Poetry Novels & Stories

I pulled one out at random, a collection of poetry, and began to read. I sat on the couch, surrounded by the silence of the beach house, lost in the words of the poetry book. The verses spoke of love, loss, and longing. I felt a pang in my chest as I read, recognizing the emotions that had been swirling inside me. The poet's words were like a mirror, reflecting my own thoughts and feelings back at me.

God! I have been reasoning for quite some time now, putting pieces in place once again as I have done before. I don't know if I should just cage the real me and bring the characters inside me to revolve round and paint colors to the world with the help of poetry. Poetry? What poetry? I have no idea what poetry means because when the real me starts writing, I feel wild and untamed. Nah... I feel up and down. I feel am on top of the moon. That is not supposed to be me. That is not supposed to be how I feel. That is not supposed to be how things should be. Who is God?

Ok Dad, we're here. When Miranda took off the blindfold,he stood there in awe. All the memories came back and he fell to his knees crying out loud. Everyone stood still, no one knew what to do. Miranda quickly helped her dad up and gave him a chair to sit on. Claudia brought him some water to drink. After he calmed down, he smiled at his daughters who were sitting on both sides of him. He cleared his throat and said "Sorry girls,I got a little emotional, I really miss your mother and I can't wait to see her again. Even though she is not here with us anymore,she's still in my heart always, she still lingers in my mind I feel her with every beat of my heart and every breath I take reminds me

He asked, looking at the booklet confused. "I was wondering if you could assist me with my poetry assignment, it's due tomorrow and I have no idea what to write." I muttered. "Of course, I will help you. What is the poetry about?" He asked, looking at me eagerly. "Anything. The professor didn't give anything specific, just that he wanted us to write a poem on anything." I answered. "Alright, let me come up with something quickly." He nodded and opened the booklet to begin writing. I sat beside him on the bed, anticipating the moment he would start writing so I could read it.

Ok class... today, ill be sharing something i wrote with you all. It's a poetry piece. Read carefully. I'll be asking questions later... Oh, my Morning Glory The bright morning sun shoots shafts of light and dark through the blinds, laying bars of mystery down the length of your arching back, creating halos and hollows in your hair.

"Today will be a truly inspiring day. I'll be having the privilege of witnessing incredible performances that celebrate cultures from around the world." He pauses, scanning the attentive faces before him. "I want to share something personal with you all," Ryan continues. "Consider it an inauguration. I have always had a passion for poetry. It's a form of expression that allows me to delve into emotions and stories in a way that connects deeply with others." Whispers of interceptions ripple through the audience as Ryan opens up, his words genuine and heartfelt. "Writing poetry has been a source of solace and inspiration for me. T

I'm waiting to tell you who the 'Poet,' he is unbelievably great but not in poetry. P - Philosophy O - Of E - Endless T - Thought Take care of yourselves, my readers !! Tell me what you like, tell me when I was wrong :-)

Like the prosody. “The study of poetic sounds and rhythms is known as prosody. Music is poetry. It is also the stress and intonation patterns in a language. This essentially means, ‘does everything fit together?’ Everything in your song should serve the same purpose. It is to express the essential emotion, central idea, and vital purpose of your song. Aristotle first expressed the impression of prosody when he said, “Every great work of art exhibits the same characteristic.” Julian’s lectures, as usual, have a way of grabbing your attention. All he has to do is stand there, and everyone will listen. His lessons are simple to grasp because he does not simply re

It was surprising our Alpha and Luna had let her move there, considering she was very much human. Mrs. Juniper absolutely adored poetry, mostly the classics. I’d never forget the endless headaches I suffered trying to decipher what Shakespeare, Robert Frost, and Alfred Tennyson were trying to convey. Why poets had to make such simple lessons so confusing was beyond me. Why did they have to use pretty words to convey truth? ‘This doesn’t seem to be so hard.’ Rayna countered, murmuring the words to the poem in my head. ‘It mentions beasts twice, which has to be the bulls, right?’

"It's beautiful. What does it mean?" "How do you know it means something?" "Because everything has a meaning. A poem especially. Poetry can stir a lot of emotions in someone and the way you wrote tells me it has a strong meaning behind it." "Going into the depth of poetry are we?" "Only if you allow it."