Archive for the ‘Poem #14’ Tag

Nothing (National Poetry Writing Month 2018 #14)   Leave a comment

I feel I should do something,
But I don’t know what.
But I know it should be more
Than lazing around.

My time here is short;
Every moment is treasure.
I know this but still
I waste time doing nothing.

– Shaman Romney 2018

Success: A Tritina (National Poetry Writing Month 2017 #14)   Leave a comment

When talking of success
Some think it is just luck
Others, claim it’s hard work

To create chance takes work
Chances to find success
Heros make their own luck

Starting off well is luck
As you gain from the work
Of your parent’s success

In the end, success comes from both good luck and hard work

– Shaman Romney 2017

Custody Agreement (National Poetry Writing Month #14)   Leave a comment

I stare at the paper, taking in every line.
My heart, my family, contained within;
The state’s way of encapsulating my everything.
My heart, my family, forever intertwine
On this paper, this ink; the court system’s skin.
My choice now is the tattoo needle, or the knife.
For my family, I sign the paper, and tie the string
To my heart. I will gladly give you my life!

– Shaman Romney 2016

Predilection (National Poetry Writing Month 2015 #14)   Leave a comment

I’m lost in a world full of direction.
Exposed, out in the cold, without protection.
Cursed to be alone by predilection
For wanting to keep away from all rejection.

So once again I sit in introspection.
Every thought I have; a grim dissection.
All my flaws and fears, my imperfection
Slowly twist my mind with its infection.

A small part of me starts an insurrection
Against these toxic thoughts of disaffection.
Grows louder as it voices it’s objection
And coaxes me into a resurrection.

In this world, I’m trying to find direction.
I may be cold, but I’ll be my own protection.
I’m hoping i will find a good selection.
Of things truly worthy of predilection.

– Shaman Romney 2015

Posted 04/14/2015 by Shaman in National Poetry Writing Month 2015

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The Artist (National Poetry Writing Month #14)   Leave a comment

The artist pours his heart
Into the canvas again.
Each line, a memory,
Each color, emotion.

The left corner, his true love
The center, the loss of a friend
Every section, a moment of his life
Laid out bare for all to see.

He steps back, admires his work
This one, truly, is his masterpiece.
He turns to show someone
And no one is there.

The canvas lies in storage
Next to it brethren,
abandoned, alone.
The artist nowhere to be seen.

“There is no point to it.”
says the artist,
“Because what good is art
Without the audience?”

Shaman Romney 2014

Posted 04/14/2014 by Shaman in National Poetry Writing Month 2014, Poetry

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