She chose to die to be with him
A love so dear but ended in grim
For she thought he was the only one
Who had the passion like a thousand sun
If only her parents weren’t busy
Fighting with the others so gamely
Then maybe they could have told her
There was a love greater than the other
She had eyes as beautiful as the sea
But what is the use when she could not see?
That beyond the spring of forbidden love
Someone had loved her from above
But now it is too late
For us to tell dear Juliet
And hope to stop and make her see
That before Romeo there was He
Tonight, tonight the lonely world sleeps
In my tattered heart a memory keeps
Every light, every star sparkling above
The faintest glimmers are hope for love
Upon the battered alter the ashes heap
Death is coming, ready is he to reap
He lay there panting,
gorging on every bit of oxygen his clapped out lungs
would allow him to take.
His faced pushed hard against the chewing gum stained concrete.
The blue lights smothering every thought,
every hope he thought he had.
But this man was a dreamer.
This man was never really bad.
And as he tried to gather reason,
he couldn't help but laugh.
He should have seen it coming.
Like headlights on a darkened lonely road.
For if it wasn't for bad luck, he'd have no luck at all.
If it wasn't for those reasons,
he may have skipped the fall.
He pondered, was it karma,
or just plain dumb bad luck.
What if he hadn't ran with panic?.
Would he have pulled it off with some charming monologue
from the recesses of his panicked mind?.
Or was this always gonna be,
the kinda life he was to find.
the old moon smiles at me
every night as I walk on the lonely beach
where hundreds of ships has washed ashore
and thousand feet have walked upon
cold wind blows from the waters crashing
on the white dull sand
bringing promise of freedom,
a sweet yet sickly feeling erupts in my stomach
I doubt whether my wishes will come true.
whenever the winds blows, I look at that way,
but never towards my house, or the town,
because all I want to see is a faraway adventure
just within reach, if I could grasp the star
that sits silently and still in the navy blue sky
beckoning me to follow and find
my own journey, as long as I run away
leaving nothing but the last traces of
my light footsteps,
wanting them to be washed away by
the coming tide.
just like how I hope all memories
of this place
of my entire existence here,
will be erased,
as I need room for new acquaintances, dangers, exploration,
feelings, discoveries, tastes, smells
sights, sounds to come and stay
when I leave to travel where
The Wind Points That Way.
My name is Rachel
But others may refer to me as
Rach, Rachie, or Rae-rae.
I am nineteen years of age.
When I was a little girl
My smile was as bright as the sun
I ran and jumped and tumbled
I climbed trees that were so tall they touched the sky
And if ever I fell down
I picked myself up, still smiling.
It was when I was ten
That my smile finally faded
And my parents grew frustrated
And the day they told my brother, sister and I
That they weren’t going to be together anymore
Was the same day I fell
And wasn’t strong enough to stand back up.
Of complete and total darkness
Is what followed
And then half my face froze up
Stuck in a permanent state of nothing
A paralysis of the nerves
Labelled ‘Bell’s Palsy’
Was what finally motivated my dad
To get me out of there
And after a while
I must’ve been smiling pretty hard
Because the paralysis went away.
And now I’m here.
If I were to describe myself
I’d point out that I’m five foot, four inches tall, on a good day
When anxiety isn’t weighing me down.
Rarely do I ever stand up straight.
I have deep, dark brown eyes
That observe more than they can really see.
They remain hidden behind thick framed glasses
For they, themselves, wish not to be seen.
My hair is as brown and ordinary,
Long and untamed and always in the way.
I’d cut it all off, like when I was younger
But I look older this way
And my friends like it.
I spend most of my time blogging
Even though rarely does anything exciting happen to me,
But then, that’s what John Watson said
Right before he met Sherlock.
I love television and movies
I love video games
I love books
Because I love stories.
Listening to them
I’d never get bored.
I like books, their pages dry and crinkling at my touch.
I put more effort into procrastination than I do into any sort of work.
Death laughs, and life depresses me.
I’m afraid of a lot of things.
