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)
To live is more than breathing It is more than movement or gesture To live is more than routine It is more than setting goals or placing limits To live is more than simple reasoning It is more than can be quickly understood or accomplished To really live is a rare effort It must be carefully encountered and wisely negotiated To really live is to act It is taking and giving accepting and sacrificing To live is joy and pain To live is to do more than just exist To live is to stand up and actually LIVE
"More Than Breathing" is inspired by the Oscar Wilde quote, "To live is the rarest thing in the world - most people just exist."
I’m buried in a cocoon of stories From poetry, To biographies, To dystopia, And romance So many stories Of so many people Real, Or just figments of the author’s Imagination Sitting atop wooden bookshelves Waiting for the right person, To pick them up And get lost in their story For everyone has a story to tell, Some are overly exaggerated, And other’s are rarely heard The important thing is That we share our stories Through word of mouth, The internet, Or in a notebook To be found by future historians Tell your story Believe me, you won’t regret it
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.
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.
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 scent of lake water or fresh ocean breeze, nearby forests of moss, pine, juniper and summer green leaves. the birds chirping, singing in trees. The summer sun sparkles its spotlight across the lake. Live, explore, hike, swim.... the day is yours to take! This land, in awe, so captivating with mountains majestic; "oh can't you see? Awake, and adventure in beautiful, summer of captivating... BC.
Tonight I hugged an angel And it made my night As she looked me in the eyes And held me real tight I sang to her a song And I saw her dance As her stunning beauty Had me in a trance Tonight I met an angel And she made me so happy Tonight I was in heaven Because she talked to me
I'm not your canvas; you can't paint over me. My mistakes, my life, it's whom I want to be. So go _________ take your _________ paintbrush and your paint, too, because I love my every stain, and I'll keep every color; red, green, or blue.
By my every stain I mean my every mistake or misfortune, because I learn from each one of them.
I hope it looks somewhat like a paintbrush. I messed around with it, and the result is before your eyes.
Lily pollens glow rain of tears drops though it rained petals glow lily gleam and glow through it reverses time night crickets chitter in joy clock hand reverse twelve midnight bell rings willow leaves raddle like reindeer bells pasture sound chitters and shallow river flow down the stream fast the wind made tree leaves raddle so quick time stopped beneath my feet.