Blacklilac - Hello Poetry

I remember a dark and weary night, slowly losing sight— A sense of lost—an absence, if you must. Forevermore I slowly waste away—Sort of like rust. As I slept the night away—A nightmare awaits me. The darkness tonight is curious and awfully strange— The starlight that lights the way—Guides the wise men astray. No fear or hesitation stops the day. forevermore, the fear overwhelms me— Like a vicious stray dog ready to attack. I slowly begin to fade away—Again! Into a deep sleep or call it a somber. I am dreaming—Of death and bombers. Forevermore I awake—it's already another day. Like it never happened— Again I wander. The day is loud, and full wandering wonders—of a child. Excitement throughout— the valley of death. A war! Another fret? Another death! The children are dying!—Innocents. Mothers are crying— for the death of the younger one— Now nightmares are appearing. BOOM! BANG!!—The loud bangs. A deadly bang that rings throughout the land. Awake— reality seeping through these veins— As if they were chains digging in the fragile skin. Fevermore—do only nightmares wander? Those wandering wonders are dead. Lead to the valley of death—Where the unsaid is said. Nevermore shall there be wandering wonders. ~Shania

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May 29, 2018

May 29, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC

Blacklilac

Dreams can be nightmares too.

I remember a dark and weary night, slowly losing sight— A sense of lost—an absence, if you must. Forevermore I slowly waste away—Sort of like rust. As I slept the night away—A nightmare awaits me. The darkness tonight is curious and awfully strange— The starlight that lights the way—Guides the wise men astray. No fear or hesitation stops the day. forevermore, the fear overwhelms me— Like a vicious stray dog ready to attack. I slowly begin to fade away—Again! Into a deep sleep or call it a somber. I am dreaming—Of death and bombers. Forevermore I awake—it's already another day. Like it never happened— Again I wander. The day is loud, and full wandering wonders—of a child. Excitement throughout— the valley of death. A war! Another fret? Another death! The children are dying!—Innocents. Mothers are crying— for the death of the younger one— Now nightmares are appearing. BOOM! BANG!!—The loud bangs. A deadly bang that rings throughout the land. Awake— reality seeping through these veins— As if they were chains digging in the fragile skin. Fevermore—do only nightmares wander? Those wandering wonders are dead. Lead to the valley of death—Where the unsaid is said. Nevermore shall there be wandering wonders. ~Shania

28

Out my window—the leaves are bountiful like a song. Here I catch myself singing along. There and there they pull me in—A dance. But here I am—Stuck In. Out my window— I watch them fall. The leaves are not happy—Not happy at all. Why must you fall down? —They fall and they fall. Out my window—I see and I’ve seen it all. Where have you been and what have you seen? I ask myself this— something's amiss. My place in this. Out my window—I stare and I stare. Is there nothing to this?—To this Staring.

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Apr 30, 2018

Apr 30, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC

Blacklilac

Out my window

Out my window—the leaves are bountiful like a song. Here I catch myself singing along. There and there they pull me in—A dance. But here I am—Stuck In. Out my window— I watch them fall. The leaves are not happy—Not happy at all. Why must you fall down? —They fall and they fall. Out my window—I see and I’ve seen it all. Where have you been and what have you seen? I ask myself this— something's amiss. My place in this. Out my window—I stare and I stare. Is there nothing to this?—To this Staring.

14

Love is a flower that seems to have this sort of sour. A sort of dull, but sweetness that lingers. Here I am dancing with the singers. You bloom as the music is in you. Then you fall as the music turn to blues—Are you a moon? Are you swayed by the night as it passes with the swiftness light? As you spin around—Am I not the fool that is spinning in you? Am I not—Am I not—Enough! Love is a flower that grows and grows. It grows so much it hurts. It hurts so much—It’s love! Is love supposed to hurt? Your rosey vine with many sharp thorns— I must be careful of those who are torn— They sway and they sway— I will not be swayed away. I will not—And I will not—love like a flower.

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Apr 26, 2018

Apr 26, 2018 at 1:49 PM UTC

Blacklilac

Amour is a flower.

