Early May. Grass now green. Lilacs bloom. Red, yellow, blue tulips supplant winter's cold. Warmer air now through her hair fair and golden. We kiss. Robins, bluebirds try out their wings. Skies take on blue's hue. Hope palpable fills fields once buried in silver snow. We know wheat and barley begin to grow. Maple tree leaves are being born on only weeks ago were barren limbs. Spring sings.
In the morning of yesterday There were strangers talking in my garden, heads close together Intent on each other, in whispers I heard them say your name And the earth shifted a little...the season moved forward a little And I heard myself sigh like a dreamer
Harvesting hearts and marigolds The thief steals in when we least expect it, masqued and lithe Wanting an exploration of Souls Oblivious, if we’re generous But still the knife cuts deeply...the blade turns without intention And I’m bleeding out like a Madrigal
I loved you too much in the Mirrorfall I found you in the violin’s shadow Dust and star tears are my witnesses I love you My joy and my abyss
As my heart aches Falls apart and breaks I feel at peace My emotions cease I exist in solitary Forever wary Of things to haunt me As I nestle into to a fir tree I felt broken I felt stolen By the girl who Whisked my heart askew As I stare into my despair I tell you beware Of the heartbroken world That is worse than the underworld Endless darkness Endless starkness Nothing to feel Nothing to conceal That nothing is worse Than the broken heart curse
i found you when i wasn’t even searching a breath of fresh air after being in deep water for so long a running and laughing down an empty hallway type of love a love where i don’t say that i’m sad you just feel it a love so pure that nothing needs to be said it is known.
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 feels like my wrists are burning Blood is dripping down my arms My head keeps screaming I shouldn't of self-harmed. My mom is going to be mad. She's going to hit me again. Give me another bruise. Now my scars have some friends. Just wash off the blood. Dry off with the towel. Wrap up your arms. Go back to your personal bubble. Isolate yourself for another week little girl. Take you medicine. And jump off the hill.
Dearest one Wasn’t one Single mistaken Heart breaking Before It was even us Making It up as we went along Somehow connected Unbound And unburdened Affections Defected From system schismatics Too ******-frenetic Forget it It’s better off Dead and regretted
The way you stand The way you sit The way you secretly laugh for a bit You’ve been hurt You’ve been broken And yet your heart is wide open You think no one sees You think no one cares But that is really just not fair Because I see Because I do My heart is filled by just looking at you
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'm sitting here thinking about what i actually have and all too quickly realizing that it's nothing i have nothing i am alone but that's not how i wanted it i just don't want to be a burden and i mess every relationship up i wish i knew what to do right now because i'm scared that will never get any better
its hard to hide the way you feel, losing the will on truthful words, forgetting what is real its hard when you are scared of laughing or crying, that someone will see your agony and pain from which you are suffering from, and you forget to laugh , you forget your happiest and cheerful nature, because of the fear that someone may know about you and will start to judge you, and may you will loss the love of your friends and family, when you are sad , its hard to pretend that you are happy When you are terrified that someone might ask about your situation and and your sadness, then what will you answer to them, its becoming harder every day, its becoming harder to lie and hide things, its becoming a very hard task of life.