erica-deangelo - Hello Poetry

It came and it went. It did not appear as a dream. It did appear even as a mere thought. My pen arouse from its slumber. It roared as it reached the pages, Not due to any approaching prey, Not due to fear. You see, these words never took much effort. In fact, I could sit and dwell and the words would come as if God himself was whispering in my ear. Perhaps, Perhaps, I’ve drowned myself in pages. Pages and pages of another’s work. Once I’ve reached their last pages, I cannot form a concept of what is true reality. I feel lost. I yearn so badly to be her. To be in that love. To be in that fight. Perhaps I yearned so badly it was involuntary that the pen was awoken. I awoke the pen. And I will write once more. She is back. And I will write this **** book.

0

Dec 20, 2024

Dec 20, 2024 at 4:30 PM UTC

She’s Back

It came and it went. It did not appear as a dream. It did appear even as a mere thought. My pen arouse from its slumber. It roared as it reached the pages, Not due to any approaching prey, Not due to fear. You see, these words never took much effort. In fact, I could sit and dwell and the words would come as if God himself was whispering in my ear. Perhaps, Perhaps, I’ve drowned myself in pages. Pages and pages of another’s work. Once I’ve reached their last pages, I cannot form a concept of what is true reality. I feel lost. I yearn so badly to be her. To be in that love. To be in that fight. Perhaps I yearned so badly it was involuntary that the pen was awoken. I awoke the pen. And I will write once more. She is back. And I will write this **** book.

25

For an odd reason, we place our pencils at rest. We tuck them to bed, and the darkness aids their slumber. It is not to blame. We, now the blossoming future, bring upon life but yet, have nothing to show. Our journal, it yearns for the ink of our great minds. A secret, A tale. A new beginning. But yet, we have nothing. We are nothing. And thus, our pages remain blank, and our lamp lacks oil.

0

Sep 3, 2020

Sep 3, 2020 at 12:15 AM UTC

a blank page

For an odd reason, we place our pencils at rest. We tuck them to bed, and the darkness aids their slumber. It is not to blame. We, now the blossoming future, bring upon life but yet, have nothing to show. Our journal, it yearns for the ink of our great minds. A secret, A tale. A new beginning. But yet, we have nothing. We are nothing. And thus, our pages remain blank, and our lamp lacks oil.

20

It seems quite funny how, though the world is spinning round and around everything appears quite still with you. The ever sweet feelings of consistency. The outside, can never compare to the sweetest of insides. The skin as soft, and gentle at even the firmest grip. Fragile, but never fearsome. The inside, oh how can one depict. A core, of pure blissfulness. A heart, which yearns to bring out a smile. A sunrise which yearns to bloom and bring warmth. And after? What is one left with? The pit of to be disposed? No, rather a memory. One is often said, to be "true to their roots." And for just as this peach, its core is a symbol of home. A yearn for a future. The seed brings you home. Home to those who love you. I shall forever bloom with you.

0

May 10, 2019

May 10, 2019 at 11:13 AM UTC

My Sweet Peach

It seems quite funny how, though the world is spinning round and around everything appears quite still with you. The ever sweet feelings of consistency. The outside, can never compare to the sweetest of insides. The skin as soft, and gentle at even the firmest grip. Fragile, but never fearsome. The inside, oh how can one depict. A core, of pure blissfulness. A heart, which yearns to bring out a smile. A sunrise which yearns to bloom and bring warmth. And after? What is one left with? The pit of to be disposed? No, rather a memory. One is often said, to be "true to their roots." And for just as this peach, its core is a symbol of home. A yearn for a future. The seed brings you home. Home to those who love you. I shall forever bloom with you.

35

I cannot hate you. I cannot create a sense of anger and discomfort, Because our chapters do not align. I cannot hate you. Footsteps pull one forward, Unless to choose to have them constrain you backwards. I cannot hate you. For love is defined as one who has a full heart. One who cannot be without, A sense of comfort and yearn. I cannot hate you. A prayer to God may not heal the future. For though I cannot hate you, I can make a move to love myself, And continue my chapter.. Without your silhouette on the cover.

