maddie_elle1984 - Hello Poetry

A story of a boy Adolescent, flowering glass heart, surrounded by stone Green-eyed misery that stayed in the back of my mind When I didn't want him to He was like that; It only takes one kiss From his tender lips: The forest-eyed catastrophe engulfs you whole Those emerald daggers sink into your throat Trailing painfully down into the pit of your stomach Then slither back up into your lungs, At last, sinking your heart all the way down to the ground The Earth-eyed nightmare seeps into your skin Writhing its roots into your veins Living there forever Digging its branches into your bloodstream Taking him out would tear you apart.

0

Jun 13, 2020

Jun 13, 2020 at 10:34 PM UTC

Green-eyed monster

A story of a boy Adolescent, flowering glass heart, surrounded by stone Green-eyed misery that stayed in the back of my mind When I didn't want him to He was like that; It only takes one kiss From his tender lips: The forest-eyed catastrophe engulfs you whole Those emerald daggers sink into your throat Trailing painfully down into the pit of your stomach Then slither back up into your lungs, At last, sinking your heart all the way down to the ground The Earth-eyed nightmare seeps into your skin Writhing its roots into your veins Living there forever Digging its branches into your bloodstream Taking him out would tear you apart.

17

growing up is so inevitable to the point where you only notice it in subtle moments. like when you see the once perfectly glazed over scenarios that your parents once shielded you from, now graded and ugly, years of iron-curtained rust covering it whole, for the first time. like going to highschool and realizing, everything is not just a comfortable sunday afternoon, where we all love to learn and enjoy your individual merits; but rather a concealed house fire that a stranger started at your bedroom window, but calls your name from your front door, saying he’ll save you. when i was young i wanted to be a singer- to sing about my childish fantasies- where the world was all colors, not just monochromatic, and the art of language was interchangeable beyond just its origin, but within its people. in school we learn about the aspects of originality. how conformity is better in some circumstances and how nonconformity could have the same premise, if done the way we were taught. take this test, take that. effort becomes meaningless when there’s no rhyme to your reason. we spew out information from the day we can retain it, then on to the day we decide to spew it on to our children. regurgitating the ethical analytics of our 9-5 jobs or hobbies until we can go home, indulge our brains on our skin tight routines, just so that we can do it all again in the morning. this is not the direction that we were supposed to go in... when the homo-sapiens started off as hunters and gathers they realized they needed something easier. they meant so that they’d have more time to live the lives they longed to. they didn’t mean to make their lives so comfortable into which they cannot have one, as we are not ourselves these days without a phone in hand. we only take things in that we want to hear. we fill up the entirety of our minds with pointless ideologies uncomical celebrities mixed with discombobulated news stories the phone between our fingers is so focused in on that we can’t even achieve a longer attention span than a goldfish. we’ve cast a metal, deceiving hero’s cape over our backs, and a sneering mask over our eyes. the shoes we wear, coated in the the soot we didn’t see on our path, and the gloves on our hands, in the words of Langston Hughes, are giving absolutely no protection against the bearing frost over our fields of opportunities. how old we are, we could not say. the days go by so fast when we know not the aspects of our self preservation.

0

May 15, 2019

May 15, 2019 at 9:49 AM UTC

Full Circle

growing up is so inevitable to the point where you only notice it in subtle moments. like when you see the once perfectly glazed over scenarios that your parents once shielded you from, now graded and ugly, years of iron-curtained rust covering it whole, for the first time. like going to highschool and realizing, everything is not just a comfortable sunday afternoon, where we all love to learn and enjoy your individual merits; but rather a concealed house fire that a stranger started at your bedroom window, but calls your name from your front door, saying he’ll save you. when i was young i wanted to be a singer- to sing about my childish fantasies- where the world was all colors, not just monochromatic, and the art of language was interchangeable beyond just its origin, but within its people. in school we learn about the aspects of originality. how conformity is better in some circumstances and how nonconformity could have the same premise, if done the way we were taught. take this test, take that. effort becomes meaningless when there’s no rhyme to your reason. we spew out information from the day we can retain it, then on to the day we decide to spew it on to our children. regurgitating the ethical analytics of our 9-5 jobs or hobbies until we can go home, indulge our brains on our skin tight routines, just so that we can do it all again in the morning. this is not the direction that we were supposed to go in... when the homo-sapiens started off as hunters and gathers they realized they needed something easier. they meant so that they’d have more time to live the lives they longed to. they didn’t mean to make their lives so comfortable into which they cannot have one, as we are not ourselves these days without a phone in hand. we only take things in that we want to hear. we fill up the entirety of our minds with pointless ideologies uncomical celebrities mixed with discombobulated news stories the phone between our fingers is so focused in on that we can’t even achieve a longer attention span than a goldfish. we’ve cast a metal, deceiving hero’s cape over our backs, and a sneering mask over our eyes. the shoes we wear, coated in the the soot we didn’t see on our path, and the gloves on our hands, in the words of Langston Hughes, are giving absolutely no protection against the bearing frost over our fields of opportunities. how old we are, we could not say. the days go by so fast when we know not the aspects of our self preservation.

