fille_de_beau_poete - Hello Poetry

Isn’t it sad how I have to remind Myself I am worth it Isn’t it sad how I have to force Myself not to listen To your words Isn’t it sad how I have to smile When I am crying On the inside Isn’t is sad how None can help ME But most of all Isn’t it sad how I can’t run I can’t run Away from you It is sad

0

Nov 25, 2017

Nov 25, 2017 at 1:52 AM UTC

fille_de_beau_poete

It is

Isn’t it sad how I have to remind Myself I am worth it Isn’t it sad how I have to force Myself not to listen To your words Isn’t it sad how I have to smile When I am crying On the inside Isn’t is sad how None can help ME But most of all Isn’t it sad how I can’t run I can’t run Away from you It is sad

20

Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. Escribir, por ejemplo: 'La noche esta estrellada, y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.' El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta. Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. Yo la quise, y a veces ella tambien me quiso. En las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos. La bese tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito. Ella me quiso, a veces yo tambien la queria. Como no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos. Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido. Oir la noche inmensa, mas inmnesa sin ella. Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocio. Que importa que mi amor no pudiera guadarla. La noche esta estrellada y ella no esta conmigo. Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos. Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca. Mi corazon la busca, y ella no esta conmigo. La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos arboles. Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos. Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuanto la quise. Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oido. De otro. Sera de otro. Como antes de mis besos. Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos. Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero. Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido. Porque en noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos, mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. Aunque este sea el ultimo dolor que ella me causa, y estos sean los ultimos versos que yo le escribo.

0

fille_de_beau_poete

Nov 9, 2017

Nov 9, 2017 at 12:20 AM UTC

Pablo Neruda

Puedo Escribir

Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. Escribir, por ejemplo: 'La noche esta estrellada, y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.' El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta. Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. Yo la quise, y a veces ella tambien me quiso. En las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos. La bese tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito. Ella me quiso, a veces yo tambien la queria. Como no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos. Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido. Oir la noche inmensa, mas inmnesa sin ella. Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocio. Que importa que mi amor no pudiera guadarla. La noche esta estrellada y ella no esta conmigo. Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos. Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca. Mi corazon la busca, y ella no esta conmigo. La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos arboles. Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos. Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuanto la quise. Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oido. De otro. Sera de otro. Como antes de mis besos. Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos. Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero. Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido. Porque en noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos, mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. Aunque este sea el ultimo dolor que ella me causa, y estos sean los ultimos versos que yo le escribo.

32

Eyes as blue as pure water Fur as white as a snowflake Smile as pretty as spring Light as the wind But caring as a mom, Playful as a child Curious as one can be Unique like no other Calm as the sea, Mysterious as the new day No one knows her name Is a legend, just like her

0

Nov 8, 2017

Nov 8, 2017 at 7:49 PM UTC

fille_de_beau_poete

The Cat

Eyes as blue as pure water Fur as white as a snowflake Smile as pretty as spring Light as the wind But caring as a mom, Playful as a child Curious as one can be Unique like no other Calm as the sea, Mysterious as the new day No one knows her name Is a legend, just like her

12

Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf, So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day Nothing gold can stay.

0

fille_de_beau_poete

Nov 8, 2017

Nov 8, 2017 at 7:32 PM UTC

Robert Frost

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf, So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day Nothing gold can stay.

8

Dust everywhere Playing with your hair But with the moonlight Looks like stars in the night Like fairy dust Felling love and not disgust An elegant fresh air We sure share Giving life to this room Where magic blooms My hot coffee Blends with the smell Creating a powerful spell The birds sing along That magical song Created by the night Everything feels just right The only thing moving Is your tummy grooving Up and down as you breathe Sleeping next to me Just you and me all carefree The pages from the book To turnover a turn took Making me forget that Along with my cat I am in blue pyjamas With my curly fearless Hair, pure weirdness Dancing alone We are in our throne The moment we embrace In our little space

