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)
As you hit the keys on the piano your hands dance with the rhythm And retain a mystical aura The alluring tunes of your music awaken the fire flies As you play they glide Creating a shimmering glow of aurora
Sea of uncertainty. Quantum verse. All options, possibilities play out. Universes floating on fluctuations. Quantum vibrations. Fluctuations of mathematical probability. Multiverse never ending. Adrift on nothingness. Phasing in then out. Creating then reabsorbed. Endless variations on a theme. Let Schrödinger's cat decide!
I’m buried in a cocoon of stories From poetry, To biographies, To dystopia, And romance So many stories Of so many people Real, Or just figments of the author’s Imagination Sitting atop wooden bookshelves Waiting for the right person, To pick them up And get lost in their story For everyone has a story to tell, Some are overly exaggerated, And other’s are rarely heard The important thing is That we share our stories Through word of mouth, The internet, Or in a notebook To be found by future historians Tell your story Believe me, you won’t regret it
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.
Is that really you? I now see all your flaws, Is that really you? Because of love, I was blinded to them all, Is that really you? I thank God I saw on time. Is that really you? Because I'm sure your flaws wouldn't cancel with mine.
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.
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