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Apr 2019 · 173
Abrupt
Cynthia Apr 2019
Tick Tick Tick
Laughter
Living
Peace

Tick Tick Tick
Gazing
Holding
"Breathe"

Tick Tick Tick
"Nothing's wrong"
"It's alright"
"Just a little breeze"

Tick Tick...
"Relax, it's oka-"

Pause.

Silence.

Okay?
Isn't that how it seems?
The bombings. in Sri Lanka. Easter was supposed to be happy
Apr 2019 · 238
Piano
Cynthia Apr 2019
Close your ears,
And in the midst of the woods,
You'll hear a soul,
As he plays his piano.

Surrounded by the mist,
By fireflies and the wind,
You'll hear a soul,
As he played his piano.

He'll read the keys,
Precisely as it said on the sheets,
Never missed a beat,
As he read from the seams,

But he felt empty,
As the notes were too,
So he closed his eyes,
And played some songs he never knew,

In the forest, his songs of gold,
went heard by many miles,
And soon full soon, they rushed to him,
The creatures of the night.


He sang of joy,
The feeling one would get,
When they missed a beat,
Uncaring of the whispers that they'll get,

He feels his heart breathing,
From all the eyes that he gets,
The creatures of the night,
They gathered round to see him vent.

But he wont care about them,
As they don't know about him,
So he sings his song of freedom,
And the binding of it,


He sings about the coldness of the Hearth,
He sings about the dead and their mirth,


He sings about the paradox,
Of happiness in love,
He sings about the promises,
When push comes to shove,

From twilight to dawn,
To the middle of the night,
He never stops singing,
Turning a moment to a while.

And when the stars came out,
To say 'hello' to him,
He smiled up at the heavens,
And graced a new start,

He looked around, the creatures,
They were hearing what he said,
So he sang about the beauty,
that one with ears would surely get.

When sunlight seeped in,
And the roses curled to sleep,
He closed his eyes,
Waiting for fate to drag him in,

As he laid his hand down,
On the very last key,
He looked up at the sun,
And told it, 'don't weep',

And when the creatures of the night,
Curled tight around him,
And dragged him away,
From his very first love,
He noticed the colours,
The back and white had made,
And couldn't help,
but let his heart,
make its very last smile.
Originally this was going to be a parody of Suga (from BTS)'s 'First Love' but I guess it's a poem now.
Mar 2019 · 420
Blind to the Mirror
Cynthia Mar 2019
Simple words off a lonely page,
Could never describe how special you are,
Before you ignore, before you leave,
Understand that you are loved,

You are cared for,

If not now,
In the future,
It's never too late to try,
Out of every darkness,
Comes a light,

And even if you feel worthless,
Unwanted,
If you feel all those ugly words twisting inside,

Stop,
Stop for a moment to see,
See who you are as a whole,

You aren't worthless,
You aren't alone,
You deserve the very best,
If not more,

Every smile counts,
Are you blind to the smiled you've caused,
You may not see it but people know your cost,
You may not believe it but people will miss you if you're gone,

Believe the words I say,
When I say, it will get better,
You will grow,
It doesnt matter how old you are!
So don't end it now,
Don't end it when you have so much to live for,
And see where the wind carries you tomorrow.
I don't know if the people reading this will take it seriously but please, please talk to someone if you feel like you want to hurt yourself, if you feel like you deserve it. Cause no matter what you have done, what you look like, who you are, it may not matter to someone else. And if it does, surround yourself with better people who know who you are and accept you. Even if it may seem unlikely, the world has seven billion people and there are so so many people out there who could love you. So don't stop trying to find those people.
Mar 2019 · 114
Weave a Thread.
Cynthia Mar 2019
Our love goes on forever,
Never seen,
Yet, always shared,

Bloomed night skies,
Filled with brightness,
The lights can never match my smile,
As I feel you holding me tight,

I don't even know what I write!
My words fly off the page,
As my stomach fills with butterflies,
My oh my,
I'm never the one to resort to common sayings,
For what I feel,
I think it's too unique,
So different,
So calm,
No fireworks, no sparks,
Yet, so so much,

Oh I just can't explain love,
I feel as if I'm saying too much,
And saying nothing at all,

Maybe that's what love is?

