christopher-lowe - Hello Poetry

Waves lapping at her ankles Tidal footprints vanishing As a seagull laughs above Down on her sun kissed cheeks That greet the ocean air It cannot be The tide that moves the ocean And yet There she was.

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Feb 2, 2020

Feb 2, 2020 at 1:09 AM UTC

There She Was

Waves lapping at her ankles Tidal footprints vanishing As a seagull laughs above Down on her sun kissed cheeks That greet the ocean air It cannot be The tide that moves the ocean And yet There she was.

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At first She was But a whisper in my heart A singular beat A fleeting moment That grew monumentally And Surely now Without her I'd experience death

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Nov 1, 2017

Nov 1, 2017 at 10:18 AM UTC

That's called falling in love

At first She was But a whisper in my heart A singular beat A fleeting moment That grew monumentally And Surely now Without her I'd experience death

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Controversially different in every single way And these things that used to be merely extensions Are moreover intertwined Into what now is only so called life So now really are we living or was it At some point what we saw as life just Simply changed or perhaps taken away Yet we stay Set in motion Not even realizing what has came And what is yet to come Predisposed To being perplexed Preoccupied with insecurities Addicted To just the feeling of motivation Being sickened by acting on it Diseased by overnight success and lies about happiness So I do not wonder why Some people have just simply Turned around

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Feb 15, 2017

Feb 15, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC

Pivot

Controversially different in every single way And these things that used to be merely extensions Are moreover intertwined Into what now is only so called life So now really are we living or was it At some point what we saw as life just Simply changed or perhaps taken away Yet we stay Set in motion Not even realizing what has came And what is yet to come Predisposed To being perplexed Preoccupied with insecurities Addicted To just the feeling of motivation Being sickened by acting on it Diseased by overnight success and lies about happiness So I do not wonder why Some people have just simply Turned around

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Even the wealthiest man may become a whisper for it is not the measure of wealth that creates legends but the wealth of measures one takes to make a difference.

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Dec 17, 2016

Dec 17, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC

A lot of people are poor

Even the wealthiest man may become a whisper for it is not the measure of wealth that creates legends but the wealth of measures one takes to make a difference.

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I have come to realize This perpetuated feeling Is neither unhappiness nor lack of joy But a feeling of my own creation That of boredom Seeking out the next thing to fascinate Only to yet again become bored You see I don’t really think sadness is a lack of happiness It is a lack of fulfillment It is the fact That time and time again Generation after generation We teach happiness through gratification Society has taught us to stop thinking To stop feeling happiness without the minutia The results are a stratification of people And a difference now in Humans And Human Beings

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Dec 6, 2016

Dec 6, 2016 at 3:17 PM UTC

The Question is What Should I Do?

I have come to realize This perpetuated feeling Is neither unhappiness nor lack of joy But a feeling of my own creation That of boredom Seeking out the next thing to fascinate Only to yet again become bored You see I don’t really think sadness is a lack of happiness It is a lack of fulfillment It is the fact That time and time again Generation after generation We teach happiness through gratification Society has taught us to stop thinking To stop feeling happiness without the minutia The results are a stratification of people And a difference now in Humans And Human Beings

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They talk about love like an atlas Places visited Things done Like love is a line between new places And they often forget About everything in-between Destinations, fascinating and beautiful But really how did you get there What about all the wrong turns And nowhere towns Clear travels and gravel roads See Love isn’t an atlas It is the rumble of the tires A window rolled down A road trip breeze So forget about where And ditch the map

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Aug 10, 2016

Aug 10, 2016 at 8:50 PM UTC

Tracing Routes

They talk about love like an atlas Places visited Things done Like love is a line between new places And they often forget About everything in-between Destinations, fascinating and beautiful But really how did you get there What about all the wrong turns And nowhere towns Clear travels and gravel roads See Love isn’t an atlas It is the rumble of the tires A window rolled down A road trip breeze So forget about where And ditch the map

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This mind is troubled and hard to find Muddled by drug and drink Caught in some manic depressive state Switching gears No one to talk to about these demons inside I know it’s just me talking to myself But the voice I hear is unfamiliar It has to be someone else Trapped in my head You see because I refuse to believe That something’s really wrong with me

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Jul 11, 2016

Jul 11, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC

Talking To Myself

This mind is troubled and hard to find Muddled by drug and drink Caught in some manic depressive state Switching gears No one to talk to about these demons inside I know it’s just me talking to myself But the voice I hear is unfamiliar It has to be someone else Trapped in my head You see because I refuse to believe That something’s really wrong with me

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Love isn’t a good morning text Or some other slanted Minuscule gesture It is a presence looming Craving to capture you Envelope you in your entirety But here we are waiting on a rose Or a gift A letter Perhaps if that’s what love has become Then I will hope I find something better

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Jul 5, 2016

Jul 5, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC

There Must Be Something Else

Love isn’t a good morning text Or some other slanted Minuscule gesture It is a presence looming Craving to capture you Envelope you in your entirety But here we are waiting on a rose Or a gift A letter Perhaps if that’s what love has become Then I will hope I find something better

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Life is but a single moment A flicker Each a glimmer of imperfection Because in that moment We share the moments of others And our imperfections conjoin To create tragedies and love stories So that Even in death Those moments echo on

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Apr 15, 2016

Apr 15, 2016 at 3:29 PM UTC

We Live This Moment

Life is but a single moment A flicker Each a glimmer of imperfection Because in that moment We share the moments of others And our imperfections conjoin To create tragedies and love stories So that Even in death Those moments echo on

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Once upon a time I was young Or that's how the story should go But truth be told I've never felt that old Others tell stories of youth In wonder Speaking about the glory years And I hear about the past And how they lived While I'm still living it And wonder If the best stories never told Are by those that decided I won't die while still living Because the best part of everything Is simply All the beginnings

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Mar 17, 2016

Mar 17, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC

The Living Dead

Once upon a time I was young Or that's how the story should go But truth be told I've never felt that old Others tell stories of youth In wonder Speaking about the glory years And I hear about the past And how they lived While I'm still living it And wonder If the best stories never told Are by those that decided I won't die while still living Because the best part of everything Is simply All the beginnings

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