Articles written by Jolene Belmain - Page 4

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About me - Jolene Belmain

I have always loved to write poetry, when you read the emotions in your heart it just seems so easy to put onto paper. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: My life: 64 of 106
My life; your choice Your words; your voice They bring sharp knife Your choice; my life No fair; can't cry Cannot even say goodbye I truthful; you lie You live, I die You lay; I fight You wrong; me right Total darkness; bright light Sharp pain; goodnight Going to sleep; you're tore Me innocent; you whore You fine; me sore He... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Death of a child: 100 of 165
The death of a child just should never be no child of mine should ever predecease me. I just don't want to think of how it would be if the death of a child came before me. So don't ever leave I'll hold you so tight the death of a child can't happen tonight. I'll do all in my power so I may never see the death of a child I wi... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Labeling: 6 of 9
Do not judge him: A man walks into a classy hotel, dressed in a bunch of rags, he asks for a room at the desk, the clerk looks for his luggage or bags. Nothing to be seen, he tells the man "The rooms tonight are all full." The man gives a sigh and says "Oh well, I don't need a room anyhow. You see, I feel more comfortable at... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Global warming: 36 of 52
Days and days of rain are making me insane. Is it just me, or global warming? From last months flood the field is still full of crud. Is it just me, or global warming? More and more tornados blow away the house we chose. Is it just me, or is it global warming? I'm feeling the heat from down here on the street. Is it just me,... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Puddles: 98 of 123
Puddles, puddles all around, in the bathroom on the ground. Puddles, puddles everywhere, in the foyer on the stairs on the carpet on the floor, oops I'm sorry, I did one more. I don't know how this thing works, every time I walk it seems to squirt. All the puddles I can make, wonder if I could build a lake? More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: More than family: 6 of 6
It's the way that winter turns into June, and the way the sun comes from the moon. It's the way grass grows from dirt and seed, pull the roots from all the weed. It's how we need to take each breath, and the belief of life after death. It's how we'll always be there for each other, I am your sister and you are my brother. More..