What was I writing?
I don't remember.
Was it something significant?
Eye-catching?
Awe-inspiring?
Ground-breaking?
Earth-shattering?
A revelation?
A new philosophy?
A way of life?
A universal truth?
Was it something simple?
Approachable?
Relatable?
Containable?
Unremarkable?
Could I hold it in my hands?
Could I spit on it?
Could I feed it to a dog?
Could I learn it from a child?
What was I writing?
I don't want to remember.
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Canary word: Present
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142,262 Literary Works • 677,101 Reviews
Another (my second) poetry attempt. Any and all reviews, criticisms, and tips are welcomed.
I greatly relate to this poem, as I often forget what I was thinking about or writing, I get it. But sometimes you simply do end up wondering what ifs and such. Poetry is 90% subjective, so take any advice with a grain of salt. The initial repetition is pretty interesting, but in my personal opinion, it goes on a little long. I think the absolute best part of this poem (subjectively) is the "could I hold it in my hands" stanza, that is where the metaphor bleeds, and you can build on that.