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aj-busse
F Hello friends! I'm AJBusse. I adore poetry, and write poems about nearly everything. I want the world to hear my words, and if you're reading this, Welcome! And thank you for stopping by. I hope you have a good time while you're here. Love you!
You're a boy of clear seas and early mornings Messy hair and smiles Grass splintered sneakers and a laugh that makes the world shake Storms on the water that drift into pink Lonesome words looking for a heart Rose petals pressed between your fingertips And music that gushes and flows And bounces and calls Through the air And the ground And the water that sits there too You're red velvet cupcakes with creamcheese frosting You're fluffy white clouds that drift in the sky You're all of the little beautiful things you find in far off lands You're a boy of sweet dreams and cherry tomatoes A boy of careful daisies and gentle hands A boy of purple lighting that doesn't touch the Earth A boy of sweet lemon tea that sits in my glass A boy of honey and suger and mint A boy of thyme and rhyme A boy of silly words and careful thoughts A boy made of marble so beautiful and perfect AJBusse
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Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 8:03 PM UTC
A Marble Boy
Have you ever Tried to eat something while you were crying? And it feels like a stick of lead in your mouth In between the sobs and tears? Because me too. And, I am so sorry my love. Things will get better. I know they will. AJBusse
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Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 6:47 PM UTC
Untitled
I think it's cute The way you bounce your leg In a constant stream of your mind I can see the thoughts whip through your head and heart I think it's cute Because I do it I think too much Way too much But I know you do too, So maybe, Maybe, we can overthink together AJBusse
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Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 12:35 PM UTC
Overthinking
I love writing Stories Chapters Poems I love that idea Of just emotions and ink With a pen And a surface, Poets And writers Can create worlds Ideas Emotions Out of nothing How magical is that? AJBusse
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Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 5:48 PM UTC
The magic of writers
I value the little things The way the sun bounces off trees The way I smile when I get mail The way dogs jump when you talk to them The way people smile in crowded places The way people drag their fingers across the spines of books The way little kids go down slides The way the air stings my throat in the winter The way business owners call me "Love," The way people get excited when they smell candles The way people dance when they eat good food The way music sounds in good headphones The way cats rub their faces on plants The way hardcovers crack when you first open them The way pages smell with fresh ink The way your eyes glitter in the sunlight The way you look at me The way you love me AJBusse
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Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 5:38 PM UTC
Our Little World
Oh my friend, This can't end well Your smile sets my heart aflame Your eyes rock my world Your humor pokes at my lips The way your laugh bounces Makes my knees weak This can't end well My love, This can't end well For a thought of you is always in my head My heart skips a beat when you look at me This really can't end well AJBusse
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Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 5:31 PM UTC
Won't End Well
Sometimes I think of your eyes The way they look blue From across a room But the way they really aren't Not even close My sweet, your eyes are such a lovely green They dance across mine as you smile Oh do I love that green With that layer of grey Some call that strange, Or dull But they're so wrong Your eyes hold years of joy and pain In that deep green hue with a layer of grey Oh do I love that way you look at me AJBusse
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Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 5:25 PM UTC
That green hue
"Do you believe in love?" Asked the girl "Yes and no," Said the coyote "Love is beautiful," Said the girl "But it is also painful," Said the coyote "But aren't beautiful things worth pain?" Asked the girl "That, my friend, is a question for the stars." Said the coyote "I love you coyote," The coyote smiled "I love you too." AJBusse
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Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 5:20 PM UTC
The Girl and the Coyote
Who am I? I’m from the smell of seasons passing in the blink of an eye. The smell of spring, and summer, and fall, and the painful scent of winter. I’m from giggles in the car with Reginald and Rose the foxes and their adventures through worlds. I am from trips to the library, where I beg to get tens of thousands of books. From the dusty rocks on my elementary school playground. From songs that ring in my head when I close my eyes. From peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that I gave to the dog. From phrases that sit in my soul and sing to me whenever I’m in the big wide world. Skate with your head up: Kommen Sie, Bitte: Let the knife do the work: Slow and gentle: One hand, From reading Hungry Little Caterpillar on the floor as my dad records me. I’m from singing Frozen at the top of my lungs in the living room. I’m from braces in second grade that wrenched and pulled my teeth. I’m from countless restless nights and early mornings; where the darkness coos to me to sleep. I’m from bear hugging my cousins, to laughing at their jokes that I never understood. I’m from Food Network in vacation hotel rooms. From chasing seagulls on the beach as I stomp on shells and salt sprays in my face. From making clay pots when the air was hot and sticky, and my skin was pink with sun. From my grandpa pretending to eat the Play Doh milkshake I made. From countless walks in the woods, where the birds sung to me, and the sunshine embraced me. I’m from losing people like water slips through cracks in the concrete. I’m from being the last to be chosen. I’m from being the friend that walks on the grass. The girl that was always left behind. I’m from being the second choice. The person someone picked another girl over. I’m from feeling like I’m constantly doing something wrong. I’m from looking up at the sky and wondering why they would hurt me like this. But most of all. I’m from throwing myself into people I love. Holding them tight. Even if they wriggle from my grasp. From screaming into the sky the names of people who love me. And people I never want to lose. From giving people my everything. From calling out into the world for someone to treat me the way I always treat everyone else. And the world answered. I’m from tears, to letting go of people who can’t handle me. From letting go of people who don’t understand me. I’m from healing. From forgiveness. From joy. So so much joy. I’m from the grass, and the wind, and the songs of the Earth and melodies of who I’m meant to be. From the flowers, the trees, the mountains, and the leaves. From the waterfalls hidden behind rocks that no one could see. From the magic the dances in the air. From years of love. I’m from me. A.J. Busse
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Dec 10, 2020
Dec 10, 2020 at 9:14 PM UTC
Who am I?
