p-s-bravo - Hello Poetry

If there ever was man who could burn a bridge... ...I’d set fire to the village. I’d kidnap the mayor, hold him for ransom and cut off his head after the note was paid. I’d pour salt on the fields, spill blood in the river, and drip poison in the wells. I’d **** your first born. If there ever was a man who could burn a bridge, I’m your man… …and there aren't many roads left that lead to my village.

0

Aug 18, 2013

Aug 18, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC

p-s-bravo

A prelude to catastrophe

If there ever was man who could burn a bridge... ...I’d set fire to the village. I’d kidnap the mayor, hold him for ransom and cut off his head after the note was paid. I’d pour salt on the fields, spill blood in the river, and drip poison in the wells. I’d **** your first born. If there ever was a man who could burn a bridge, I’m your man… …and there aren't many roads left that lead to my village.

8

As if the fire wasn't enough. They decide to spit on the ashes. I still remember the smoke though And how it stung my eyes As tears poured out like waterfall. I'll never forget what was once there. Such a loss.

0

Nov 24, 2012

Nov 24, 2012 at 2:35 AM UTC

p-s-bravo

burnt

As if the fire wasn't enough. They decide to spit on the ashes. I still remember the smoke though And how it stung my eyes As tears poured out like waterfall. I'll never forget what was once there. Such a loss.

7

there isn't anything to be said Nothing to be seen there isn't an interesting thing about it in fact no one really cares but that's just the fact some exploding stars go off in the night sky but no one ever notices that my friend is like so many unsung songs and unread stories. the silent passing of disaster and the bandless parade.

0

Aug 24, 2012

Aug 24, 2012 at 2:05 PM UTC

p-s-bravo

Untitled

there isn't anything to be said Nothing to be seen there isn't an interesting thing about it in fact no one really cares but that's just the fact some exploding stars go off in the night sky but no one ever notices that my friend is like so many unsung songs and unread stories. the silent passing of disaster and the bandless parade.

8

The smell of fresh earth The sun shining through cracks The smoothness of a womans skin The sound of birds chirping at the break of dawn The taste of strawberries The memories of romantic nights never easily forgotten The occasional smile on a strangers faces when you say hello Staring at the sun and the green and pink stains it leaves when you close your eyes The attention from another woman, especially one that's got your heart. Dew left on the leaves of trees. Holding someones hand Watching a kid get exactly what they want Running Writing a song with other people A good book, preferably a classic Science and how it brighten ups the world with possibility and impossibility. Poetry A sad love song and a sad lonely instrument in an array of other instruments Sleep Exercise Dancing like an idiot. Dancing with someone you love though I don't think I've ever done this *** with someone you love it's really quite different Teaching someone something new An intelligent conversation not just talking at someone or being talked at there is a difference Being understood Being in love Hiking Biking Nature walks Being needed Living These are all things I love And there are more But this was all I needed to remind myself that it's all worth it this morning.

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Apr 23, 2012

Apr 23, 2012 at 9:18 AM UTC

p-s-bravo

Things I love

The smell of fresh earth The sun shining through cracks The smoothness of a womans skin The sound of birds chirping at the break of dawn The taste of strawberries The memories of romantic nights never easily forgotten The occasional smile on a strangers faces when you say hello Staring at the sun and the green and pink stains it leaves when you close your eyes The attention from another woman, especially one that's got your heart. Dew left on the leaves of trees. Holding someones hand Watching a kid get exactly what they want Running Writing a song with other people A good book, preferably a classic Science and how it brighten ups the world with possibility and impossibility. Poetry A sad love song and a sad lonely instrument in an array of other instruments Sleep Exercise Dancing like an idiot. Dancing with someone you love though I don't think I've ever done this *** with someone you love it's really quite different Teaching someone something new An intelligent conversation not just talking at someone or being talked at there is a difference Being understood Being in love Hiking Biking Nature walks Being needed Living These are all things I love And there are more But this was all I needed to remind myself that it's all worth it this morning.

