And if these could be my last few words to the world, And if this could be my last poem to be written, Torned out entirely, but rigid inside Sad by looking, but happy inside, I would write, one word, "Companion".
Nails Hammered into crevices Corroding the mind That is already scarred Scared not of consequence But of scolding For releasing the pain Brings pain to more Yet, if it cannot be removed What else is nevermore?
For a moment you a moonlit dream, me a grounded reality got intertwined. You the best of good, me the worst of bad met at the right corner of the round world. However, like a flame finding fuel, my fear of the lovely dawn solidifies. Alas, the dream that can't be grasped has finally disappeared.
u see the knife you watch the glow u see me smile but can't hear me cry u think i'm happy but inside i'm breaking u see the blood then u realize that i wasn't lying when i said i'm depressed! u wish u gave me the support i needed but now it's too late. I'm dying inside...
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)
The tragedy is there's a prison in my mind all the thoughts that lurk there are ones I wish were never mine they etch into my heart the scars I wear so bright
They whisper wicked stories of things that never happened or maybe things that did things that shouldn't create ripples in the current in my life but here I lay in bed stuck awake at night eyes cutting blankly through the nothingness of my cold and dark bedroom
I don't feel special, I'm not unique. I want to cry but I can't even speak. My hands reach out, but they cannot hold a single thing but the bitter cold. Everything's frozen, I feel lost. Even my tears have turned to frost. When I cut my waist it bleeds black. I'm so deeply gone there's no way back. This is goodbye
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 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.
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
for once I was believing in myself believing there could be something I could be good at, decent at, something I didn't have to fail at: but before I even got to do it I became interrupted, obstructed in this belief: for once I felt I could be empowered, I could explore myself through something but now that courage and confidence I thought I could grab seems far away from me. I feel defeated and broken before I could bloom. Please, water me, so that I can continue on. I know you cannot bloom for me, but please, water me. Please give me sun.
I think I’d rather be your friend Than your wife You speak to your friends all the time You laugh on the phone And share ideas And secrets While As you wife I clean And cook And take care of you And miss out On all the joys of being your friend So I think I’d rather Be your friend