Full yet empty,
Delicate yet powerful,
Simple yet complex,
Small yet whole,

Random, unknown,
Yet it makes sense when you know.

Oh what a beautiful thing love is,
Intricately woven with invisible thread,
Visible to the eyes that weaved it.
Feb 2019 · 162
Two Flowers
Cynthia Feb 2019
I saw two little flowers,
Growing side by side,
As I remembered,
Once upon a time,

You took me by the hand,
And showed me the ends of the Earth,
Our road led us here,
To these flowers,
As you whispered,
In my ear,

Let these flowers show our love,
Entwined, as they grow,
Everlasting,
As an endless river,
As an endless night.

But the stars always dissapear,
As the rivers do flow into the sea.

And I reached out,
And plucked a flower,
And I took it home with me.
Feb 2019 · 268
Night Sky
Cynthia Feb 2019
Count the stars,
As they cascade down the sky,
A river of milk- so bright,
Yet so dark.

At a time past the sun,
Evil's raid begins,
Under the veil of the night sky,
The faults lay unseen.
Jan 2019 · 409
Gaze
Cynthia Jan 2019
In the eyes of the Sun,
Amidst the grey clouds,
May he see the Moon that shines,
Heaven, oh divine,
Under the cascade of stars,
Night of our past,
Great beauty of the sky,
Right, as we may deny,
Youth is never a smile.
Okay, I wrote this to tell my mom that I was hungry. (Read the first letter of each line) but then I realized that I actually kinda like it? Idk, my mind is weird, sorry.
Jan 2019 · 459
i want to forget.
Cynthia Jan 2019
I remember.

That deserted park,
I do, I do remember!
We used to run around,
Playing hide and seek,
The seven of us.

The hidden pond,
In that old forest,
Don't you remember?
We pushed each other into the water,
Laughing,
Hugging,
Playing,
The six of us.

That little wooden house,
At the end of our road,
Ah, I would always remember,
We sneaked in,
And deemed it our hide out,
The five of us.

Oh, and our cramped up apartment,
How could I forget?
Watching late night movies,
Waking up tired as ever,
But never with a trace of regret,
The four of us.

And that abandoned theme park,
We always went on the Ferris Wheel,
When it reached the top,
We could see the whole land,
We swore we would travel it all one day,
The three of us.

That dusty old caravan,
Oh my,
Don't you remember?
We used to drive it to the end of the world,
Parked it in a field,
And talked about our future,
Gazing up at the stars,
The two of us.

And how I remember,
Laying down next to you guys,
In a pretty grass field,
Six stones surrounding me,
As I dozed off.

I remember...
Jan 2019 · 469
Blue.
Cynthia Jan 2019
Blue.
The warmest colour I know.
When you embrace me in your arms,
I'm no longer cold.

Blue,
Hearth of the Sea,
The fire it brings,
The fire I need.

Blue,
Oh please stay for the night,
I don't want to say goodbye,
Let me look longer,
I'm finally home,
In your eyes.
This just came outta nowhere??? From where I live, there aren't any blue eyed people. I thought the idea was sweet though, so I wrote it.
Jan 2019 · 140
Fake Mask
Cynthia Jan 2019
Put on your little fake mask,
Don't let them see you stumble,
Fall.
No.
No you can't

Flashes of White,
Flashes of Red,
Which will you chose?

Put on your little fake mask,
No need for them to worry,
All they know is who you are,
Up there,
On stage.

So don't show them,
Don't show them you're broken,
Lost,
Hurt.

That's not who you are after all,
Put on your little mask.
This is about idols coming up and performing on stage, no matter how tired they get. I saw a performance of a band and they were all doing good. But in backstage, they were all SO tired. It was heartbreakimg seeing how much effort they put but how tired they really are.
Jan 2019 · 110
You.
Cynthia Jan 2019
I Hate You.