Who am I? I’m from the smell of seasons passing in the blink of an eye. The smell of spring, and summer, and fall, and the painful scent of winter. I’m from giggles in the car with Reginald and Rose the foxes and their adventures through worlds. I am from trips to the library, where I beg to get tens of thousands of books. From the dusty rocks on my elementary school playground. From songs that ring in my head when I close my eyes. From peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that I gave to the dog. From phrases that sit in my soul and sing to me whenever I’m in the big wide world. Skate with your head up: Kommen Sie, Bitte: Let the knife do the work: Slow and gentle: One hand, From reading Hungry Little Caterpillar on the floor as my dad records me. I’m from singing Frozen at the top of my lungs in the living room. I’m from braces in second grade that wrenched and pulled my teeth. I’m from countless restless nights and early mornings; where the darkness coos to me to sleep. I’m from bear hugging my cousins, to laughing at their jokes that I never understood. I’m from Food Network in vacation hotel rooms. From chasing seagulls on the beach as I stomp on shells and salt sprays in my face. From making clay pots when the air was hot and sticky, and my skin was pink with sun. From my grandpa pretending to eat the Play Doh milkshake I made. From countless walks in the woods, where the birds sung to me, and the sunshine embraced me. I’m from losing people like water slips through cracks in the concrete. I’m from being the last to be chosen. I’m from being the friend that walks on the grass. The girl that was always left behind. I’m from being the second choice. The person someone picked another girl over. I’m from feeling like I’m constantly doing something wrong. I’m from looking up at the sky and wondering why they would hurt me like this. But most of all. I’m from throwing myself into people I love. Holding them tight. Even if they wriggle from my grasp. From screaming into the sky the names of people who love me. And people I never want to lose. From giving people my everything. From calling out into the world for someone to treat me the way I always treat everyone else. And the world answered. I’m from tears, to letting go of people who can’t handle me. From letting go of people who don’t understand me. I’m from healing. From forgiveness. From joy. So so much joy. I’m from the grass, and the wind, and the songs of the Earth and melodies of who I’m meant to be. From the flowers, the trees, the mountains, and the leaves. From the waterfalls hidden behind rocks that no one could see. From the magic the dances in the air. From years of love. I’m from me. A.J. Busse
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Extraordinary Things I feel like we’re always searching For the perfect life For a story For our story We want to live an extraordinary life But The truth is, Our lives are more extraordinary than any book character's could be Because we’re real Our stories are better than any dragon slayer Or princess Or cyborg Just because someone’s story is different than your's Doesn't mean your’s, or their's, is any less important Stories are meant to give us things we don’t have To improve our already extraordinary lives They lead us into worlds far away from our own They give us hope for love and friendship And perseverance Books were written for the better Written to make us feel Written to make us look out on our world and be grateful The hardest thing to learn is how fantastical our everyday adventures are And frankly, We have to stop waiting for our fairy godmother Or a wizard Or a beast We are the owners of our lives We can choose whether or not our lives are extraordinary If you were to sit back And think of everything impossible thing you want to do What would you think of? What would be stopping you? You have to realize, If you gut through this Any of this If you work hard If you keep your loved ones close You can achieve anything I know that sounds cliché, But geez You are way more powerful than you think A.J Busse
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Dec 10, 2020
Dec 10, 2020 at 9:13 PM UTC
Extraordinary Things