adam-j-smith - Hello Poetry

Soft light dripping through my window The morning knows how I feel You're the silhouette upon my shoulder You're the singing of the day It's hard to pass you by leaving footsteps everywhere It's hard to even try but my music box will dare I may never know how you pluck away the cold Bittersweet spoken memories dipped in gold

0

Nov 25, 2013

Nov 25, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC

adam-j-smith

Across a Pond

Soft light dripping through my window The morning knows how I feel You're the silhouette upon my shoulder You're the singing of the day It's hard to pass you by leaving footsteps everywhere It's hard to even try but my music box will dare I may never know how you pluck away the cold Bittersweet spoken memories dipped in gold

16

Replace my veins with neon lights Replace my heart with an electric key Replace my eyes with shards of ice Replace the thoughts inside of me

0

Nov 24, 2013

Nov 24, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC

adam-j-smith

Processes

Replace my veins with neon lights Replace my heart with an electric key Replace my eyes with shards of ice Replace the thoughts inside of me

4

Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Wonderful Everything is.

0

Nov 24, 2013

Nov 24, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC

Sitting upon this old stump the middle of a forest dampened with secrets with actions with words with promises A quiet place with such loud screaming. At the end of every journey I always end up here Left in wonder an itch inside my skull a droning hum a beating drum hearken to the horrors suffocate in bliss ask yourself why Flying voids and crescent catapults slither up above. This quiet place so empty yet so full.

0

Nov 24, 2013

Nov 24, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC

adam-j-smith

Ellipse

Sitting upon this old stump the middle of a forest dampened with secrets with actions with words with promises A quiet place with such loud screaming. At the end of every journey I always end up here Left in wonder an itch inside my skull a droning hum a beating drum hearken to the horrors suffocate in bliss ask yourself why Flying voids and crescent catapults slither up above. This quiet place so empty yet so full.

20

When something you adore is out of grasp it can leave the soul in ache. Like a poison bite from the subtle asp dreams from you it will take.

0

Nov 23, 2013

Nov 23, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC

adam-j-smith

Stung

When something you adore is out of grasp it can leave the soul in ache. Like a poison bite from the subtle asp dreams from you it will take.

4

You are the elaborate mural painted ever so intricately within my mind. You are the thousands of hands pushing against my chest. You are the one who strings my harp from the strands of my being. Without you, art is dull. Words are meaningless. Water composed of fire becomes bittersweet. Walls of reality collapse. Without you, the colours of sound grow grey and tiresome.

0

Nov 20, 2013

Nov 20, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC

adam-j-smith

Untitled

You are the elaborate mural painted ever so intricately within my mind. You are the thousands of hands pushing against my chest. You are the one who strings my harp from the strands of my being. Without you, art is dull. Words are meaningless. Water composed of fire becomes bittersweet. Walls of reality collapse. Without you, the colours of sound grow grey and tiresome.

6

Subtle tastes of what could be future framework assemble within the cloud I often call my mind Stricken with notions of possibility swords of desire like pins through the mended quilt patches of past I shall not build upon certain stone cold or warm let the light ring through to my judgement before I set the first post

0

Nov 17, 2013

Nov 17, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC

adam-j-smith

It's a bit warm again

Subtle tastes of what could be future framework assemble within the cloud I often call my mind Stricken with notions of possibility swords of desire like pins through the mended quilt patches of past I shall not build upon certain stone cold or warm let the light ring through to my judgement before I set the first post

12