Made Up

A poem about the personal nature of writing.

I didn't steal it.
I made it up.
I didn't find it.
I made it up.
It was neither given to me nor taken from me
'cause I made it up.

Did I wish for it?
Do I desire it?
Oh! Shall I share it?

Perhaps.

It gives me light
'Cause I made it shine.
It gives me hope.
'Cause I made it grow.
It gives me comfort
when I let it rest inside

here.  With me.

And
though it cannot touch me,
nor hold me,
nor kiss me,

it's here because I made it just for me.

Author's Note

First poem. Wohoo! I'd Love to hear (read) what you think.

Reviews

[paul]

utterly unique. a joy to read

[Doreen]

It's warm fuzzies and sunshine. You show how it feels. I like this. Writing is such a personal thing. I think if someone were to tell me that writing had become illegal, I would hide myself away with a flashlight in the dark corner of the closet and write anyway 'cause it's for me. This is brilliant. I like how this felt to read.

[forrestcook]

That was a very thought provoking piece...I enjoyed it. And for your first effort...WOW.

[Christina May Shanaberg]

This is tremendous, Chicago! I am at a loss for words!! This is fantastic and amazing!!! Oh my, you can't get a much better review from me!!!!

[deeps]

I enjoyed this, This is very well written.
Flows well. Wonderful write!

[Sean Allen]

Perhaps writing cannot touch or hold or kiss you, but if that is the goal... who knows.

It gives me light, 'cause you made it glow!

[James Watts]

I like it. I am new to poems, so I can only critique based on if I like it or didn't like it. This a quirky feel and flowed right off the page.