A Penny in my messed up thoughts!

A penny is all you need

Enough on the surface

But more to read.

Spurned by the rain

And glazed by the heat

Liquefied the pain

And put it to a beat

Storms to bubbles

Cuts To cuddles

Doubts to rainbows

Breaths to mumbles   

Though the value is clear

The dirt is caked

Intentions sincere

Fears taped

To a balloon in the sky

The wings of a fly

Between the lines

Shattering its confines

A penny is all you need

Exact change

More than enough to

To feed

Invest in what you will read


Irrelevant Title!

(Seriously, I couldn’t think of a fitting title and you will soon see why)


The lines on my face don’t scare me anymore

They inspire me

It has nothing to do with her

Or the way she pouts her lips in concentration

It has nothing to do with him

Or how good he smells even though he hasn’t showered in a week

I think of them

Often actually

Though, they are not in charge of me

I fight and push forward

Nothing can bring me down today

It’s the writing that feeds me

Not the words

Not Poetry

When I try to write, nothing unique ever comes to mind

It’s not a task, I need it to unwind.

When I finally do jot down the rawness that I feel

Then I can’t elaborate on it

I sit and I think but yet another unique thing pops up

I jot it down but it has nothing to do with the first

I could make it but I’m afraid it would show

Damn I wish I was a poet

 Then none of this would be happening

If I were a poet then this would effortlessly rhyme

People would want to sing the rhythm of the words while they read

Just now, I tried to make this into a poem and boy was that a mistake

I’m not a poet but I do write poetry

Anything can be poetry in my book

Its other peoples’ books that send me over the edge

When I write music I think the way that it goes together is poetry

What about short stories or my novel?

It’s annoying but I’m still going to call it poetry

No, it is not by any means fancy

Sometimes it’s not even raw

I hate to sugar coat things

And that’s why sometimes I don’t do huge revisions because I meant what I said the first time

I stopped typing for a second and read over the last few lines

Geez Erin, what are you doing?

You’re separating your clauses like a poem

This isn’t supposed to be one

It’s more of a ramble

That’s what my writing is most of the time; organized rambling

Its quiet pitiful but very true

This is poetry because I say it is,

If anyone thinks different then they’re probably a poet