I wrote poem. I deleted the poem. I’m lacking all inspiration… At least I wrote one?! 4 years ago

In Loving Memory of Lola Mae Milligan
September 4, 2008

As she laid there
Close to death
The loved ones watched over her
Waiting for her to take her final breath

He was waiting for her
Just across that line
He was a bit of a blur
Until it came time

He took her by the hand
He was still handsome, in his dress blues
She could hear the music of the big band
He said you need to come with me Moose.

He took her face in his hands
And kissed her ever so gently
We have big plans
He looked at her intently

Swung her around
Pressing her close to his chest
Her dress made the sound
Taffeta does when it’s pressed

He whispered in her ear
I have been waiting for you
She wiped away the tear
And said I have been waiting for you too

Written by
Angel Milligan/Ray
September 10, 2008 4 years ago

Or at least once a week the problem is if i do it everyday there are things that get in the way
school work, and lack of inspiration, i wish i could travel someplace far away with lots of new things to write about.
im still going to try for one everyday but that may not be realistic in my lifestyle 6 years ago

A SIMPLE PURPLE EARRINGNOT MUCH MEANING TO MOSTONLY IN MY MIND’S VIEWMUCH MORE THAN A POSTI CAN SEE THE MORNING DEWA NIGHT AGAINST THE COASTTHE TRACE OF A LOVER’S LIPSAND WHAT DIDN’T HAPPEN MOSTYOU DIDN’T ASK FOR COMPANYIN YOUR LIFE AS A WALKING GHOST7 years ago

Our poem today takes us away
to a beautiful mania bubble
Oh my, how does it fly so high?
Brilliantly and elegantly racing by,
not to be caught, not to inspire thought
only to be-like a buzzing bee.
Spinning so fast around
and around, then the bubble pops.
Down to the ground
a modest rag doll does fall.
Exhausted from the flight
pulled by the winds every night
fueled by emotion and fright.
Tonight she will sleep
exhausted into the deep
And all in all
she will continue to fall.
Until next time. 7 years ago

A POEM A DAYTWIDDLING AWAY TIMECONCENTRATINGCONCENTRATINGNOTHING BUT RHYME7 years ago

Our poem today takes us away
to a beautiful mania bubble
Oh my, how does it fly so high?
Brilliantly and elelgantly racing by
not to be caught not to inspire thought
only to be like a buzzing bee.
And then the bubble pops
and down to the ground
a modest rag doll is found. 7 years ago