0

Nov 8, 2017

Nov 8, 2017 at 11:57 AM UTC

fille_de_beau_poete

Our Space

Dust everywhere Playing with your hair But with the moonlight Looks like stars in the night Like fairy dust Felling love and not disgust An elegant fresh air We sure share Giving life to this room Where magic blooms My hot coffee Blends with the smell Creating a powerful spell The birds sing along That magical song Created by the night Everything feels just right The only thing moving Is your tummy grooving Up and down as you breathe Sleeping next to me Just you and me all carefree The pages from the book To turnover a turn took Making me forget that Along with my cat I am in blue pyjamas With my curly fearless Hair, pure weirdness Dancing alone We are in our throne The moment we embrace In our little space

33

Something is missing says the white cozy room. She was tired says the empty coffee cup on a pile of old dusty books by the black backpack. She had worked all night creating a new thick book, says the lonenly large pen with almost no ink. She need sleep, says the un-made bed; and she was cold says the hut wood in the big chimney newly off. She had a rough week. says the aspirings lying next to the blue bottle of water on the night table. But she couldn't stop reading my tory, says the book open half way. She needed to relax says the cheesy music station. Tomorrow is the first day of winter vacation says s the school books and papers on the black table like snowflakes in winter. She needs to start thinking about herself says the black window with a view to the lonely and large swing int e small backyard. Also to believe in her dreams says the white pillow in the bed. She is beautiful as well as her name says small diary. But she doesn't think that way says the rectangular white mirror. She loves to laugh says the picture with a lot of smile people in it. She has been crying lately, says the blue box of Kleenex. She had the power to get ut back says the slight strips of light passing through the window. Something was missing the white room says.

0

Oct 30, 2017

Oct 30, 2017 at 11:11 AM UTC

fille_de_beau_poete

Lonely Winter Days

Something is missing says the white cozy room. She was tired says the empty coffee cup on a pile of old dusty books by the black backpack. She had worked all night creating a new thick book, says the lonenly large pen with almost no ink. She need sleep, says the un-made bed; and she was cold says the hut wood in the big chimney newly off. She had a rough week. says the aspirings lying next to the blue bottle of water on the night table. But she couldn't stop reading my tory, says the book open half way. She needed to relax says the cheesy music station. Tomorrow is the first day of winter vacation says s the school books and papers on the black table like snowflakes in winter. She needs to start thinking about herself says the black window with a view to the lonely and large swing int e small backyard. Also to believe in her dreams says the white pillow in the bed. She is beautiful as well as her name says small diary. But she doesn't think that way says the rectangular white mirror. She loves to laugh says the picture with a lot of smile people in it. She has been crying lately, says the blue box of Kleenex. She had the power to get ut back says the slight strips of light passing through the window. Something was missing the white room says.

33

We never see it but is always there and we know it is there, we can feel it Maybe because we are not prepare to open our eyes to this great world Where the moon is never the same and a new painting is always there waiting to be discover in a shy frame made of dreams and wishes of gold F To open our eyes we are never too old But yet we can be too small to realize That this world can be warm and cold

0

Oct 27, 2017

Oct 27, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC

fille_de_beau_poete

Magic

We never see it but is always there and we know it is there, we can feel it Maybe because we are not prepare to open our eyes to this great world Where the moon is never the same and a new painting is always there waiting to be discover in a shy frame made of dreams and wishes of gold F To open our eyes we are never too old But yet we can be too small to realize That this world can be warm and cold

11

In a perfect dream Creating a scene While the moon is awake Looking itself in a lake You are the queen At midnight Creating a scene Peaceful and light About the universe A shining land At the back of your hand

0

Oct 27, 2017

Oct 27, 2017 at 10:32 AM UTC

fille_de_beau_poete

In a Perfect Dream

In a perfect dream Creating a scene While the moon is awake Looking itself in a lake You are the queen At midnight Creating a scene Peaceful and light About the universe A shining land At the back of your hand

11