0

Jan 2, 2019

Jan 2, 2019 at 12:28 AM UTC

My story without you

I cannot hate you. I cannot create a sense of anger and discomfort, Because our chapters do not align. I cannot hate you. Footsteps pull one forward, Unless to choose to have them constrain you backwards. I cannot hate you. For love is defined as one who has a full heart. One who cannot be without, A sense of comfort and yearn. I cannot hate you. A prayer to God may not heal the future. For though I cannot hate you, I can make a move to love myself, And continue my chapter.. Without your silhouette on the cover.

16

Him and I are unalike, that is why we fit together. You and I are for one another, that is why we are meant forever.

0

Sep 4, 2018

Sep 4, 2018 at 10:43 PM UTC

Untitled

Him and I are unalike, that is why we fit together. You and I are for one another, that is why we are meant forever.

4

Life takes turns, as a windy path. Perhaps leading somewhere in which you cannot see the end. Life leaves questions unanswered. Why do we live and die? Or perhaps something more simple as, why do red and blue mix and produce purple? For once, I do not yearn to have the question answered. I sit and ponder. Late nights can drown me and leave me even more wide eyed. The future. The future is as a blind driver. The future. We have the ability to become an artist. We paint the canvas now, for a step towards tomorrow. As I said, I do not wish the question to be answered. For, something has altered. Have you ever had one moment that changed all? It makes your head quite less dizzy, as if you could see your future through a crystal ball. Euphoria is often an end goal. We see ourselves somewhere. We see ourselves with someone. ***** makes the future less a blur, and more a world of color. Maybe, we cannot paint this someone. But, we can search. It is a question, in which I refuse to have answered. Because for once, I am letting it be.

0

Jun 3, 2018

Jun 3, 2018 at 10:42 PM UTC

The Difference

Life takes turns, as a windy path. Perhaps leading somewhere in which you cannot see the end. Life leaves questions unanswered. Why do we live and die? Or perhaps something more simple as, why do red and blue mix and produce purple? For once, I do not yearn to have the question answered. I sit and ponder. Late nights can drown me and leave me even more wide eyed. The future. The future is as a blind driver. The future. We have the ability to become an artist. We paint the canvas now, for a step towards tomorrow. As I said, I do not wish the question to be answered. For, something has altered. Have you ever had one moment that changed all? It makes your head quite less dizzy, as if you could see your future through a crystal ball. Euphoria is often an end goal. We see ourselves somewhere. We see ourselves with someone. ***** makes the future less a blur, and more a world of color. Maybe, we cannot paint this someone. But, we can search. It is a question, in which I refuse to have answered. Because for once, I am letting it be.

39

I told myself, Something does not feel exactly sound, And I realized I had not written a poem, A good poem, In about a month. So I came back. I am here with something rather visual And known, But very uncovered. By myself, At least. I yearn to be blunt, But as a writer I am a dancer with a pen. I have an issue with food. Now, This is not a plea for help. This is not a secret. This is acceptance. I have come to an understanding with myself. A concept, I am rather proud of. I would not speak, That I do not love myself. Because I have a wonderful and beautiful life. A blessing day after day. But, I have an issue with food. Something, Just keeps my mind, Versus My mirrored image, Not in accord. I spend a great deal of time, In deep thought. Often, In the darkness before I close my eyes. I contemplate, If food, Is worth it the next day. Do not get me wrong, I enjoy sweets As much as the next girl. Yeah, Her over there. But often, After I do enjoy, Everything blurs around me. All I can do Is reminisce On what has just entered my stomach. Is it worth it? The bathroom is right around the corner.. It’s not sadness. It’s not a cry for help. It’s just an issue with food.

