words_by_ls - Hello Poetry

'do you hear that?' i whispered signalling to the birds beginning their slow rise with the morning sun the 4am glow on a tuesday morning in mid-june i see the outline of your figure as you bring yourself closer and press yourself against me 'you're the one who has to go to work' she teases as she kisses me again she sends a shiver down my spine and chills though my bones in the stuffy room filled with the heat of our breath and the warmth of the summer air another hour passes and we are still awake we sang with the birds and our hands danced until the light became brighter and trickled ever stronger into the room we drift off into a soft sleep to the sound of the waking birds still singing their morning songs sweetly she rests on my chest unmoved by the noise again we awake at 7am i slip away from the bed and ready myself for the day hiding in the corner of the room quietly so i don't disturb but i catch her subtle sleepy glances in the mirror the bright sun now beating through the gaps in the curtains she is illuminated in all her glory more radiant and more beautiful than the warm summers day that awaits beyond our four walls.

0

Jun 18, 2019

Jun 18, 2019 at 10:58 AM UTC

solstice

'do you hear that?' i whispered signalling to the birds beginning their slow rise with the morning sun the 4am glow on a tuesday morning in mid-june i see the outline of your figure as you bring yourself closer and press yourself against me 'you're the one who has to go to work' she teases as she kisses me again she sends a shiver down my spine and chills though my bones in the stuffy room filled with the heat of our breath and the warmth of the summer air another hour passes and we are still awake we sang with the birds and our hands danced until the light became brighter and trickled ever stronger into the room we drift off into a soft sleep to the sound of the waking birds still singing their morning songs sweetly she rests on my chest unmoved by the noise again we awake at 7am i slip away from the bed and ready myself for the day hiding in the corner of the room quietly so i don't disturb but i catch her subtle sleepy glances in the mirror the bright sun now beating through the gaps in the curtains she is illuminated in all her glory more radiant and more beautiful than the warm summers day that awaits beyond our four walls.

26

no sooner had we bloomed like the cherry blossoms on the trees we wilted and i fell because like those cherry blossoms we were beautiful for a while not destined to last longer than a week in March with a whispering gust you blew away while heavy with the weight of aprils rain i crashed to the ground

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Apr 2, 2019

Apr 2, 2019 at 2:10 PM UTC

Cherry Blossom

no sooner had we bloomed like the cherry blossoms on the trees we wilted and i fell because like those cherry blossoms we were beautiful for a while not destined to last longer than a week in March with a whispering gust you blew away while heavy with the weight of aprils rain i crashed to the ground

8

Like the pages of the book we ruined that day in the rain When we walked through the dark ***** streets in secret Without a care for the downpour that endured We are warped and the ink is smeared Overcome with blackness and nothingness Distorting and destroying the beauty that once lay there. Our words are gone, just the memory of what lay there before We were made of the weakest material Paper wasn't made to last forever Stone would have weathered the storm But stone was too heavy for you to carry and not as poetic as paper You always loved poetry, so how could you let the book, our poetry die like this? You ignored the clouds before us and let it drown me While you stood up on my shoulders to keep your head above the flood Careless, you left our pages cockled after I carried us Damaged beyond repair because of our - your ignorance to what encompassed us Beauty in words couldn't protect us from the onslaught That fate had set out for us The perfect pathetic fallacy for the fairytale ending we never had.

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Mar 23, 2019

Mar 23, 2019 at 7:03 AM UTC

Ruined Book

Like the pages of the book we ruined that day in the rain When we walked through the dark ***** streets in secret Without a care for the downpour that endured We are warped and the ink is smeared Overcome with blackness and nothingness Distorting and destroying the beauty that once lay there. Our words are gone, just the memory of what lay there before We were made of the weakest material Paper wasn't made to last forever Stone would have weathered the storm But stone was too heavy for you to carry and not as poetic as paper You always loved poetry, so how could you let the book, our poetry die like this? You ignored the clouds before us and let it drown me While you stood up on my shoulders to keep your head above the flood Careless, you left our pages cockled after I carried us Damaged beyond repair because of our - your ignorance to what encompassed us Beauty in words couldn't protect us from the onslaught That fate had set out for us The perfect pathetic fallacy for the fairytale ending we never had.

19

The soil where I am supposed to grow Can be found deep under concrete Under layers of dirt and steel Sheltered from the sun under skylines of glass The fertile earth lays not at the surface But saturated far below That is where I will be planted When I can find the strength to dig so deep And I will root myself in place And burrow back up through the earth Breaking through cracks in the sidewalk A tiny sprout of life that will flourish Into a seemingly beautiful accident And become too striking and too mighty To destroy The natural phenomenon among skyscrapers

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Jan 23, 2019

Jan 23, 2019 at 7:08 AM UTC

The City

The soil where I am supposed to grow Can be found deep under concrete Under layers of dirt and steel Sheltered from the sun under skylines of glass The fertile earth lays not at the surface But saturated far below That is where I will be planted When I can find the strength to dig so deep And I will root myself in place And burrow back up through the earth Breaking through cracks in the sidewalk A tiny sprout of life that will flourish Into a seemingly beautiful accident And become too striking and too mighty To destroy The natural phenomenon among skyscrapers

16

I collect sunlight and warmth from the summer to keep me burning Enough to keep me alive long enough to watch the autumn leaves form crisp orange tunnels Until I begin to simmer and fade in the winter when the snow falls on bare branches Before the cherry blossoms bloom again and the flickering glow on my skin returns But nothing can ignite the furnace in my chest like when I see you. The flames roar and flare scolding anyone that comes too close. I collect the heat from the summer sun, but if you were here beside me, all my life, you could keep me burning. Brighter than any sun. A force of nature unmatched. Instead you have left me shrouded in my own personal darkness and you leave me to smoulder dimly all year round. Left to hold the images of the summer to keep me ablaze. But winter came early and I don't know if I have enough light within me to keep myself alight.

