Smokes and cigarettes Big moustached and ashy lips Fogging out their talks Their political jargons Some corrupted sons and their forefathers All of them look the same White, grey and black Their throaty laughter And continuous flaks I feel overwhelmed here Like being surrounded by chess pieces A game where I don’t have any fun I don’t belong here
But it’s on the other side of the red wall Where colours run The jewels jingle And the clothes quiver in the air Everything is so alive here The crystals ,the clattering heels, the colognes, The gossips, the gold and the grandeur But I’ve been told No to go there I don’t belong there
would leaves never fall, if wind kept its blew? cold winter leaf, hmm... perhaps it hates colour blue, i know we humans do, cycle of leaves seems wiser, they know to bury themselves, when winter's due, but aren't they arrogant!? to go out in such style, like chameleont parachuting, seriously, who does that...
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)
I'm glad that I am here in the depths of this hurt, I am reminded of my life, my very own life, This weight that is heartache that I currently bear, I'm grateful to it and the changes it is making, My face looks ever so different in this mirror, in this sorrow new strength, in these tears an elixir.
You are my unsent message. The cursor blinking rhythmically, With my heartbeat, Waiting, For me to hit send. But I am not ready, And I’m not sure if I ever will be So I left it like that. Unsent. Unseen. Unread. “I miss you.”
You messaged me today I listened to what you had to say My heart didn't hurt You didn't try to flirt You apologized to me And said you'd like to see... You'd like to see me and catch up I said okay I could talk to you today Is this healing Because I have no feeling I have no feelings left for you
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.
Hearsay, the more you forgive, the more they will love you. But every time you forgive them, you fall in love with them less and less. And the time they love you more than any other is very much the moment you decide to love them the least.
the dusk wastes its pity on me. in its muted retiring lights, i have learned a terrible habit of forcing poems out of my mouth, when maybe all i wanna do is be as quiet as the wounds nesting inside my head.
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.
Roses are red Violets are blue Time goes by And I miss you
Just like me The flowers grew But soon they wilted Just like you
You were sweet This I knew Like an addiction I loved you
Now the roses are dead The violets are too The garden's all gone And so are you
Your flowers died I did too Because all along I was you
I wrote this a while ago when I had a crush on someone and it was literally crushing me. This is pretty metaphorical, but it also has a bit of literal meaning. It's a mixture of my feelings towards the person I liked and how I felt towards myself at the time.
i wish i was a soft girl the ones you find in movies with soft gentle voices, with tears of honey, and kindness that warms like golden sunshine dewdrop flowers with ambrosial petals blooming with unwavering patience and soft lips
instead i am just a girl with too much love to give and a raspy voice and i am angry that i foolishly keep waiting for someone or even maybe just me to lift the curtain and see me as a soft girl too
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 know you won’t read this and I know you won’t care but I will tell you what it was like.
It was blurry. it was slow but time was running fast. It was dusty feet and dusty souls. It was feeling nothing and then all at once. It was hating you to drown the urge of hugging you. It was writing a poem and post it wishing you will relate to it.
But who cares, you don’t.
May 2017. I wrote this instead of telling you, even though you were there, dancing next to me. And we were made out of poison, finding new ways to hurt each other.