Sometimes I feel too much,
Sometimes I feel nothing at all,
And that frightens me.
My imagination tends to run wild,
And sometimes it’s beautiful
But sometimes it’s brutal.
Sometimes I’m just paranoid.
I think about thinking
I think about other people thinking
I think about other people thinking about what I’m thinking
I’m an over thinker.
Secretly I’m a hopeless romantic,
And I hope to fall in love without getting confused by the idea of it.
But that’ll happen when I’m ready for it.
I believe in the equality of all things, though I’m hesitant to say it’s achievable.
I know there’s good to be found in people
But I don’t understand why all I keep finding is bad.
I’m proud and prejudiced against prejudiced people
Jane Austen is my hero.
If you ask me my name
I’d probably stumble over it
Like I stumble over everything
Words seems to curl my tongue
They do wonders at the tips of my fingers
But die as soon as they cross my lips.
I get nervous when I have to speak
Or look someone in the eye
And I’m pretty sure my mouth has a mind of its own.
I like being alone but sometimes I get lonely.
I’m moody and temperamental, and a little mental
But those that care for me don’t mind.
I’m more inclined to listen
If I can sing along too.
I’m clumsy and uncoordinated.
I walk into doorframes and apologize.
I stub my toe and laugh
But other people’s pain makes me cry.
I know a few words in Italian,
Even fewer in Russian,
And they’re all slang or swear words.
When I blush my entire face is painted scarlet,
And my skin is so sensitive it’s sometimes a blotchy mess.
Unless I’m ranting.
Usually my thoughts make more sense
When I’m not thinking at all.
I am Rachel and this is barely scratching the surface of who I might be.
My hands would find the notes hidden beneath the skin of your lower back. Pressing into your spine like piano ivory. Taking care to avoid the black keys. Breath to carry the melody past your ticking mind. Warming your belly like fire and hope.
You are so silly sometimes.
Unaware that the song was written all along in the sheet music stretched behind your eyes. I play by ear.. because I see it. And I hear it. And I've heard it before.
It's caught in you. Owned like the tide in the shell.
It is a secret song. Something sweet and strange. Nostalgic. Honest. Beautiful.
When it isn't a siren call...
It is a lullaby.
In the key of "we".
I hope we are like your favorite song
Not the one that you like right away
That is so catchy you become bored with it
But the slow one; the one that grows on you over time.
That you find new intricacies every time you listen
The one you won't tire of hearing.
The concept of you overflows much of the space within my scattered thoughts.
I want you here to cradle my wind-chapped hands in yours and giggle as I read you my winded attempts at poetry.
I want you to enter into the unknown with me and stay up as I hold you on the nights when the aching takes over us both.
I want you here to fight and wrestle with me over which movie we will cuddle too tonight and I want to listen to you rant passionately about the injustices you have seen in the world today
I want to love every broken piece of you and mend every shattered dream and heartbreak you've experienced back to health
And I want us to work together to take on this world that scares us both to death,
I want you in the most innocent of ways,
But God do I want you,
More than I ever thought one could want a concept of a man who has yet to find a find his way to me.
I hope you’re searching.
I hope you’re wondering.
I hope you’re waiting.
And dear God, I hope you want me as much as I want you.
pitch and putt I never worried about
'cause all my drives were long and stout
now off the tee it doesn't fly so far
and all I can do is hope for par
on my card 3's are 4's and 4's became 5
oh how I wish for a 300 yard drive
It's only a game, some say unkind
but it grabs at your heart and messes your mind
it's only a game still others proclaim
front nine was fun the back nine shame
so before I tee, I ask my Lord
just once put my name atop the leader board
so now it's early to bed so I can dream
of birdies and eagles and a jacket that's green
written by my caddy
Sir Duffy Mulligan
When my life is falling apart
You will never see my smile fade
When all hope seems to be lost
You will never guess I'm giving up
It is only under the blanket of darkness
And in the comfort of being alone
That I will let myself feel
That I will let myself breathe
This, alone, is my biggest fault
This, no doubt, is my greatest strength