Poetry Writing is a Gift - How to Write Poems

Some things don't easily come to others no matter how much they would like to do something.  Writing poetry is one of those things that can't be forced.  Like with any creative work, if it doesn't come naturally, if it isn't something that you appreciate, your words simply won't flow.  Readers will feel the absence of the gift.  I came across a page on Hub Pages that just might help those who truly are gifted in writing poetry to expound on their talent.  See here:  http://hubpages.com/hub/Poetry-Forms

Nicholl McGuire on Ipadio

For poetry recited by the blogger and poet of this blog, feel free to go to her personal page at Ipadio to hear samples of her work. The link is:  http://www.ipadio.com/channels/NichollMcGuire

Thanks for stopping by!

In a Box

It was a big box.
My son brought me a gift
it took some time, I needed to sift
through the pain and the heartache,
found something good I could take.

He said it was for me with a big, bright smile.
His mind had been walking for at least a mile.
Missed his sorrowful, little mother,
found comfort from his big, happy brother.

So he created a masterpiece
in black and white,
wasn't meant to worry me or to fright.

For he wasn't angry or nervous about me,
He just wanted me to "See," to "See!"
He put a crooked smile on my black face.
He had drew me in an odd space.

With a black box and lines all around,
it looked as if the work made sound.

A black firetruck with he and I on it.
something to ponder standing, then I sit.
Still trying to study all of it.

My red heart had been opened with black,
evidently knowledge in his art, I did lack.

Arms held wide,
he gave me red flowers
glad I hadn't died.

Life can be a very dark, strange place,
it makes you think who cut in on your race?


Nicholl McGuire

Abused Woman

Can't you see it when she has a fit?
Do you really see her when she says, "Sir?"

In her eyes there lies the truth,
do you need to be a sleuth?

You see she is hurt on the inside,
that is why she told the story--she lied!

If you can't see what is really going on,
then maybe you can with her broken loin.

She didn't bump into a wall, nor did she
slip and fall.  She didn't have an accident
at the mall.  And, she didn't run into someone real tall.

He hit her there, around the eye,
the makeup didn't cover up the lie.

He pushed her there, then grabbed her arm,
said, "You know I care...don't you stare!"

He smacked her here, on her cheek,
it has been swollen for nearly a week.

Can't you see the tears in her eyes,
can't you see that mother's cries?

She is reaching out to you,
what can you say or what will you do?

Nicholl McGuire
Visit this blog if you can relate: http://laboringtoloveanabusivemate.blogspot.com

What Was

Back, back, back
spiritual lack
mind on a stack
churches and all that
not interested--they slack.

Thinking about what was,
Bible collecting dust fuzz.
Thought about Jesus
while riding the bus.

No blessings coming here,
made God tear.

Wouldn't listen to what He had to say,
wouldn't bother to pray.

Thought I knew much,
used people as a crutch.

Then died and died some more,
looking for God to restore,
a broken heart,
a need for a new start.

Sometimes we rise too fast,
rely on human love--it doesn't last.
Then we get trapped in the past.

What was doesn't have to be,
let God open your eyes, so that you can see.

Nicholl McGuire