46

You know it's time to address your mental health, When a smile is reassuring, When "hello" is a digression, And every stare is an evaluation. You know it's time to confront your inner thoughts, When you turn off the lights, and you give up. When you dream of the possible, rather than what you actually want, And the memories that made you nostalgic, are now acidic in your heart. White turns to black; Sick turns to indisposed, As the imposes turn to diagnoses. I feel dizzy, my head is spinning- In reality, I'm healthier than when I was winning. It's just an imbalance, a lapse in my deception- Little do I know, I've been blind for years. Only when I opened my eyes, did I see- The potential in my complexion.

0

Feb 15, 2019

Feb 15, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC

Imbalanced

You know it's time to address your mental health, When a smile is reassuring, When "hello" is a digression, And every stare is an evaluation. You know it's time to confront your inner thoughts, When you turn off the lights, and you give up. When you dream of the possible, rather than what you actually want, And the memories that made you nostalgic, are now acidic in your heart. White turns to black; Sick turns to indisposed, As the imposes turn to diagnoses. I feel dizzy, my head is spinning- In reality, I'm healthier than when I was winning. It's just an imbalance, a lapse in my deception- Little do I know, I've been blind for years. Only when I opened my eyes, did I see- The potential in my complexion.

18

I just can't help but wonder If by you saying "I love you" Is just another way of saying "I love the feeling of you". That your fantasy of us Was just an illogical fallacy of lust Because in truth, I fear you do not think with your heart- In betrayal, I will always trust. I wish we were back to those beautiful days; The days where we would pick strawberries, On the coats of Norway- Swing carelessly, on the seasides of Whales. Now, we just pick fights on the depths of our insecurities, Say careless, arrogant things out of spite- I miss when "I love you", wasn't an apology. Maybe you can love me for real this time, and not like the times we've shared. I hope that one day "I love you" will mean no more than just a few words to show mediocre affection- And I won't need it as my life line, Or my everlasting addiction for approval from you. Maybe one day, we won't even have to say "I love you", Because on that day, we wouldn't have to wonder What the answer would be. For once, I deserve that.

0

Nov 11, 2018

Nov 11, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC

"I love you" (?!...,;:+=)

I just can't help but wonder If by you saying "I love you" Is just another way of saying "I love the feeling of you". That your fantasy of us Was just an illogical fallacy of lust Because in truth, I fear you do not think with your heart- In betrayal, I will always trust. I wish we were back to those beautiful days; The days where we would pick strawberries, On the coats of Norway- Swing carelessly, on the seasides of Whales. Now, we just pick fights on the depths of our insecurities, Say careless, arrogant things out of spite- I miss when "I love you", wasn't an apology. Maybe you can love me for real this time, and not like the times we've shared. I hope that one day "I love you" will mean no more than just a few words to show mediocre affection- And I won't need it as my life line, Or my everlasting addiction for approval from you. Maybe one day, we won't even have to say "I love you", Because on that day, we wouldn't have to wonder What the answer would be. For once, I deserve that.

25

A promise Is when someone vows something to you In order to maintain a temporary trust; A strong Abundant trust. A promise Is when we let that abundance of trust Fill the whole in our hearts where we need reassurance- And like the white whales in the Red Sea, We are resiliently hooked. A promise Is when we are given a hope, Even when we know It's sometimes false. People make promises they can't keep; In our hearts, we all know this to be true. Sometimes false hope is the heart-pumping blood we all need. Red in all its glory; It's our life support. Sometimes a promise cannot be fulfilled, but only vowed- Our involuntary recipients, Harrowing over our grotesque stabs at being their very veins. Like the vows of a marriage, We say them to prove we can provide some sort of air for them; Though as if we live underwater. We give people their air, though it is only a bubble- Just to put in their lovely heads that one day, Maybe they'll get a whole breath.

0

Sep 27, 2018

Sep 27, 2018 at 8:59 PM UTC

Why We Break Promises:

A promise Is when someone vows something to you In order to maintain a temporary trust; A strong Abundant trust. A promise Is when we let that abundance of trust Fill the whole in our hearts where we need reassurance- And like the white whales in the Red Sea, We are resiliently hooked. A promise Is when we are given a hope, Even when we know It's sometimes false. People make promises they can't keep; In our hearts, we all know this to be true. Sometimes false hope is the heart-pumping blood we all need. Red in all its glory; It's our life support. Sometimes a promise cannot be fulfilled, but only vowed- Our involuntary recipients, Harrowing over our grotesque stabs at being their very veins. Like the vows of a marriage, We say them to prove we can provide some sort of air for them; Though as if we live underwater. We give people their air, though it is only a bubble- Just to put in their lovely heads that one day, Maybe they'll get a whole breath.

