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.
I don’t want to Open my mouth Because I’m still afraid The truth might come out And if it does If it really breaks free You’ll see what I am You’ll see the true me The one I hide With jokes and lies I’m a terrible person All jokes aside You don’t seem to know it You don’t seem to see Even a glimpse of that person That I know to be me I’m such a good actress I hide it so well Cover it with a laugh And you’ll never tell You see depth in my eyes You see love and emotion But what would you see If I ever did open I can’t bear to find out I can’t bear to show The me you don’t see The me that I know If I let it out If I let it be I know for a fact That you would hate 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 adore cold weather. But not for the fires, Or the warmth of another person. I find something beautiful about it, And maybe even a bit lonely. It reminds me of bittersweet loss, And finding the strength to move on.
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
Our ancestors owned plantations and had owned hundreds they had ocean cruising vessels and stocks and liveries worth millions in city banks and safes now we are reduced shamed disgraced and humbled for reds are not the new black and fashion has changed from flouncy drills to distressed pale genes all stained threadbare torn raggedly and faded like pages from old history books