I am so full of words
That never find release
They rise to the tip of my tongue
Yearning to be free
I speak them over again in my mind
Lean forward, part my lips ...
But my heart squeezes painfully
My will crumples like a tissue
And the words slide back down my vocal cords
Into the secret corners of my heart.
It is near overflowing with unspoken words.
Every time I close the lid, it grows harder.


I hardly ever write poetry, so I'm not sure what to make of this. I'd appreciate any feedback / suggestions.

Rala,

For someone who "hardly writes" poetry, you command an extraordinary gift. All the substance is here, not one dot or blot missing.

All the remains is for you to find your "style" and "voice". Experiment (often) with various forms of meter and punctuation. If matters little what you adopt, as long as it is clear and distinct.

Below, I have included a re-write that displays a few different things you could do to add impact and resonance to your brilliant raw material. I don't think mine is a good example (it minces too many things, and isn't a better poem), but hopefully it will encourage you to work on exhibiting your own definitive style.

Warmest of Regards,

Jeremiah



I am with words replete.
All thoughts abound,
yet none complete.
Unable to inspiration cease,
much less to find release.

They rise, so often, to the
Tip (very tip) of my tongue,
Yearning, to be free, unsprung.

I speak them over again and again
(in my mind)
Then lean forward, part my lips--
Just then, my heart (again) squeezes painfully--
And my will crumples like a tissue
And words slide back, to whence they start:
The secret, unspoken corners of my heart.

A sanctuary, near overflowing,
Filled with many an ever-intended word;
And each time, I close the lid:
It hardens, its beat still unheard.