Posted by Olsen Potter in


The voice in my mind
a censureship on creativity
tells me I am nothing,
I, a bird, sings in my flight.

My family's always asking
leaving doubts of self motivation
Asking what I'm doing
a creek can erode the earth.

"why are you so different?"
voices like a cat screatching in the night
"why are you so monochromic?"
that old cliche saloon fight.

I enjoy who I am.
Sunset painted on a lonely soul
I refuse to change.
Counting grains on an aging beach.

Writing with a faithful pen
chicks hatching out of pre-used eggs
Poem that never get read
swimming in the ocean of words
and dying of

-Olsen W. Potter-

This entry was posted on Thursday, February 16, 2006 at 11:38 AM and is filed under . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .


I still love this poem, but I am not sure what to think of the alterations.

Still, you are improving by leaps and bounds. There is more texture and humanity coming into your work, more reality.

2/18/2006 9:46 AM

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