Leave and never return,
Oh, I don't want you here anymore!
Vast irritance is what you bring,
Every time you utter those stupid, stupid words.

Yet, you never learn do you?
One day, you shall but-
Until then, I hate you.
This poem is just so pent up and winded. I'm not sure I like it that much tbh.
Jan 2019 · 153
Anxiety
Cynthia Jan 2019
"Hello? Yes? Are you-"
Hang up
What?
Hang up!
No!
Shut up,
Sit down,
Don't talk.
Uhh...

"Never mind,
Sorry to bother,
I'll just,
Leave..."
What the hell,
Anxiety?!

Just looking out,
For what might happen,
If you stumble or stutter,
What would they think? Imagine!

But if you do this,
Every time I talk,
I won't have anyone,
To help me out!

"Hey, we're having a party,
Wanna come over and have fun?"
"That would be great- "
NO!
WAIT!
"But... Err, I have some work,
That needs to be done"

Again, really?
Now what may the problem be?
It's just, so many people!
So much danger!
Urgh, I hate you Anxiety.
I don't think I have anxiety but I hate social gatherings and having to talk to strangers, sometimes even friends cause I'm scared of what they might say or think. If there's anyone out there who does have anxiety, know that you're not alone, you aren't repulsive and you wont be friendless forever. There are people out there who are accepting and willing to help.
Jan 2019 · 179
Hundred Acre Woods
Cynthia Jan 2019
Once upon a time,
I used to dream for light,
As I slept alone in bed.
And there I lay,
Either filled with thoughts,
Or filled with an empty head.

Then one cold night,
As the moon rose high,
I saw a book on the shelf,
I wiped off the dust,
And closed my eyes,
And then...

I read.

"Hello Cynthia!
Welcome back!
We missed you!
",
They all said.
And then I followed them home,
Deep through the woods,
Never to be seen again.
I just love Winnie the Pooh. It was my whole child hood and it brings back so many memories when I watch it. I honestly love them. So so much.
Jan 2019 · 443
Prometheus
Cynthia Jan 2019
It's the same old story,
Isn't it?
Oh mighty eagle,
Go ahead,
Tear it.

That's what they do,
Every time,
Every day,
Whenever something new appears,
They keep it at bay.

Oh mighty eagle,
As the trumpets sound high,
You people march on,
Blind,
To the agony,
The distress,
The loss,
"Who cares?
They aren't worth a lot!
"

And hey,
Maybe I'm wrong,
And if I am,
I'll understand,
For, someone who has heart,
Should know that we all -
are equal,
And play a part.

So mighty eagle,
Trumpets that reels us in,
Tell me, if you are wrong,
Are you willing to listen?
I've written two poems named "Prometheus" now but the title fits, I guess. This one is about ... Let's just say Trumpets and eagles. Yeah. That should sum it up. (*hint* *hint* Its about a famous Disney character that is a duck and has a last name named after a musical instrument)
Jan 2019 · 191
Prometheus
Cynthia Jan 2019
Brittle and Bound,
The pain never dies,
Reiterate, reborn,
A sight for old eyes.

A cliff, an edge,
When will it all end?
Halving halves,
The pain never lends.
This is what happens when I spend too much time on Ted ed -- Really good stories out there.
Jan 2019 · 174
On Another Spring Day
Cynthia Jan 2019
Where in time,
Here and now?
Are you mad enough,
To follow me, somehow?
Do you think
Our lives would collide?
In a lonely spring day,
Don't you wanna stay?
Oh please,
Won't you?
Have you got to go so soon?
Everyday as I wait,
No sign of you seems to grace,
You're only a silhouette,
Oh, why must you always fade?
Under the sea, we'll crawl,
All light will go out,
Right as we see,
Eyes glazed with harmony,
Going somewhere?
Oh so soon,
No time to stay,
Exhale the words we shouldn't say,
In another spring day,
Wait until then,
All stars will align,
In the right moment of time,
Together, we'll unite,
For we may say farewell,
Or good-bye,
Resonating in our minds,
You and I,
On another spring day,
Under the stars again,
Till then,
Oh, wait for me, my friend,
Come on now,
On three, two, one,
March to the beat of our hearts,
East, as the sun grows high,
Bask in it's glow,
Another spring day,
Comes and goes,
Keep our hearts on hold.
Read the first letter of each line. I wrote this 'cause my best friend wasn't texting me back. But it was also inspired by BTS's 'Spring Day' (ofc) and that one spongebob quote.
Dec 2018 · 214
Astralis
Cynthia Dec 2018
Staring past sunken skies,
Beyond darkness, twinkling lights,
A star is born admist grey clouds,
Straining to shine with others around.