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Oct 11, 2018

Oct 11, 2018 at 4:17 PM UTC

Furnace

I collect sunlight and warmth from the summer to keep me burning Enough to keep me alive long enough to watch the autumn leaves form crisp orange tunnels Until I begin to simmer and fade in the winter when the snow falls on bare branches Before the cherry blossoms bloom again and the flickering glow on my skin returns But nothing can ignite the furnace in my chest like when I see you. The flames roar and flare scolding anyone that comes too close. I collect the heat from the summer sun, but if you were here beside me, all my life, you could keep me burning. Brighter than any sun. A force of nature unmatched. Instead you have left me shrouded in my own personal darkness and you leave me to smoulder dimly all year round. Left to hold the images of the summer to keep me ablaze. But winter came early and I don't know if I have enough light within me to keep myself alight.

6

I rest my head in the dusky hours early in the hope I'll awaken refreshed instead in the lonely hours at 2am, 3am and 4am my body rests while my mind races with complex thought caught somewhere between sadness and complacency the past present and future merging into one clashing and colliding confusing working hard into the night sending my heart to palpitations. I close my eyes and the words I see written on my ceiling are engrained on the insides of my eyelids crawling with the spiders I overthink instead of sleep I dream in my conscious state of what could've been what is and what might be restless in a state of exhaustion lucid in a state of total consciousness hopeless to stop the relentless tide of my imagination from rotting my brain inside and out ruining any faith I have in a night of sleep or a day of clarity and competence. The thoughts leave when I rise again at 7am as planned with the chiming of the bells on the nightstand my head snaps into reality again focus returns in the form of routine get up, go move on, mend. Distracted and oblivious my lack of sleep haunts me until I repeat this dull cycle again tonight I live my nightmares in the lonely hours at 2am, 3am and 4am.

0

Aug 22, 2018

Aug 22, 2018 at 9:08 AM UTC

Lucid

I rest my head in the dusky hours early in the hope I'll awaken refreshed instead in the lonely hours at 2am, 3am and 4am my body rests while my mind races with complex thought caught somewhere between sadness and complacency the past present and future merging into one clashing and colliding confusing working hard into the night sending my heart to palpitations. I close my eyes and the words I see written on my ceiling are engrained on the insides of my eyelids crawling with the spiders I overthink instead of sleep I dream in my conscious state of what could've been what is and what might be restless in a state of exhaustion lucid in a state of total consciousness hopeless to stop the relentless tide of my imagination from rotting my brain inside and out ruining any faith I have in a night of sleep or a day of clarity and competence. The thoughts leave when I rise again at 7am as planned with the chiming of the bells on the nightstand my head snaps into reality again focus returns in the form of routine get up, go move on, mend. Distracted and oblivious my lack of sleep haunts me until I repeat this dull cycle again tonight I live my nightmares in the lonely hours at 2am, 3am and 4am.

38

I no longer keep a journal But these words I write on paper Are my deepest thoughts The ones I keep inside. I would rather romanticise them In poetry Written over time With rhyme, Form, And broken Lines.

0

Aug 20, 2018

Aug 20, 2018 at 6:20 PM UTC

The Journal I Don't Write Anymore

I no longer keep a journal But these words I write on paper Are my deepest thoughts The ones I keep inside. I would rather romanticise them In poetry Written over time With rhyme, Form, And broken Lines.

11

I still remember The shade of blue of the sky The day that we met I still remember The taste of beer on your lips The first time we kissed I still remember The deep pounding of my heart The moment you left

0

Aug 15, 2018

Aug 15, 2018 at 2:26 PM UTC

Three Haikus About The Day We Met

I still remember The shade of blue of the sky The day that we met I still remember The taste of beer on your lips The first time we kissed I still remember The deep pounding of my heart The moment you left

9

They say never to underestimate the rage of a woman but what we should not underestimate is the touch of a woman for that is what will break you sending you insane with desire. Spinning through all seven deadly sins. From gluttony through to lust pride through to envy anger through to greed leaving you at sloth avoiding all else that matters craving only; the touch of a woman.

0

Aug 11, 2018

Aug 11, 2018 at 7:42 AM UTC

Deadly

They say never to underestimate the rage of a woman but what we should not underestimate is the touch of a woman for that is what will break you sending you insane with desire. Spinning through all seven deadly sins. From gluttony through to lust pride through to envy anger through to greed leaving you at sloth avoiding all else that matters craving only; the touch of a woman.

15

She doesn't like odd numbers so I kiss her head in twos, her cheeks in fours, and her lips in sixes, eights, and tens.

0

Aug 9, 2018

Aug 9, 2018 at 6:43 AM UTC

Evens

She doesn't like odd numbers so I kiss her head in twos, her cheeks in fours, and her lips in sixes, eights, and tens.

9