How do you monetize a poem?
Don’t be afraid to show your poem to others
Take a walk by the river to get some time alone.
The sun is coming down, and the summer days fade into the night. The street lights come on. There’s nobody on the sidewalks but you and me. We’re both staring ahead as we walk, but I don’t see you smiling or hear your voice say anything back to mine. I feel like my feet are placed where they should be and that this is where we’re meant to be.
Here… right now… walking side by side. I look around. Your poem is the only one that I see on the street. Then I ask myself,
“how long will I be here before another person walks down this block and sees my poem?”
Is it up to me? Will it be up to me? Will you leave a mark on the pages of time for all time to come? What do you think?
If your poem is passed down through generations, then how long until the streets are covered in poems that were written by others and read by others but not passed down? If your poem is now being.
If it’s now being seen, your poem. If your poem is still being written and will be read by someone, then there’s nothing to worry about, right? If your poem isn’t worth a second thought, what are all these words you’re reading? Why are the words you’re reading on this screen not just disappearing like the rest of them did years ago? Why does your poem remind me of… I look forward to my dreams becoming real.
The Power of Poetry Highlights
Out for a walk. Sun shining on my back.
Look down. See a long leggy Shadow, long shadow hair moving, Shadow dress billowing, Shadow moves as I move.
The shadow of a woman by Branwen Rhiannon Drew
Do you remember when we first met? I had hair of gold, legs wrapped in fishnets. Walking along the side of the road, the rain splashed. Lines of communication initially hashed.
Golden Hair and Fishnets by Dais Bergmann
May your heart always be open
May your love flow with ease
May your light always be bright
May You Fly Home by Juliet Romeo
When you believe you are not born for it, as your profession lies in a different field. When you give up before you start, as other things seem more manageable. When your brain overrules your instinct, as the facts say, it´s not worth the effort.
The first time… by Stefan Winkler
All alone making a list of lasts.
How many lasts will there be during this temporary eternity?
A List of Lasts by Robin Oakman
Rainy days I so want to go and play but Mama my little boat wont float I folded it tight like the older boys did but the river in the gutter has taken it again
Rainy Days by chris papps
Crept into my heart like a cat by a fire,
Ninja like stealth over trip wires,
Evading surveillance, evading watch towers,
Paradox by Sacha Wharton
All words stop and stare at the beginning. knots tangle,
Why? by Monomit Bhowmik
Time, our friend or foe? Time, ticks slowly or fast while watching the clock.
Time by Jason Edmunds
I hear her wails, a sound that strikes fear — the metal hammer hitting the naked steel beam.
The Words Are Sanctified by Amae
O how excitement courses through my veins When the moonlight awakes my muse and I — My fingers alight upon these cold keys
A Momentary Fright by Ravyne Hawke
there is hardly anything respectable anymore. the last minute is close.
Road Running by Caleb Weingarten
It’s the details,
the laying out of the specifics that calls me
some twenty-four hours later to read this poem again.
Rattlesnake Country by Don McIver
I scream inside you never out
