosmoFunnel.com via PayPal.

Log in to leave a comment.

Comments

author
Bernie Martin

I like how the two words of your title are assigned lines to themselves. It is fitting and very effective. And they are in the perfect places in your poem. As to its meaning I have never been reticent about laying on a page how I interpret another's writing. I have read your poem a number of times and I always come to the same conclusion. That you are writing about the sometimes tortured process of creating art through words. Particularly when those words are of a personal nature which for me poetry generally is, and the writer of them sometimes has doubts about their validity. Just as I have doubts about the validity of my interpretation. Sorry if I got it hopelessly wrong. 
Wrong or right it is a great piece of writing. 

Reply
author
missymarie

Bernie, thank you for your comment! You hit the nail on the head. When I was younger I suffered terribly with depression, substance abuse & was in a string of abusive relationships. I was constantly hurting and heartbroken in one way or another and I produced a plethora of poems that used to quite literally write themselves as easy and naturally as breathing and they did extremely well. After several years stuck in that rut, I made the conscious decision to want better and do the hard work to get better. Since learning to love myself and finding peace, I have realised the poems were born of my pain. Now that I'm no longer festering in pain, I struggle immensely to find the words to write anymore and so writing itself becomes a painful struggle. This poem therefore questions the validity of ones creativity and also shines a light on how so many of us, even though writers ourselves, sometimes forget that a lot of the poems people post on here are truly about themselves and born of their pain, even if they use other characters and seemingly 'made up' events!

Reply
author
Bernie Martin

You are very welcome. Yes I remember your poems from when I was on the site before. They were always of a personal nature as are the vast majority of mine. That was what I always admired in your writing. 
What pleases me the most about your reply is that you have found peace and the ability to love yourself. 
As for writing it is my belief that it channels the inner soul so you will always write. 

Reply
author
missymarie

You inspired me to try again and channel that part of me. I have just written a piece that I am very pleased with! Thank you Bernie.

Reply
Poem -

Do You Wish?

Do You Wish?

Do you regret that drunken night?
That cost you,
Me,
The love of your life…
...

Poem -

Chokehold

Chokehold

My gaze falls on his face,
But my eyes look right through him,
Searching for you.
He...

Poem -

My Love, You Are Immortal

My Love, You Are Immortal

My love,
You are immortal.
Because of me
Your life will know no end.
Long after...

Poem -

She A Nasty Girl

Stay in your lane

She a nasty girl...
She got venom in her bite...
She that toxic kind of toxin.. that makes...

Poem -

YOU EARNED IT

YOU EARNED IT

They bet against you didn't they?

They thought you were nothing?

They were your Teacher...

Poem -

Grave Reality

Grave Reality

Eventually my temp friends
the tipping point will be reached
where our walls of delusion...

Advertise on CosmoFunnel.com