ThePoetryFan

New Zealand

INTP
Dead poets society lover
Enneagram type 7
literary fiction reader
Musician
Artist (kinda>_

Message from Writer

"The Man who says he can and the man who says he can't are both correct" - Confucius

Published Work

Grow

When you are the only tree left and all the rest have been painfully chopped down,
And you have to face a decision of whether you want to decay or grow,
Grow always, for one cannot know how tall a tree just like you can go.

And when small spaces are filled with tones of green, 
disperse your seeds down onto the ground.
If your first tree get inevitably chopped clean,
You shan't be starting from nothing,
And you will have a platform to grow from.

If you try hard enough and move past these blunders,
Only the sky knows how high you can get,
For you chose to grow, 
And still you know,
This is only your height as of yet.

So grow my love,
Never choose to stop,
For all those seeds you planted yourself,
Will grow taller than the one they once chose to chop.

Grow

When you are the only tree left when all the rest have been painfully chopped down,
And you have to face a decision of whether you want to decay or grow,
Grow always, for one cannot know how tall a tree just like you can go.

And when small spaces are filled with tones of green, 
disperse your seeds down onto the ground.
If your first tree get inevitably chopped clean,
You shan't be starting from nothing,
And you will have a platform to grow from.

If you try hard enough and move past these blunders,
Only the sky knows how high you can get,
For you chose to grow, 
And still you know,
This is only your height as of yet.

So grow my love,
Never choose to stop,
For all those seeds you planted yourself,
Will grow taller than the one they once chose to chop.

YOU, The Writer

Un(knowingly)titled

Sat down, facing a blank screen, with no idea how to fill it. When ideas suddenly pop into my mind, I start writing...I hang onto my last word, needing not to know what will come next. I fly into stories of the fairies and enchanted forests, stories of mystical and astonishing lands and places of emotion and dread. The stories have no guaranteed happily ever afters, although I need closure in life's circumstances some of the time.

My deepest fears, secrets, desires, are all hidden between the lines of the text and always unknowingly come through in their own form, they enjoy showing their faces. Mind and heart disagreements happen often with screaming matches from the left and right side of my brain and getting them out on paper is the only way to silence them....So that's what I do. I write. I write because I need to write. A constant cycle of being happy with my work and deleting...

Flash Fiction Competition 2020

The opposing sides of winning

I grasp the now damp paper in my sweaty, shaking palms. I never thought standing at the top of the auditorium could feel this bittersweet. Contradictions overwhelm me when I see the win on my page and the participation belonging to all the rest of my school.
I thought I wouldn't ever win a competition and furthermore, I wouldn't have guessed I'd feel guilt rather than any happiness. "Congratulations!" are spoken by all around but I can see the sorrow and pure envy behind the eyelids of my fellow students. 
Why am I affected negatively by my success?

Underlying issues

Like a book or a present we receive,
Everything has a story of utter unique.
But with every story comes a list beholding its burdens,
All of the issues we would go blind to not have to see.

To lug around a heavy weight yanking down your head, 
From the cobwebs to spiders and monsters we try to put to bed.
Life could be days of sunshine and summer,
But instead it's replaced with hail and a harsh life of half wishing for rain.