26

We are all so vain We cannot even stitch our own cloth, Or eat any food that is further than our own lands- Everything we do has to be in line with everyone else's... Naked, pail bodies. As giant astroids plummet towards us- The skies spiraling with streaks of purple and red; Colors we've never seen before. We worry more about running away Than looking up at the sky. We cry for our soon demise But we never once think of it as a new beginning. We are so absent-minded these days.

0

Jul 26, 2018

Jul 26, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC

*.*.*Astronomical*.*.*

We are all so vain We cannot even stitch our own cloth, Or eat any food that is further than our own lands- Everything we do has to be in line with everyone else's... Naked, pail bodies. As giant astroids plummet towards us- The skies spiraling with streaks of purple and red; Colors we've never seen before. We worry more about running away Than looking up at the sky. We cry for our soon demise But we never once think of it as a new beginning. We are so absent-minded these days.

13

Climbed down from the pedestal, Because I realized nobody wants to be up here- Worked so hard for it.... But then again nobody knows what they sign up for. My white gown is stained- How could anyone do such a thing? I guess nobody remembers the values of accusation Because nobody was charged... Sitting on the ground- Warm like the memories I instill in this town; I'll eat the fruits to remember what it all tasted like. A taste of my own medicine. It's kind of ironic how one thing can be taken for another Maybe the pedestal after all was a pit of thorns.. Luckily I didn't stay long enough to get cut.. At the same time, the ground here is giving me a bruise! I'll have to tell someone that one day.

0

Jun 15, 2018

Jun 15, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC

Afterthoughts of the Queen Herself

Climbed down from the pedestal, Because I realized nobody wants to be up here- Worked so hard for it.... But then again nobody knows what they sign up for. My white gown is stained- How could anyone do such a thing? I guess nobody remembers the values of accusation Because nobody was charged... Sitting on the ground- Warm like the memories I instill in this town; I'll eat the fruits to remember what it all tasted like. A taste of my own medicine. It's kind of ironic how one thing can be taken for another Maybe the pedestal after all was a pit of thorns.. Luckily I didn't stay long enough to get cut.. At the same time, the ground here is giving me a bruise! I'll have to tell someone that one day.

17

Disposable likes Dispensable loves I wish I could throw it all away. Somebody tell all these recyclable guys To step down from their endless pride and just be sustainable- but reusable for later Reducible heartbreaks Reprized 'I love you's' I wish there was a safe way to get rid of our minds. Without polluting everything around our youth Because none of us want our children knowing That one day they might be susceptible to that typa thing... The world would be such a better place if we didn't waste Maybe if we all knew Sometimes we need to dispose of things the right way; Instead of putting in on top of another pile- It would be.

0

Jun 14, 2018

Jun 14, 2018 at 10:45 PM UTC

E A R T H W A Y S

Disposable likes Dispensable loves I wish I could throw it all away. Somebody tell all these recyclable guys To step down from their endless pride and just be sustainable- but reusable for later Reducible heartbreaks Reprized 'I love you's' I wish there was a safe way to get rid of our minds. Without polluting everything around our youth Because none of us want our children knowing That one day they might be susceptible to that typa thing... The world would be such a better place if we didn't waste Maybe if we all knew Sometimes we need to dispose of things the right way; Instead of putting in on top of another pile- It would be.

17

I've been swimming all my life. Treading; Floating. Inside the infinity of all infinity pools. Yet I never learned how to swim- Until I learned I could drown.

0

May 13, 2018

May 13, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC

Treading Water

I've been swimming all my life. Treading; Floating. Inside the infinity of all infinity pools. Yet I never learned how to swim- Until I learned I could drown.

6

When I'm writing a poem I feel at an all time high. Beautiful words On the rim of my crystal glass I'm drunk When I finish writing the best line the world has ever seen I look over the mountains of emotion Sad times On the tip of a golden spoon I'm intoxicated Looking over my works at night Reflecting Reliving the memories that cloud each sentance My life On the tip of everyone's finger I'm finally alive.

0

Mar 27, 2018

Mar 27, 2018 at 10:36 AM UTC

High

When I'm writing a poem I feel at an all time high. Beautiful words On the rim of my crystal glass I'm drunk When I finish writing the best line the world has ever seen I look over the mountains of emotion Sad times On the tip of a golden spoon I'm intoxicated Looking over my works at night Reflecting Reliving the memories that cloud each sentance My life On the tip of everyone's finger I'm finally alive.

16