

To Interview a Poet1. Why did you begin writing poetry?: I began writing poetry when I was in second grade for just the enjoyment of it. At that time they were simple little rhymes, as I grew older the content become more mature and complex and I wrote more for the sake expression.To Interview a Poet
2. What kind of poetry do you usually write?: I prefer to maintain a wide scope in my writing, I write in the style of prose most often but I also enjoy sonnet, lyrical, haiku, and the more experimental types that are emerging today.
3. What kind of mood are you in before, during, and after you write?: I write in various moods and the moods are all contingen


say not that you love meoh say not that you love me, with thine feeble, fading words, rather, show unto me thy very heart, who's truths are clearly heard. speak not of your passion, and your desire to hold me near. nay, rather show unto me in loving fashion, a desire to outlast years. proclaim not to me with guilded tongue, promises of a love untouched by time, instead bestow now while thou art young, love be it so burning, a crime. announce not with a flourish of riches and fine things a desire to have my heart. but prove to me a love that together brings that which shall never part. for i have heard love in all mannesay not that you love me


a little white pilllaugh, but it is bitter..the bitterness seeped from a white pill thats supposed to make my world a better place. all the pieces shattered and broken, torn and taken, so much lost and yet..rather than truly bind all that i find the little white pill will only blind, not heal the wounds as they continue to fester while eyes become shallow pools of fleeting thought, none able to take root and last because the soil has become too polluted with falsity so that reality is shunned. from the cords of my fading awareness i am hung and the shadow of my twitching corpse cast upon the gives illusion of life when i am merely a puppet on a string..a stringa little white pill


sleep walkinghaunted with my eyes wide open, treading carpet that my feet do not feel, despite leaving on the lights, shadows still cloak my vision. blind save but in the dreams that play out before my eyes i wander. each time doing what i wish i would have done..checking locks, checking windows, all safe and secure..a repition that swallows me whole, nightmares and all and i awake, standing in the room alone..and shiver not for chill but fear of what i've become..sleep walking
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-Johny Campbell
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