aj1z2011
I love poetry. I love it in its simplicity and its complexity. Poetry reaches down into the soul and pulls out those deep emotions and turns them into images that can be seen by all. For me, poetry exposes all of the shades of grey and brightens all of the colours in this world. / / For me...poetry brings to light that which I cannot on my own.
My heart shouldn’t have profusely bled
I saw her face only once
a moment’s crossing in a moment paid
not meant for a second chance!
The fire shouldn’t have leapt in me
she was a doomed emotion
trying to live in my penned poetry
meant to be only a notion!
My mind shouldn’t have imprisoned her
caged her from one mere glance
lived the phantom of an absurd affair
spilled ink in a mad trance!
I shouldn’t have sought her anymore
searched in the wild her trace
she couldn’t be my paramour
I saw from the crowd her face!
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
She see's him...
Their naked bodies. Lights on, shades and windows wide open.
Fully exposed.
They have no shame,
they look lively,
happy,
ecstatic.
And she wonders what she's doing wrong.
Has she done something wrong?
Although she's known about the other woman.
She's been knowing and has said nothing... Done nothing.
Why?
Why doesn't she bring her words aloud?
Thought's roam the surface?
Feelings strike freely?
She deserves answers.
She deserves to go and be gone.
Live her life without asking.
Obviously he does not do so, so why must she?
She does not change her image, she does not stand and fight.
She does not release the lies he's told and the truths she knows.
You can finally go..
Finally leave..
Why do you stay? Why not leave?
Can't she leave and not look back?
You're obviously not enough for him, so why should he be for you?
You deserve better!
An innocent should not be with the unfaithful.
You are nature and he's a one eyed mischievous slithering snake.
Continue your ever so loving cherishing life.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead.
Your hands once touched this table and this silver,
And I have seen your fingers hold this glass.
These things do not remember you, beloved,--
And yet your touch upon them will not pass.
For it was in my heart you moved among them,
And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes;
And in my heart they will remember always,--
They knew you once, O beautiful and wise.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 9:52 PM UTC
You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to feel the pain but only see the blood
You think I don’t know what it’s like to feel everything but feel nothing
You think I don’t know what it’s like to awake but still be asleep
You think I don’t know what it’s like to be alive but not living
You think I don’t know what it’s like to want death but only life remains
You think I don’t know what it’s like to want life but only death exists
You think I don’t know what it’s like to want you but not want you
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC