Help please?

who_doesnt_like_pj

I know I can semi- write
But I want to be able to write a poem and I'm sure if I know
what
to write and how to
I'd be fine,
here's an example of what I've written before
its semi long, im sorry >.< i just want some help






He's a beautiful man. So calm. Has those soothing eyes but of course, you wouldn't know that. Considering he refuses to look up in the world. Refuses to look life directly in the eyes. Only a few times have I caught a glimpse which is somehow always followed by a smile. Just like in the movies, constantly I daydream going up to him, shooting him that mysterious smile then do the look away, walk away. Where then he's now intoxicated by my presence. He chases after me. Spins me around. Looks me in the eyes. And then a kiss. That simple slow motion kiss that seems to last forever. Oh boy, do I imagine that scene everyday, if not more. But no, only the same things happen. A hug here and there, but less tightly each time. We're not so close anymore but yet nothing quite changed.
He seems almost perfect. His faults seem trivial. But something keeps nagging at me, bothering me. I don't know what. I just know it keeps me up hours at a time with my head buried in my hands, which get tiny blackish grey river stains. What is so different? Did I do something? I reread everything, our letters and notes we passed. Nothing out of the ordinary. Each note he writes he signs with a heart and the letters "ASAILY." And I sign mine with a simple drawing, different each time with the letters "WAYSP." Neither of us knows what the other's signature means, but we promised at the right moment we'd tell each other. I do wonder about it though…
I love him so much. I get the tingly feeling in the pit of my stomach when I reflect back to random times where he may have jokingly kissed my cheek or slapped my butt. And my heart hasn't quite ever slowed down ever since I met this boy. I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling wishing there was a window there, with my hand over my heart feeling the rapid thuds. And I wonder does he ever do this? Hopelessly wondering. It will be my downfall. But I won't back down. How can I not fight for what I believe in? If there's such a thing as true love, aren't I allowed to participate? I want to play this game I'm competitive enough. I can win. If only he'd ever give me a chance to win him over. I can score baby just let me try. Something strikes me odd though.
There's something new in his facial expression. Oh how id love for someone (preferably him) to notice every tiny detail in me. But either way, there's a new glow in his face that I've never noticed before. And then a friend of mine comes up to me. She asks me if he and I were close again. I looked at her. Just looked at her. I got confused. I don't understand? I walked away. Needed to ponder this new concept. Oh the butterflies. My heart is running a marathon. My eyes have a sparkle to them and my cheeks turn a rosy color. I see him. "Hey, why do you look so happy, am I missing something?" I look at my shoes. Which have his writings all over them. I avoid this question. Mostly because I don't know the answer myself.
We do our usual walk and talk Then this girl walks by. I never quite got the chance to get to know her but apparently he was friends wit her. He stepped in front of her. Squeezed like he was going to lose her forever. Then he walked back to me. His face glowed. It finally hit me. Apparently it showed too considering he mentioned the lost of color to my face. I felt sick. Didn't quite know what to do. "I need to talk to you later; I think we both have certain things to get off our chests. So meet me by the willow tree after school." he said to me.
What could he possibly want to tell me? I got worried. But now I knew why I cried all those tears... ruining countless pillow cases. Why I had that bothersome feeling and why my friend said something to me. It's because I did have him. I had him. His face did glow like that before. I never realized. Because I was in such denial. I was feeling so undesirable then… His hugs got less tight because I was the one who he used to grip for dear life. And now there's her. And I'm being pushed away. I had him. I blew it. And I thought our time was running out. Turns out it was just mine, I never realized what I had. But she, she knows. What did I do…? I can't get this out of my mind.
I'm dreading the walk to the willow tree. That was our spot. When we were younger we carved our names with the letters "BBTD," best buddies till death. We got drunk together for the first time there, and we buried the beer bottles. He threw me a surprise part there too. Only he had remembered. He baked me a cake. It turned out…interesting to say the least. But it was the thought that counted. He even gathered all of my stuffed animals too. Mind you we were only eight. Then there was the time we were playing tag. He was it. But he tagged me a bit too hard and ended up pushing me. I banged up my leg. He started to cry before I did! And then he ran away. He came back a few minutes later with a flower behind his back, which he gave to me along with a kiss to the knee. Oh the memories. The willow tree is just a burial site now. We buried an item from each occasion. Oh how I feel the need to puke up my insides right now. I'm almost there; I can see his tall figure.
I hug him hello. He stood there limp. I looked at the ground. He talked. A lot. I cried. A lot. It went down like this. He had feelings for me. He said he thought I knew but he was dumb for not acting on it. Then he went on saying how he is going to go for her. But that I need to stay away for I may stir up his feelings. I looked at him. Who was this man I grew up with? Who was supposed to be my BBTD? My true love! I looked at him not knowing what to say in fear of saying something wrong and making things worse. How is my world crashing and burning right in front of me? Right now? Since we were at the burial site I felt the need to bury something else, to keep tradition. Since he buried his feelings for me, I am going to bury our secrets. So I said.

Why are you so perfect?

He said.

Ahh sweet angel,
I loved you.

catefrances

you know, all my writing was prose. then i read henry rollins and he changed the way i wrote. for the most part my 'poetry' is just prose in poetry form and i dont care that it is. i think if you should write in whatever form you are comfortable with.
oh and i dont see why you shouldnt be able to write poetry.

who_doesnt_like_pj

thank you =] and yeah ive written in prose once but i just don't know how to continue it:


She's sitting underneath a willow tree,
beer bottle in hand.
He's sitting underneath a table,
razor blade in hand.
She's seventeen
already a drunk since thirteen.
He's nineteen
been trying to kill himself since fifteen.
She's as beautiful as the sculpture Pygmalion created,
scarlet red hair and captivating green eyes
with a name to fit,
Jade.
He was a handsome young man and
was once fooled by beauty, with scars to show
the only name he can bare to say is his own,
Noel Van.
It never had a nice ring to it, but it was unique.


He stared blindly at his arms.
His last love's name was inscribed
as well as every other girl's who came and went,
while taking a piece of his heart as they left.
He himself is still shocked his heart is beating.
She tries to get up,
she stumbles and falls
failing again like every other thing she attempts.
She is contemplating whether or not she should go home.
Does she really want to hear about how
she's a fuck up
over and over again?
She huddles within herself.
She's wondering how her brain is even able to run.


Hours past,
the night's blanket was pulled off the city
and the sun crept back into it's place
shining through windows and eyelids.
Jade had no choice but to wake up.
Her head pounding to the rhythm of her problems.
Noel turns in his slumber
colliding into the leg of the table.
He blinks a few times to adjust to the light.
She rubs her eyes.
He pukes at the sight of the blood that surrounds him.
She pukes from the alcohol poisoning.
These mornings were always the worst.

catefrances

if this is the tone in which you write, then please continue to do so.