To Write

To write
as I do
Is a seemingly hard
thought process
made easy
by words
written together
is an abstract
sort of way
to fill the readers mind
with mystery
Part sentence
Part phrase
which creates the illusion
of truth
Within these mysteries
is who I am
The words aren't difficult
and the structure
is simple
Look beyond
what you read
and you'll find

               copyright 2018 by RW Erskine
Author's Notes/Comments: 

contact me at: artjwca@yahoo.ca


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If I could write a letter to my past,
There are so many things I would say


If I could write a letter to my future,
There are so many things I would ask


I would say “it'll get better, stay strong!”

And that would be a lie


I would ask, “does it ever get better?”
And I would hope that it does


I would say “you're strong, you can hold the world on your shoulders!”
And that would be a lie


I would ask, “did you make it through this?”
And I would hope the answer's yes


If I could write a letter to my past,
I would only be able to lie


If I could write a letter to my future,
I don't think I'd want a reply


We endured so much in the past,
Scraping by, clawing through the dust and into what we thought was sunlight


We'll have endured so much in the future,
And hopefully we'll have emerged in the moonlight


We suffered so much pain in the past,
But it feels like nothing but a sliver under our skin compared to now


We'll have suffered so much in the future,
That if we're still around I will truly be shocked


If I could write a letter to my past,
I wouldn't warn them


If I could write a letter to my future,
I wouldn't ask for help


Because this pain is what makes us who we are,
This pain defines us,
It binds us and shackles us to our broken version of reality.


If I could write a letter to my past,
I wouldn't give help
I wouldn't warn them of the dangers to come,
Because that pain, the pain that defines my very reality
Is all I have left.


And if I could write a letter to my future, I wouldn't ask for help,
I wouldn't ask for a heads-up or a warning of everything to come,
Because that pain, the pain that defines my very life,
Will continue to antagonize my every breath,

Leading me to become someone beyond our imaginations.


If I could write a letter across time,
There wouldn't be much in it,
Because if there was,

Those letters wouldn't be addressed to me,
They'd be addressed to someone completely different,
Someone who hasn't suffered the pain that defines me.


I need that pain.
Without that pain, me wouldn't be me.

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Dear Writer

Write and write, then write some more

Oh how some have said “It’s a bore.”

What do they know? They don’t see

The magic of these words on trees

Tiny strips of once grand woods

Hold whole worlds, even in death

The tree is gone, but life is there

And it grows with every breath

To create such things as worlds and lives

To build them up and rip apart

The power, the emotions, oh dear writer

Here is a portal to your heart

Look at how each person changes

Look at how your worlds expand

Do you see lives rearranging

And all within your master plan

Oh, the excitement! Oh, the joy!

Beauty is here, beauty and life!

In the quiet of humble homes

A universe hides inside

Some poor souls won’t understand

They’ll never see what you have done

Don’t live for them, don’t mold your worlds

To show the cruelty they’ve become

Take a breath, then get to work

Go live within what you create

Be surprised, feel admiration

Feel love, joy, jealousy, and hate

Don’t be afraid to stray away

And wander down an unknown path

Surprise and awe aren’t just for readers

Not everything will need a plan

Just let the life grow on its own

Let the people all be free

And in their freedom, you will find

A world where you may wish to be

Life isn’t set in stone, my friends

And your writing is the same

Your words are alive, so just relax

And walk within your stories

Always remember, your world is living

It’s not just scribbles on a page

And always know, it’s your creation


Be proud, and please, keep writing

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I love writing, and got so excited when talking about writing that I felt the need to write a poem about it. Hope you enjoy.

not a jot or iota less or more.

It is what it is.

A stroke of a pen,

pixels of light,

A heart scrawl,

Screaming emotion

Or pleasant thought,

Wether it pops out

Or is coaxed,

from the ether of consciousness 

a soul's awaking yawn 

It is what is

and lives as it is born

Tinkered and toyed with

all manner of distortions borne

It sits in its reality

 a nieche of existence

A poem waiting to be heard and judged worthy

because it speaks to a another soul.

It is what is

not a jot or itoa more




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If it's what you want

If words on a page

and pictures in a frame

are what you want,

then so be it.

but just know that one day those pages will fade

and those glass paned frames will break

as that trophy love you thought you had

slowly disintegrates. 

I may not be a writer 

or photogenic like her

but the love I can give you 

will not deter.

So just remember, 

the next time she writes you a poem, 

or snaps a picture, 

those, unlike my love,

will fade. 

Poet, Speak! or forever be silent

Prior work


a poem is the funeral pyre
of pulsations, once exhumed
but now still present;
fueled by the flame of our
rue-filled memories

a poet is the gathering together
of thought and hope
that intermingle with the
burnished trim of
a late afternoon sky

and poetry is a dream
garbed in bilious words
whose raiment is laced
by meandering verse and
be-jeweled by barely parted lips:

It takes but a whisper
to free the wandering soul.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Older posts are lost now and this is the olderst remaining. Quite an internal funeral pyre.

