becka-traite - Hello Poetry

What is it about sad songs that everybody likes? Is it the lyrics, the tune, the beat? Do they remind people that they're not alone? Do they give an excuse to cry? I think that the radio is saturated with sad songs. So many that there's no room for the happy. And when one happy song breaks through, it's like a breath of fresh air on a crowded train.

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Jan 16, 2011

Jan 16, 2011 at 8:01 AM UTC

Sad Songs

What is it about sad songs that everybody likes? Is it the lyrics, the tune, the beat? Do they remind people that they're not alone? Do they give an excuse to cry? I think that the radio is saturated with sad songs. So many that there's no room for the happy. And when one happy song breaks through, it's like a breath of fresh air on a crowded train.

16

I fight you. I work quickly Slowing your mind, your limbs, your speech. You feel me in your veins. The hit is wonderful. I make you droop. clumsy and slurring, you stay awake, typing, and scribbling. Finally, finally! You give in to my pull And sleep.

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Dec 4, 2010

Dec 4, 2010 at 3:31 AM UTC

Pill

I fight you. I work quickly Slowing your mind, your limbs, your speech. You feel me in your veins. The hit is wonderful. I make you droop. clumsy and slurring, you stay awake, typing, and scribbling. Finally, finally! You give in to my pull And sleep.

14

Dear Paul, Dearest Paul, I'm not pretending to understand. But I know. You feel worse than **** You feel worse than anyone can possibly imagine. You feel like no one cares. But we do. We all really, really care. We care so much that people who only met you once are crying for you. We care so much that some people are wishing they were with you, wherever you are. We love you Paul, and we all miss you dearly. Dear Paul, dearest Paul, Rest In Peace.

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Oct 21, 2010

Oct 21, 2010 at 12:21 PM UTC

Dear Paul

Dear Paul, Dearest Paul, I'm not pretending to understand. But I know. You feel worse than **** You feel worse than anyone can possibly imagine. You feel like no one cares. But we do. We all really, really care. We care so much that people who only met you once are crying for you. We care so much that some people are wishing they were with you, wherever you are. We love you Paul, and we all miss you dearly. Dear Paul, dearest Paul, Rest In Peace.

13

I guess you would call my style free verse punctuation if I feel like it stanzas willy-nilly I write my poetry in one sitting just going back to check the spelling I like my poetry to be my first and rawest thoughts I don't rhyme if I can help it, too much planning put into that When I feel like it I may draw inspiration from a favorite song or a conversation But most of the time it's just something that comes to mind or a personal experience This poem ***** I know, but when I write, I like to chose my topics not some assignment

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Mar 20, 2010

Mar 20, 2010 at 8:46 AM UTC

Style, a writing assignment

I guess you would call my style free verse punctuation if I feel like it stanzas willy-nilly I write my poetry in one sitting just going back to check the spelling I like my poetry to be my first and rawest thoughts I don't rhyme if I can help it, too much planning put into that When I feel like it I may draw inspiration from a favorite song or a conversation But most of the time it's just something that comes to mind or a personal experience This poem ***** I know, but when I write, I like to chose my topics not some assignment

24

It's sunny out today, beautiful weather, the best we've had in months. I could be out for a walk, reading on a sunny boulder in the woods or even at the beach, listening to the tides. But here I am, sitting at my desk writing about what I should be doing and listening to the children play and the birds sing. I guess it's a habit. Not going out. I got used to it when I had no friends to play with. I was always inside, reading, writing, or attached to a screen. Never out playing street hockey or basketball with the other kids. I guess I'm used to shopping concerts and eating by my self. But I still miss those days when I had the chance to run and jump and shout. Now here I am, full of self pity for opportunities missed and friends never made.

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Mar 20, 2010

Mar 20, 2010 at 8:32 AM UTC

Untitled 1

It's sunny out today, beautiful weather, the best we've had in months. I could be out for a walk, reading on a sunny boulder in the woods or even at the beach, listening to the tides. But here I am, sitting at my desk writing about what I should be doing and listening to the children play and the birds sing. I guess it's a habit. Not going out. I got used to it when I had no friends to play with. I was always inside, reading, writing, or attached to a screen. Never out playing street hockey or basketball with the other kids. I guess I'm used to shopping concerts and eating by my self. But I still miss those days when I had the chance to run and jump and shout. Now here I am, full of self pity for opportunities missed and friends never made.

27

I am being Followed I swear by those creatures in the corner of your eye I am being Followed I know by little monsters and larger beasts humanoid things and many legged creatures disappearing when looked at directly I am being stalked of course by my overactive imagination and shadows at least I hope so.

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Mar 20, 2010

Mar 20, 2010 at 8:18 AM UTC

I am being Followed

I am being Followed I swear by those creatures in the corner of your eye I am being Followed I know by little monsters and larger beasts humanoid things and many legged creatures disappearing when looked at directly I am being stalked of course by my overactive imagination and shadows at least I hope so.

17

A millions signatures, on a million photos, all by a different stranger. Because, who really knows the people in the limelight? Who really knows what they dowith their time? The tabloids try. The television shows say that they do. The websites have photos and first hand accounts. But who really knows,the people who autographed these photos?

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Feb 24, 2010

Feb 24, 2010 at 10:32 AM UTC

Autographs

A millions signatures, on a million photos, all by a different stranger. Because, who really knows the people in the limelight? Who really knows what they dowith their time? The tabloids try. The television shows say that they do. The websites have photos and first hand accounts. But who really knows,the people who autographed these photos?

12

The music listens to me not the reverse I dance to my own tune swaying to my own beat I am my own little drummer woman creating a tune of my own I sing my own harmony weaving through others' melody I paint my photograph using no light or dark or color at all I do my own thing being me my whole time.

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Feb 21, 2010

Feb 21, 2010 at 12:09 PM UTC

Individuality

The music listens to me not the reverse I dance to my own tune swaying to my own beat I am my own little drummer woman creating a tune of my own I sing my own harmony weaving through others' melody I paint my photograph using no light or dark or color at all I do my own thing being me my whole time.

12

To lose The Game You have to know the Rules Even though it's simple enough. When ever you think about The Game, you lose And must announce your loss. So basically, I just lost The Game.

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Feb 20, 2010

Feb 20, 2010 at 12:33 PM UTC

The Game

To lose The Game You have to know the Rules Even though it's simple enough. When ever you think about The Game, you lose And must announce your loss. So basically, I just lost The Game.

8

angora fur calico coat regal and aloof we thought you stupid 'till Xander came along rarely jumping never running lazy Koko-kitty loving but only on the water bed never on mine a traditional cat with an almost Persian face and the most adorable mew the mommy of the cats but never a mother or an aunt adopted from the shelter no longer feral and healthy as a horse

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Feb 11, 2010

Feb 11, 2010 at 11:06 AM UTC

Koko

angora fur calico coat regal and aloof we thought you stupid 'till Xander came along rarely jumping never running lazy Koko-kitty loving but only on the water bed never on mine a traditional cat with an almost Persian face and the most adorable mew the mommy of the cats but never a mother or an aunt adopted from the shelter no longer feral and healthy as a horse

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