I find myself with sympathy for the thief but know of no reason why I feel so. I don’t encourage or cheer for the thieving but I would suffer his pain being caught.
With the prick of a needle, blood begins to flow from the wound, as a sun rising behind the skies.
Imagine all the saints marching to war,Confine it, Denial Shoguns; Shade of Longinus!
A forlorn phone booth bathed in neon light under a darkening sky, I associate with naked demise.
I believe that my poetry is the background melody of my life.
Beloved. Golden rays fall upon glistening wet hair of a woman smiling so beautifully that the rainbow fades away.
How do you intend to change what you cannot accept?
Meant. It took me a few seconds to understand what you meant. My eyes is wet. That subtle “no” crushed six months of love, and you just tore me a part by moving your head.
It’s almost a plethora of blogs I have written on in the vast blogosphere, but I have yet to write successfully. With a future in writing in mind, I find my life doomed, but I’m optimistic. Not in the traditional sense where I delude myself with egocentric expectations of a overwhelming outcome of the next blog, rather that this time I will write for my own sake, and not for my peers and the miscellaneous eccentrics that will stumble upon my small scribbles.
I have written poetry for a few years, although a few years is a large part of my life. That fact scares me, more than anything else. In my opinion, creativity will fade as you get older. My writings has become much more refined, so much that I’m embarrassed of my earliest work, filled with love ballads and emotional cries to the world of my self-induced pain, but with no depth to it. Now, I only suffer from lack of inspiration, I rarely come upon beauty or ugliness that makes my fingers itch, a lust to put my thoughts into odd sentences that will, eventually, make up a piece of text describing a feeling, or something worth putting down onto sheets of paper for the history books.
I write under the pseudonym Ian Jade. This fictitious name was created during a French lesson I didn’t attend. As I had finished writing a poem Tæt Under Paraplyen (ENG: Close Under the Umbrella. Unfortunately not suited for this blog, as it is in Danish), I simply left “Ian Jade” as the signature.
As for poetry, I write usually skip between two styles. The first is small scribbles. I enjoy writing on One Word, and if I liked the result, I will post it here as well. There should be approximately six or seven short scribbles. Then there’s the usual, longer poems. They follow no specific rules, I decide how and if it rhymes, the length of each stanza.
