mona-5 - Hello Poetry

my head can be filled with red clouds with electric sparks in every corner of my skull with words floating about my conscience and sentences twisting around my brain it causes ripples in my psyche other times, my head is empty my skull is incapable of breaking, my brain unable to acknowledge pain and my cloudy mind condenses into rain that trickles down to my lungs I feel numb and unemotional I feel tired and unchallenged until the clouds form again and words wrap around my nerves a few words are pulled together as if by a magnetic, chemical force and i wonder: Is it better to feel everything or nothing at all?

0

Jul 14, 2015

Jul 14, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC

emptiness

my head can be filled with red clouds with electric sparks in every corner of my skull with words floating about my conscience and sentences twisting around my brain it causes ripples in my psyche other times, my head is empty my skull is incapable of breaking, my brain unable to acknowledge pain and my cloudy mind condenses into rain that trickles down to my lungs I feel numb and unemotional I feel tired and unchallenged until the clouds form again and words wrap around my nerves a few words are pulled together as if by a magnetic, chemical force and i wonder: Is it better to feel everything or nothing at all?

19

A beautifully ordered sequence of words. A combination of letters, stringed together into thoughts, translated into ideas and emotions, thrown onto paper. A delicate, fragile, yet unbreakable truth that enters your mind, and runs down to your bones. Books are characters and themes and mental experiences offered to you when you are displeased with Earth. When you would rather be in a world secured, confined to a selection of papers brought to you in one piece. A beautifully binded collection of thoughts carefully protected by a hard, colourful cover, with a simple label: A 'title' and 'author', so you know where you're going, and exactly who is taking you there. Flick through the pages, embark on your journey. Here: this front cover is your ticket.

0

Jan 27, 2015

Jan 27, 2015 at 8:29 AM UTC

a string of letters

A beautifully ordered sequence of words. A combination of letters, stringed together into thoughts, translated into ideas and emotions, thrown onto paper. A delicate, fragile, yet unbreakable truth that enters your mind, and runs down to your bones. Books are characters and themes and mental experiences offered to you when you are displeased with Earth. When you would rather be in a world secured, confined to a selection of papers brought to you in one piece. A beautifully binded collection of thoughts carefully protected by a hard, colourful cover, with a simple label: A 'title' and 'author', so you know where you're going, and exactly who is taking you there. Flick through the pages, embark on your journey. Here: this front cover is your ticket.

23

Your eyes, blue as the sky, soft as the clouds. A palette of shades layered like spiralled concentric circles. They overlap like waves softy crashing within the glittery sea. They draw me into the warm, comforting water. They're fun, and busy like summers and colours and timeless days where the present does not acknowledge the past or the future. Your eyes, fun as the sea, blue as the clear water, make me feel comfortable, safe and secure. As I soak in their freedom, I feel the rush of the sea spreading through my body, my heart, my soul, my feelings for you. Your eyes are as beautiful as the sea. But your eyes, deep as the ocean, dark and dangerous as its depth, they pick me apart and vandalise me. They scare me, hurt me, confuse me, and disgust me. I hate being picked apart by the whirlpools of your eyes. Stop them from spinning my emotions round, and round and round. They throw me into a wave of evil, plunging me to my shipwreck of a heart and watching me sink, all the way to my deepest of fears. Blink. The ocean washes over me and I float into a beautifully blue sea. The change of setting confuses me, because your eyes continue to control me still. I stare into your eyes, diving into the countless shades of blue, as I realise: The ocean is much more powerful than the sea.

0

Jan 17, 2015

Jan 17, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC

Your eyes

Your eyes, blue as the sky, soft as the clouds. A palette of shades layered like spiralled concentric circles. They overlap like waves softy crashing within the glittery sea. They draw me into the warm, comforting water. They're fun, and busy like summers and colours and timeless days where the present does not acknowledge the past or the future. Your eyes, fun as the sea, blue as the clear water, make me feel comfortable, safe and secure. As I soak in their freedom, I feel the rush of the sea spreading through my body, my heart, my soul, my feelings for you. Your eyes are as beautiful as the sea. But your eyes, deep as the ocean, dark and dangerous as its depth, they pick me apart and vandalise me. They scare me, hurt me, confuse me, and disgust me. I hate being picked apart by the whirlpools of your eyes. Stop them from spinning my emotions round, and round and round. They throw me into a wave of evil, plunging me to my shipwreck of a heart and watching me sink, all the way to my deepest of fears. Blink. The ocean washes over me and I float into a beautifully blue sea. The change of setting confuses me, because your eyes continue to control me still. I stare into your eyes, diving into the countless shades of blue, as I realise: The ocean is much more powerful than the sea.

73