42

let it go it's hard life isn't a relationship child it's not about that it's about you you are beautiful and you will find love again should you not look for it but let it come love isn't something you can demand out of someone it is given it is like waiting for rain it doesn't come when you want it it comes when it comes and it goes when it goes you will be okay you've gone through so much worse so so much worse i know because I know you because i am like you too i've cried over losing someone i loved and i've grown from it i've come through, scared, bruised, and sore but I've come through and i've been better for it. you will too

0

Mar 11, 2012

Mar 11, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC

p-s-bravo

Something You Should Know

let it go it's hard life isn't a relationship child it's not about that it's about you you are beautiful and you will find love again should you not look for it but let it come love isn't something you can demand out of someone it is given it is like waiting for rain it doesn't come when you want it it comes when it comes and it goes when it goes you will be okay you've gone through so much worse so so much worse i know because I know you because i am like you too i've cried over losing someone i loved and i've grown from it i've come through, scared, bruised, and sore but I've come through and i've been better for it. you will too

23

Heaven was not found. You've showed me it was here, now, in life and in love. But yet, in your arms bliss is over abundance. A world full of love. You are beautiful. The stuff of songs and poems. The birds sing for you. I am a nothing, but with you I become more. I am your lover. My heart, it is yours to keep and have forever. This I promise you. {} Yet, our love is new. The waters must be test. Heavy are our hearts. Could they sink like rocks? Perhaps, our love is buoyant; I do believe so There are not enough hours in the day to show you the love I have. No eternity could ever be enough to give you all my love My heart, it falls deep, into the stomach it slips, only to jump up. My heart, it leaps forth Into your hands; it is yours, there for whenever. That's the way it is. My love will always be yours Never could that change. {} And the sun may boom and asunder into nothing, my love will still burn. And the cities fall and crumble into debris, my love will live on. And the seas may dry into the dust and the dead earth, my love will still thrive And the stars shine not taking with them the night skies, my love will still glow You are the burning ember that sets ablaze the flames within my heart.

0

Feb 14, 2012

Feb 14, 2012 at 10:20 AM UTC

p-s-bravo

Haikus 5, 7, and 5 (for her)

Heaven was not found. You've showed me it was here, now, in life and in love. But yet, in your arms bliss is over abundance. A world full of love. You are beautiful. The stuff of songs and poems. The birds sing for you. I am a nothing, but with you I become more. I am your lover. My heart, it is yours to keep and have forever. This I promise you. {} Yet, our love is new. The waters must be test. Heavy are our hearts. Could they sink like rocks? Perhaps, our love is buoyant; I do believe so There are not enough hours in the day to show you the love I have. No eternity could ever be enough to give you all my love My heart, it falls deep, into the stomach it slips, only to jump up. My heart, it leaps forth Into your hands; it is yours, there for whenever. That's the way it is. My love will always be yours Never could that change. {} And the sun may boom and asunder into nothing, my love will still burn. And the cities fall and crumble into debris, my love will live on. And the seas may dry into the dust and the dead earth, my love will still thrive And the stars shine not taking with them the night skies, my love will still glow You are the burning ember that sets ablaze the flames within my heart.

53

Our hearts are heavy with the weight of the world. They sink deeper and deeper into a sea of troubles and worries. There is no land of ours we can call home anymore. We are restless wonders on an everlasting voyage to nowhere. We once were like you, forgetful But we remember And that is how we got so lost.

0

Feb 2, 2012

Feb 2, 2012 at 12:07 PM UTC

p-s-bravo

Heavy

Our hearts are heavy with the weight of the world. They sink deeper and deeper into a sea of troubles and worries. There is no land of ours we can call home anymore. We are restless wonders on an everlasting voyage to nowhere. We once were like you, forgetful But we remember And that is how we got so lost.

7

And then one day, I looked up and said, I wanna be like them. Like those big white pillow puffs from mass bodies of water that roll across the sky like kids up top hills. Carefree. Do those clouds care that their short lives will be dragged down by pollution and dirt into sewage drains full of **** and **** Or water reservoirs reserved for thirsty plants and cottoned mouths; some desperate for their demise, while others never even noticing? Or Do the thunders not resemble their screams and cries? Is lightening not a contest between the panicked nimbus and stubborn mountain tops or city skyscrapers? Is a clouds gray not it's sorrow? Do sun-dogs not smile back? What can be said about a cloud suspended over grassy plains after a summer storm? As soft and still as a sleeping baby that wore itself out in a late night tantrum. Perhaps my musings are misguided. Are the lives of clouds really that much different? Perhaps not.

0

Jan 21, 2012

Jan 21, 2012 at 5:08 PM UTC

p-s-bravo

Cloud Envy

And then one day, I looked up and said, I wanna be like them. Like those big white pillow puffs from mass bodies of water that roll across the sky like kids up top hills. Carefree. Do those clouds care that their short lives will be dragged down by pollution and dirt into sewage drains full of **** and **** Or water reservoirs reserved for thirsty plants and cottoned mouths; some desperate for their demise, while others never even noticing? Or Do the thunders not resemble their screams and cries? Is lightening not a contest between the panicked nimbus and stubborn mountain tops or city skyscrapers? Is a clouds gray not it's sorrow? Do sun-dogs not smile back? What can be said about a cloud suspended over grassy plains after a summer storm? As soft and still as a sleeping baby that wore itself out in a late night tantrum. Perhaps my musings are misguided. Are the lives of clouds really that much different? Perhaps not.

15

He turns his head and watches the Sunset in the west. The last of the days light broken up into rays and beams by clouds and mountains. The dust has settled. The moon has risen. And the stars glisten. A days end embezzled by men and women who take the nights breath away for their own pleasures. How they forsake each other without understanding that we really do love one another. For love is not bound by words and action but by the silent meddling of the heart where it's only interference is the reality that we are forced to succumb to; the real world. The world of men and women stealing days for the sake ideas. Burning the nights up with incandescent glows and unnatural woes. A world of wants and desires never met but always sought after. How we detest ourselves. How we loath each other; forgetting that it's not so bad. It's really not so bad. We are all lost children yearning for affection. Mothers praying for their sons and daughters. Soldiers in the heat of battle. Ships lost at sea. The hapless smiles on orphaned boys and girls in a big empty vast universe. But the Sun still rises to the east, and his head will turn again to greet broken Sunbeams and scatted light. The birds will chirp. The cars will start. And we'll steal the day again. All together now. All alone.

0

Dec 29, 2011

Dec 29, 2011 at 3:19 PM UTC

p-s-bravo

Sun Set on His Cloudy Face

He turns his head and watches the Sunset in the west. The last of the days light broken up into rays and beams by clouds and mountains. The dust has settled. The moon has risen. And the stars glisten. A days end embezzled by men and women who take the nights breath away for their own pleasures. How they forsake each other without understanding that we really do love one another. For love is not bound by words and action but by the silent meddling of the heart where it's only interference is the reality that we are forced to succumb to; the real world. The world of men and women stealing days for the sake ideas. Burning the nights up with incandescent glows and unnatural woes. A world of wants and desires never met but always sought after. How we detest ourselves. How we loath each other; forgetting that it's not so bad. It's really not so bad. We are all lost children yearning for affection. Mothers praying for their sons and daughters. Soldiers in the heat of battle. Ships lost at sea. The hapless smiles on orphaned boys and girls in a big empty vast universe. But the Sun still rises to the east, and his head will turn again to greet broken Sunbeams and scatted light. The birds will chirp. The cars will start. And we'll steal the day again. All together now. All alone.

32

Misery knows a drunk with hangover It knows a poor soul sick with flu and no one to care for them It knows the lost dog to house broken to fend for itself Misery is a friend of mine and a good friend indeed It picks at me when I need picking It ***** the air out of my lungs when I think I'm out of breath Here misery is king and it's queen is solace which, like in all great love stories, misery will always seek. For all great loves are like high-speed car chases With the peddle punching through the floor boards. And misery too is a kind of love A bad love, but a love nonetheless, Searching for it's queen.

0

Dec 29, 2011

Dec 29, 2011 at 2:56 PM UTC

p-s-bravo

Of Beer-Soaked Mourning Upon Starry Eyes

Misery knows a drunk with hangover It knows a poor soul sick with flu and no one to care for them It knows the lost dog to house broken to fend for itself Misery is a friend of mine and a good friend indeed It picks at me when I need picking It ***** the air out of my lungs when I think I'm out of breath Here misery is king and it's queen is solace which, like in all great love stories, misery will always seek. For all great loves are like high-speed car chases With the peddle punching through the floor boards. And misery too is a kind of love A bad love, but a love nonetheless, Searching for it's queen.

12