Dreamscape twilight skies Gentle light, blue and pale Arms embracing love and life Breathing fast and frail Passioned gasp and sigh Inspired by bone sharp nails Tracing down soft thighs Round supple tail Chasing chills up her spine Neck arching sweetly impaled Pupils lock eyes Shared ecstasy exhale Spirit-minds entwine Heart's promise, eternity trails
Was i a stepping stone? A little r o c k to get where you are now? Perhaps that must have been fun... Maybe our definition of fun do not compare to be the same now - I used to have fun when you would be around, maybe for you too... but not in the same way that I found.
What is gender? What is a girl? What is a boy? What makes these people different? What is pink? What is blue? What makes these colors different? What is it? Clothes? Style? Hair? Chests? Pants? Skirts? Dresses? Suits? What makes these people different? You say: ‘Your chromosomes’ But what about ‘x’ What about ‘xxy’ What about ‘xyy’ What about ‘xxxy’ What do you say about these? Someones genitalia doesn't make them Someone's chromosomes doesn't make them What makes a person a person Is the person.
I am a trans man, who has lived my whole life trying to fit into a box. I'm tired of it. i just want people to understand that no matter what, a person is a person, no matter what they believe or identify with/as.
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 write for you in this poem A letter from my heart I can't promise forever But I can promise a start So when the world opens up And pulls us apart I will know I've done my best By loving you until we depart
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.
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
Was it Witchcraft? Magic? We weren't sure. We were just children. But we were witness to a manipulation of all things that abound. There was influences on objects of nature. Emanations of psychic force. Like on cold nights where an ethereal spirit box would quietly hum as it breathed warm air into our play room. (turned out to be a heater). Or where magically an upright coffin full of tasty morsels stood at the ready for hungry tummies. (Later we recognized it as a refrigerator). Where mysteriously cold water turned hot, spilling from an orifice into a cauldron where upon us kids were placed like happy little guppies. (this we later knew as a bathtub). Was it super natural powers, magic, sorcery? Back then it was. Because me and sister were just little kids. And the SHE in control of all these magical powers? She was our mother.
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.
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 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.