YupItsLiz
Joy is when happiness isn't faked or short. / I strive for it, but I often don't reach it. / My poems are me, my heart and my soul. / Read them; like them if you find pleasure or agreement in them. / Some of my poems may be fictional, but that is my liberty. / I'm just a simple writer, telling the world my stories.
It's been too long,
Too brief,
Too distant.
Why do I still have you clinging in my brain.
Can years wash away love?
I haven't found it to be true yet.
Please tell me Em
Aug 10, 2021
Aug 10, 2021 at 1:20 AM UTC
Pushing my bike up the hill as others ride up it.
Their eyes both laugh at me and judge me.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
The best of authors can't write poetry.
The best of poets cannot sing.
The best of anything has weak points.
There is no best of everything.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 8:56 AM UTC
I hear the yells for war,
people are screaming them daily
while the rest of us lie on our backs
crying because we're too lazy.
We're too tired,
we've got too much to do,
too much to stress for.
Meanwhile we're living big,
living rich in a land that's already been paid for.
Paid for by all of the original owners' blood.
The ones we felt the need to sacrifice
felt the need to ****** and **** just to get a land we could have shared if not for our big glorious dream,
a dream that nobody else can be included in.
It's a dream that has no resolution,
after all who really keeps their New Year's resolution.
Well another year has passed and we're just getting worse!
In the words of John Brown before he was hung,
"the crimes of this guilty land will never purged away
but with Blood."
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 6:53 AM UTC
She walks behind the pack
so no one can see her stumble.
She walks behind the pack
to console the ones who fall behind.
She walks behind the pack
because she isn't as confident as the front man.
She stays strong for others.
They are more important in her eyes.
Her eyes that only cry alone.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 11:12 AM UTC
I'll make you a doll of clay;
I'll fire it and paint it for you.
You can love the doll or break it.
Take the doll instead of me,
so if the doll gets broken I'd still be okay.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 7:57 AM UTC
You walk through your garden;
I am standing tall.
You pick up the lilies,
the daisies,
the honeysuckles,
and the petunias.
You put them all together carefully
and place them in a vase.
Then you return to glance once more at me.
You rip me out by my roots and throw me into the trash.
The bouquet is on the table mocking me while I rot alone.
I die fast, but the flowers slowly whither away where all can see.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 9:29 PM UTC
I hate seeing you,
but when you're gone I look for you.
I hate when you smile at her;
I miss owning your smile.
I don't want you to love me,
but I wouldn't want you to love another.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
There was a thing with nothing,
No form,
No gender,
No name,
No home,
No diety.
It roamed by itself with no one.
No girl,
No boy,
No anything,
No direction.
It bumped into another thing who had,
No form,
No gender,
No name,
No home,
No diety.
It felt a feeling it never had felt.
The feeling grew the longer it was near the other thing.
The other thing felt it too.
A light flicked on and showed the two things' true forms.
Did the feeling stop?
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
When my words flow
like a garden hose stream,
When my eyes light
like a burning ball of gas,
When my cheeks look
like a warm summer sunset,
When my feet bounce around
like a child on springs,
Then you'll know that I love you.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC