Sulit ya, melepaskan Padahal saat itu aku sudah sekuat tenaga untuk memperjuangkan Namun seakan segalanya terasa hanya sia belaka untuk diperjuangkan Dan pada akhirnya aku membiarkan nya pergi seperti angin
Kala aku berusaha untuk menerima segala hal yang terjadi Sosok lain datang menerpa layaknya mentari Hadirnya seketika menghangatkan diri ini Seakan doa ku selama ini di-amin-i
Untuk dipertemukan dengan seseorang yang jauh membuat diriku lebih berarti
Getting older working with the youth use to being in the back behind the scenes now being brought to the front of the things. He didn't care to battle egos or be caught up in power trips. The older employees are retiring, it's hard to watch them go. As they grow gray leaving you to move up on with life. Being their replacement feeling the pressure to maintain the high standards. From a rookie moving to the next level the glass ceiling broke before it was as good or as far as you could go. Always on deck ready to go. There's an open way not sure which way to go.
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)
While drinking tea by the sea, I travel forever when I close my eyes, and become the soft waves of memory, whiteness becomes the pearls of reverie, I will return as I have always done, I forget the dew falling from this heart of mine, and heal.
their utility is inutile, their usefulness is, will. always be, in the
reinterpretation, a million and still counting, as long as you must guess at its labyrinth inner wired construct, be pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue, two lives (yours, mine), a paired wine tasting, we together, believing in the greatness of joyous frustration
some say, as I do, the world is better for the utility of thine own struggled understanding, the truest combination of two way communication, surpassed only by our at last armed embrace, when at last we understand our mutuality of need and salve...
I knew I loved you long before I said it, Maybe I was scared a little bit. Scared to fall in love for the first time, Like I was committing some kind of crime. So scared of caring about someone more than me, The small things like using the word “we”
Weird things happen in Algeria & Nigeria. Weird things happen to people with progeria. Astonishing things are discovered under microscopical examination as these things remain...Admonishments Under Duress...
I don’t know how to love you. He broke me down like the longest math equation. But, in the process of solving he found no solution. Only lost numbers memories stuck on the chalkboard.
You say you’re too broken too. But now you’re here. Confused and softened possibly afraid. Definitely afraid.
And in this moment my mind flushed with all of the feelings I kept in my little locked box. The cherishment I have for you and the care and want that come along with you. I wanted you. I want you. But my brain tells me I don’t.
So my words are broken but my mind is made up.
I want to be with you but you don’t want to be with a f—- up.
I liked this boy for a long time. We dated for a bit but he didint like me so we ended things, we are still vERY close friends. I still like him to this day and I have since our relationship. He’s been really intimate lately and I set some boundaries because “he doesn’t like me.” I also don’t know how to have any sort of contact with anyone because my ex boyfriend was so possessive of me so now any physical contact makes me think that people are being romantic—which is obviously not the case. The guy I like is really touchy that’s why I put those boundaries. And today, he texted me and told me he now wants to go out, he didint ant to the first time because he had just gotten out of a breakup. But the way he said it was very vague. So, I didint want to asume anything, so I said “okay?” And he got very upset. Now I’m hoping things work out because I’m lonely and really like him. Let’s jsut hope my awkwardness doesn’t **** me.
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.
I'm a white rose, with a black shadow. I'm the moon, with a black mark. I'm the poetry, with all painful words. I'm the sky full of scars, My heart is filled with love, While my mind is haunting me, My soul is Galaxy which feels empty in space.
This poem has published in a book, "Bloom" On Nov.5th,2018 ❤️
We are the poor. We have no wealth. Don't ask about our mental health In fact walk past us. Don't ask why Just do not look us in the eye Especially if you knew us before When we wore socks and brushed our teeth And hadn't given up and sank beneath The awful maelstrom in our brain Of fear, pain and damning shame.
We are the shadow people But I see you, And I know that you have shadows too.
With disdain they looked upon one Billy McGee a boy that promised never to be; a rep that’s scarred and scratched, for sure his name’s mismatched as darker skin ya’ever did see on blackish hair with reddish flecks of Billy McGee.
A red haired aboriginal boy matches were only a toy and he was caught red handed and always branded the troublesome fire starter. Poor boy had no farda he was stolen in a generation; trouble, his one destination for any of his wild-sown seed. Never had a chance, Billy McGee.
An older poem which also featured in an older blog about an older time. It might be enjoyable to some. So it's here again, given a fresh breath to reveal another poetic side. Enjoy!
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.
I’m just tired. Tired of being broken. Tired of being forgotten. Tired of being used. Tired of feeling lost. TIred of being nothing. Tired of fighting myself to eat. Tired of feeling empty. Tired of feeling alone. Tired of Tired of doing everything for everyone; But getting nothing in return. Tired of being pulled back into this dark place. I’m just tired. Tired of crying.. Tired of breathing.. I’m just so tired..
As I lie in bed, I hear the street; the cars that pass like waves, the pavement tapped by rhythmic feet. And by my side, my love lies still. Her gentle breath, as slow as breeze, beneath the humming of an aeroplane. Above us all, the arching skies stretch further than our heavy limbs, can ever dream of traveling.
"Come to me," he said one night, and I will make your world alright; "I will fill your heart with love, my precious, little, snow white Dove." ~ I will calm your weary soul, never will you feel alone; Protect you from all types of harm, wrap you in my arms of warmth. ~ Cuddle you when you're afraid, give you what you've always craved; Dry the many tears you've cried, give you comfort, give you pride. ~ I will do all this for you, because my dear, I love you true; And if you should e'er need a friend, on me you can always depend.
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