when i was a kid i always wonder why the moon kept following me is she my best friend? my protector during the nights i walk alone? until i grew older and find her presence my peace started telling her my secrets and dreams sometimes we share our tears we will talk all night together we will fall asleep
Not only does the night wind carry the scent of you, not only does the day begin in light of you, but this love, like a sculpted thing, like Michelangelo chiseling his David into being lives in light of exclusion, lives in light of all that has not its beauty.
This love with all its splendour of necessity is encircled by a wall. To love everything would mean to love nothing at all.
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.
You don’t know what is like to love God God is you father And he is the one that made you with His hands holy hands many years Ago and placed you Here on earth to live Friends I do love my God So why don’t you love my God? Is it very hard for you to love God? Please don’t forget to give love to God Because he needs some love Back from you Also You are so ungrateful For the things my God had Made for you Friends I have everything that My God gave to me He gave me a wonderful life To live And I also feel that been Blessed by God The life my God gave to me Is a simple life to life Here on earth Friends I don’t have much money to live But I don’t care for money I don’t spend my money like Water I try to save my money And sometimes I have to Stretch my money And I also find it hard to do Also I never stay up late I go to bed around 9:00 pm And I sleep like a log
- a tasteless empty word like numbness of the fingers like numbness of the tongue a numbness of heart and false plastic lungs - bland face bland skin bland stomach and bland eyes - gleaming with wax satisfaction in a false candle pose bland wax candle prose written by plain poet hands -
I am a wax figurine poet who writes beautiful but bland verses.
From sixteen to sixty And all the days in between From a lassie then a lady To the woman in my dream From sketch book to painting From wondering and waiting To building and creating With fireworks and gold plating From all that you mean To being my queen From nowhere to forever And all the days in between.
Later this year my wife turns 60! I've written this with that in mind.
i can still hear the sound of your voice and smell the scent of your skin....i can tell you more of what i remember but where do i begin... even though i am not right beside you..i am always with you believe it because it is true forever you will be in my heart and make it beat.....for the rest of my life the love i have for you will never take a back seat.
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
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.
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
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
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 don’t want to be your scapegoat Your reason to quit or fail Don’t sabotage your future Or stop from setting sail Go off on adventures Travel; see the world Don’t hold life close to the vest Rather, let it all unfurl
i still do not know the poem i've been trying to write and maybe that's because i haven't been writing one at all or maybe it's because the poem i've been trying to write is not ready for paper and maybe i'm the paper that's not ready for it