0

Mar 27, 2018

Mar 27, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC

Eat

I told myself, Something does not feel exactly sound, And I realized I had not written a poem, A good poem, In about a month. So I came back. I am here with something rather visual And known, But very uncovered. By myself, At least. I yearn to be blunt, But as a writer I am a dancer with a pen. I have an issue with food. Now, This is not a plea for help. This is not a secret. This is acceptance. I have come to an understanding with myself. A concept, I am rather proud of. I would not speak, That I do not love myself. Because I have a wonderful and beautiful life. A blessing day after day. But, I have an issue with food. Something, Just keeps my mind, Versus My mirrored image, Not in accord. I spend a great deal of time, In deep thought. Often, In the darkness before I close my eyes. I contemplate, If food, Is worth it the next day. Do not get me wrong, I enjoy sweets As much as the next girl. Yeah, Her over there. But often, After I do enjoy, Everything blurs around me. All I can do Is reminisce On what has just entered my stomach. Is it worth it? The bathroom is right around the corner.. It’s not sadness. It’s not a cry for help. It’s just an issue with food.

58

I fell in love with you. A silent love. A single sided love-only I felt. I prayed that you’d want me one day. Someday. That day hasn’t come. I promised myself I’d wait. That a shooting star would graze the sky-and youyou’d realize you can’t live without me. Life does not grant miracles, but Jesus hears prayers. He reassured me. He reassures me that I will be okay without your blue eyes staring into mine. That it is okay to let you go. I illustrated a tale in my head, titled “you love me as I love you.” But that novel is nonexistent-and that is alright. Because, maybe not today, or tomorrow, I will smile as you hold another. I will one day laugh with another. The book is not finished, and that is okay. The book no longer includes you. And that is alright.

0

Feb 11, 2018

Feb 11, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC

A blue Twenty

I fell in love with you. A silent love. A single sided love-only I felt. I prayed that you’d want me one day. Someday. That day hasn’t come. I promised myself I’d wait. That a shooting star would graze the sky-and youyou’d realize you can’t live without me. Life does not grant miracles, but Jesus hears prayers. He reassured me. He reassures me that I will be okay without your blue eyes staring into mine. That it is okay to let you go. I illustrated a tale in my head, titled “you love me as I love you.” But that novel is nonexistent-and that is alright. Because, maybe not today, or tomorrow, I will smile as you hold another. I will one day laugh with another. The book is not finished, and that is okay. The book no longer includes you. And that is alright.

1

We tend to see life, from a third person view. We look. We feel. We think.. but maybe too much of ourselves. We forget the others, face to face with us. You see, you can state, that he or she's feelings matter.. but in a reality when you want, they do not bring a thought to your mind. You forget. Who? They do not return. A fantasy is a fantasy. A pray remains a pray. God keeps them away, because of what is face to face with you. But you refuse to see.. because you want. You forget that person. That beating heart. A smile that breaks into care. You forget.. because you want. You want what will not return.

0

Dec 10, 2017

Dec 10, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC

Forget

We tend to see life, from a third person view. We look. We feel. We think.. but maybe too much of ourselves. We forget the others, face to face with us. You see, you can state, that he or she's feelings matter.. but in a reality when you want, they do not bring a thought to your mind. You forget. Who? They do not return. A fantasy is a fantasy. A pray remains a pray. God keeps them away, because of what is face to face with you. But you refuse to see.. because you want. You forget that person. That beating heart. A smile that breaks into care. You forget.. because you want. You want what will not return.

28

Understand, my heart played that dangerous game, for many years.. without knowing the rules. Love is as a magic trick. Being blind is like another sad tune. Our eyes see, but our hearts are covered. And once more, I’ve been fooled.

0

Nov 25, 2017

Nov 25, 2017 at 2:21 AM UTC

Untitled

Understand, my heart played that dangerous game, for many years.. without knowing the rules. Love is as a magic trick. Being blind is like another sad tune. Our eyes see, but our hearts are covered. And once more, I’ve been fooled.

10