Love is a flower that seems to have this sort of sour. A sort of dull, but sweetness that lingers. Here I am dancing with the singers. You bloom as the music is in you. Then you fall as the music turn to blues—Are you a moon? Are you swayed by the night as it passes with the swiftness light? As you spin around—Am I not the fool that is spinning in you? Am I not—Am I not—Enough! Love is a flower that grows and grows. It grows so much it hurts. It hurts so much—It’s love! Is love supposed to hurt? Your rosey vine with many sharp thorns— I must be careful of those who are torn— They sway and they sway— I will not be swayed away. I will not—And I will not—love like a flower.

15

A dream is the night creeping on little cat feet. Slipping away into the shadows. Preying on the broken-winged bird attempting to fly away. Waking up from a deep sleep only to be caught again. ~Shania

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Apr 4, 2018

Apr 4, 2018 at 11:35 PM UTC

Blacklilac

The Dream

A dream is the night creeping on little cat feet. Slipping away into the shadows. Preying on the broken-winged bird attempting to fly away. Waking up from a deep sleep only to be caught again. ~Shania

5

- The core of your self Was not at all absent, you weren’t lost but bewildered To give up all of the pretending and just become. - The core of your self Stand your ground and come home You don't have to find your self, you just have to exist. - The core of your self Belonging or not belonging it's one’s true self to live - The core of yourself You don't have to find yourself. You just have to let yourself in. Let yourself be whole.

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May 18, 2017

May 18, 2017 at 12:46 PM UTC

Blacklilac

Yourself

- The core of your self Was not at all absent, you weren’t lost but bewildered To give up all of the pretending and just become. - The core of your self Stand your ground and come home You don't have to find your self, you just have to exist. - The core of your self Belonging or not belonging it's one’s true self to live - The core of yourself You don't have to find yourself. You just have to let yourself in. Let yourself be whole.

13

I think I'm just a dime in a dollar world. Feeling confused about my own action. I'm susceptible to kindness and vulnerable to temptation. Sympathetic toward those who are unfortunate than me Getting hurt by criticism. feeling childish for being lighthearted Going through an intense sentiment of confusion of who I am

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Apr 19, 2017

Apr 19, 2017 at 1:26 PM UTC

Blacklilac

Who

I think I'm just a dime in a dollar world. Feeling confused about my own action. I'm susceptible to kindness and vulnerable to temptation. Sympathetic toward those who are unfortunate than me Getting hurt by criticism. feeling childish for being lighthearted Going through an intense sentiment of confusion of who I am

7

The wind is so gentle, but yeht so cruel. Her cry can be poked through your logic. Her mind is adrift. Feeling empty, she breathes in and breathes out. Susceptible to his contention and getting hurt by his cloud. Her insecurities destroy her and making her silent.

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Apr 5, 2017

Apr 5, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC

Blacklilac

THE WIND

The wind is so gentle, but yeht so cruel. Her cry can be poked through your logic. Her mind is adrift. Feeling empty, she breathes in and breathes out. Susceptible to his contention and getting hurt by his cloud. Her insecurities destroy her and making her silent.

6

It's raining, the grief and the tears on his face unbearable to look at, only making me despise him more Hearing him grieving over the sound of her living The cruel reality Seeing him reject her death In denial But I know she was the only warmth that made him whole watching your tears running down her gravestone. I'm afraid you lost yourself

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Apr 4, 2017

Apr 4, 2017 at 1:30 PM UTC

Blacklilac

Rain

It's raining, the grief and the tears on his face unbearable to look at, only making me despise him more Hearing him grieving over the sound of her living The cruel reality Seeing him reject her death In denial But I know she was the only warmth that made him whole watching your tears running down her gravestone. I'm afraid you lost yourself

10

Like a empty room in a abandoned house She was silent Her thoughts were loud The wind screams through out her logic Why does she stay; if she can’t live Why does she live; if she has to stay Can she make it much further She would smoke a cigarette just to feel her mother’s lungs in her Coughing and pretending it burned because she missed the sound of her living. In the end she was alone again.

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Apr 4, 2017

Apr 4, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC

Blacklilac

Silence

Like a empty room in a abandoned house She was silent Her thoughts were loud The wind screams through out her logic Why does she stay; if she can’t live Why does she live; if she has to stay Can she make it much further She would smoke a cigarette just to feel her mother’s lungs in her Coughing and pretending it burned because she missed the sound of her living. In the end she was alone again.

11