Many thanks for choosing to visit this one and for you most welcome commetns.


Ludovico Einaudi - "Elegy for the Arctic" - Official Live (Greenpeace) - YouTube


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Oh Lord


Oh precious Lord
Your love sustains us
Your ways give us peace
We long for your touch
We love you so much.

Even when I don't see
When I'm asleep you dance over me
When I'm asleep you sing over me

How I yearn to be where you are
Oh Lord touch us today
Give us strength to keep going and keep giving

Keep us under your wings
When I fly I will fly home to you
Your my one true love
To you I give my all

Keep loving us
For your love sustains us

Written By Betty Bolden
Jesus is my joy Ministries

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Why do you listen

Why do you listen?
Is it because the meaning behind my words are sensible?
Or mearly because you enjoy the instruments they play even if they're entirely non-sensicle?

But pay no mind to those questions,
After all my verse is free only so you find your own way over, around or through it?
It is no business of mine to ask you weather or not this poem is fluid,
I'm just...but a poet...the messenger...
This poem is addressed to you and only you,
and i am to know nothing about it but...
I cannot truthfully say I lose no sleep from curiosity,
But like sheep, I am to follow and not question,
and question i will not...
but feel free to answer.

why do you listen?...
Why do your eyes glissen?
what makes your heart race?
what makes your heart stop? or rather...

Why don't you listen?
What makes you fume with rage?
what makes you spit on the page?
what makes you frown?
what makes you yawn?...

yes...i know...i know i can't make you smile all the time
and my rockstar sounds like church hymn sometimes...ok maybe all the time but...
all my rambling, is defined by a burning question,
typical in a poet's mind,
and if you can't answer that...
answer this...
why did you listen?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem can go one of 2 ways...it can either carry a lot of substance and deep meaning or none at all whatsoever and still sound somehow like a poem...either way is fine by me. (But, why would you write a poem that could possibly mean nothing to someone?) now if you are one who likes to dwell on lyrical content, you will find that this poem directly addresses that question. that's why the speaker I chose for this poem is a very curious and nervous character(also quite intelligent who is also a poet. He doesn't much like expressing his concerns directly and for a good majority of the poem he just rambles. but towards the end he grows more comfortable and direct maybe a little bitter but that's just my opinion now i don't know which side of this speaker's speach carries the most meaning, that's up to u to decide...there's no right or wrong in my opinion...but i hope u like him :)...oh and the stanzas are devided according to his "mood swings".

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Who Dares To Write The Truth

Who dares to write the truth,
Who dares to write without fear,
To write what we need to hear
Not what we want to,
Who writes what's real,
What the world really is,
Who dares to criticize
What no one speaks up against,
Who writes,
Who really writes 
For the world?

Will you write the truth,
Will you speak up,
Be the rebel,
Ignore the consequences,
Lead the people,
Demand your say,
Your own opinion,
Condemn the drones,
Programed in dull,
Dreary schools,
The ones with minds like mush,
Fed lies upon lies.
Don't ever trust everyone.

Will you speak up
When called upon,
Are you the brave one,
The only brave one,
The one one who speaks their own mind,
Who's thoughts are their own,
Who fights the drones,
Who leads the vigilantes,
The rebels,
The ones who are able to think,
Will you lead them out of pointless war,
Lead them to stand,
Wind at their backs,
The majority all around.
Will you lead them to stand,
To stand up against
The feeders of lies,
The drones and the cons,
They will claim to help.
Don't listen.
There is no good or bad in war.

Will you be your own person,
Live in your own mind?
Will you stand all alone
If no one will fight?
Will you lift your voice up,
Let yourself be heard?
Will you soar like an eagle,
A strong-willed bird?

Is this your own life
Or are they living it for you?
Are those your own thoughts,
Or are they programed in?
Have you seen with your heart
And not your blinded eyes?
Have you heard the voices,
Those shrieking cries?

Do you dare to write the truth,
What others have strayed from,
What may leak from your mind,
Will it spill on the paper?
Do you dare to speak up,
Support the minority,
I'm not the majority,
I refuse to stop thinking,
I refuse to stop fighting.
Write the truth.

When the gunshots cry out
And the flags wave high,
We will unite,
The minority we are,
We will fight
But draw no blood,
We will win,
Because we know the truth,
We dare to go against,
We will let our voices be heard,
We will be heard!

We are the minority,
We will fight,
We will win,
We shall not draw blood,
No one shall die in our hands,
But we will fight
But not with the others,
We will stand,
We will not move.

Who dares to write the truth?
Who dares to speak up?
Who dares to voice their thoughts?
Who dares to lead the march,
To let their voice be heard,
Who dares?

We are the minority.
Let us be the truth.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Who dares to write about the truth? Who dares to think for themselves?

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