17 Jun
In the interest of filling up this blog a bit and making it look inhabited, have a poem. 

This poem was really fun to write and it’s quite silly. It seems once you start writing poetry, you can’t stop. That’s why this happens:


I am stuck in poetry.

Sticky, muddy poetry.

It’s poetry not-in-motion,

poetry in puddles.


I’m six inches deep in

words of wisdom.

My pen is seven deep in letters.

My notebook is splattered with raindrop-verses.


I started off in sunshine

now I’m writing in the rain.

My rambles were full of joy

now my sky is cloudy grey.


I’m stuck in poetry

quicksand, grainy poetry.

Twelve inches deep in sad words

drowning in depression.


I’m sick of, stuck in poetry

and I can’t escape the words.


I’m stuck in poetry

sucked into the current

dragged down into the mud.

I’m stuck in poetry

pulled in by words

held by verse.


I’m stuck in, stuck in

a poem


I’m stuck slogging through poetry

I’m -help me!- stuck in poetry.

I’m stuck in solid poetry,

I’m stuck, I’m stuck…


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Posted by on June 17, 2014 in From My Pen, Poems



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Laura Gabrielle Feasey

Spectrum Educational Services

Engaging Life Issues Autistically


revealing my inner narrator


Where I keep my knit hats, my mommy eyes, and my writing muse

Zounds, Alack, and By My Troth

A tragical-comical-historical-pastoral webcomic by Ben Sawyer

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