Somewhere a kitchen light still glows on an immense orange cat waiting to scour both dog bowls for leftovers that have yet to appear after even a single meal. Twilight throwing lavender shadows across the cramped polaroid drenched kitchen where you slow danced to something acoustic before saying your first goodbye on a bare concrete balcony studded with cigarette ash and stars.
I used to read your poems but lately you don't write you're silent and aloof you know that isn't right. You can't close a door once opened you can't abolish all your dreams you're a poet of the heart mustn't fall apart at the seams. Say what you can in words they speak the message true spoken from the heart the poems will see you through. A hermit's not your style a recluse, you are not never give up writing of things that you've been taught. I used to read your poems I'd read them once again if you would send them out (this one's from a poet friend)
They said, "The most beautiful art is looking into someone's eyes when they talk about the things they love." And I said, "Or looking at someone you love. Or maybe, just maybe, by looking at the mirror is the most beautiful art anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
It’s a city from the outside, Shining on a hill But from the inside looking out It’s just another jail
It sometimes feels like the city walls are pressing in, suffocating me, but I can’t leave, at least not yet. Soon, though, I’ll be leaving; soon... I just have to remember to breathe long enough to get there.
I sometimes feel I'm an annoyance And sometimes comes very often And often I feel I'm not good enough Even though I give my all All is just a bit too much It sometimes feels so overwhelming And sometimes comes very often
Visions of the thens, Contemplation of the whys. What a strange notion it is That you've become past tense. I flirted with the idea of forgiveness, Fiddled with it between my fingers. I then invited indignation, Allowed her to stay too long at the table. Rage-ridden I found myself. Once she left fearfulness followed, Grief grew beside her In tandem, they existed. I now await apathy I hope she arrives soon. But then there would be nothing left to write.
you gave me a word to hold onto it got me through the night felt nice for a while but we both know this isn't right keeping your distance is a crime I know this by the hurt in my chest someone's placed you here in front of me as a torturing test you've put a gun to my head and I'm asking to die for the sake of being dead what I would do for you to crawl out of her and into my bed
She sits there hoping not to be notice. Waiting every second to burst out of her bubble but not knowing where it will take her. Ever knowing when to jump to the next step too afraid to fail. Seconds are feeling like months, trying soo hard to leave a broken city. Dreaming for the days when everyone will know her name. Each day is a step towards her goals not letting one in her way. Making new friends to fill the gaps of losing everyone she knew. Parents that bully instead of support but just enough to make her work harder to reach her dreams.
Whether a comma, or colon: Punctuation slows my rolling I need no period. When I end no Capitalization when I begin Rulelessly I flow my art Not a single! Exclamation mark Are you not the one Who'll know? Where a question mark No longer goes
Warp the structure Bend the lines Put in repeat Let emotion unwind Make yourself Your poetry's the best Be your own ruler Pass your own test
Take your own road Where ever it leads Lover or hater It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim .
Hay No matter who you are You have my deepest respect!
Vanity All is vanity The meanings of passion The aesthetic expression The lines we draw and stay within Even love is beyond intent Vanity transcends Flowing from our pens And so we breathe again
I love him I tell myself I know that We will be together forever I don’t believe that We could be separated My thoughts tell me that He’s the love of my life Sometimes my heart lies and says I could live an eternity Without him Like my friends say “We’re perfect for each other” And you can’t tell me He’s not the one.
Before we meet I'd like to send parting gifts. To my mother, To my grey dog, To the sparkling sea, To the brown eyed woman, To my guardian angels, I'd like to journey Into the heart of their being And get drunk in celebration Then letting it all fade to black
Not every woman finds the bus driver of her dreams. Familiarity breeds contempt during a bus trip. Your bus driver loves you and always will! Someone had to say it and I'm glad that it was me. If I married a bus driver, and he was a woman, I'd love him a lot.