Across galaxies and milkey white roads,
A pretty star begins to grow old,
With a bust of flame, a shattering light,
Of Scarlets and Rubies,
Its death rings wild.
Astralis - pertaining to the stars
Dec 2018 · 661
Deprived
Cynthia Dec 2018
Yes, I visited my old friends one day,
Told them all about my life,
How things have been these days,
Reminiscing the treasures we once shared.

Yes, we sat in silence,
Under the glistening stars,
As I told them,
"It would be nice of you to pay a visit,

Never seem to catch a hold of you these days,
But I hope you're now happy as we once were,
As you now have each other.
But it does get a little lonely for me."

Alas, they never replied,
Perhaps it was the six feet of dirt
That blocked my sigh
As I said,

"Farewell, once again,
My friends,
Your time had run out,
And my hourglass is soon to finish,

And I'll join you,
with a smile."
கையறுநிலை (kai-yaru nilai) - A Tamil word to describe the utter helplessness of losing something and never being able to get it back. (In this case, Friends) (P.S. The literal meaning is: slipping out from one's grasp)
Dec 2018 · 211
Shrieking Silence
Cynthia Dec 2018
Oh what a dream it was!
You were there.
That same insufferable smile,
That same annoyance.

And I hated you,
Didn't I?
Wanted nothing to do with you,
Didn't I?

I hated you.
I hate you.

But alas,
The light shone through the window,
And tore down my ecstasy,

You're gone,
Stuck in an endless sleep.
And I'm stuck,
In this irritating tranquillity.
Dec 2018 · 194
Final Sky
Cynthia Dec 2018
If I may presume,
I bid farewell to you,
For the very last while.
'Till next twilight,
When the sun and moon collide,
It's up to Destiny
And her bind -
To decide when we'll sleep
Under the same sky,
Again.
O/L s are OVER and this is kind of a goodbye to my classmates.
Oct 2018 · 1.3k
Burning a Flame
Cynthia Oct 2018
Tennessee, San Diego,
Atlanta, Central Park,
California, San Francisco,
Let's do this, ORLANDO!

Yeah, how many places?
How many lives?
And to think we grew up,
What a waste of time.

Don't you think it's time to change?
From all our childish ways?
What kind of point you think you're making?
You say it's against what you believe in?

And before you take a step,
Before you open that mouth,
Isn't it kinda ironic?
What you've become now?

**** your way to heaven.
That's what you think will happen, right?
Look how much you've  been driven,
By hate and pointless crimes.

Isn't it kinda ironic?
Isn't it just too funny?
How we're trying hard to freeze,
What we think is ice?
Just take your time to think,
Are we really wise?

'Sinning' is what they're doing?
Take a look in the mirror.
You say love is a crime,
When you're committing m u r d e r.

Well, we will fight together,
Together, we were created,
We're all children of God,
No one deserves to be hated.
They're the same as you,
They're the same as us,
Oh forget it! LOVE is LOVE,
Who cares about gender?
I just hate the fact that some people think it's okay to hate other people in the name of religion, where there is nothing that says they can. They're only using religion as an escuse. Maybe some religions do prohibit it but I'm pretty sure it doesn't say one can **** people for it. This poem is definitely not adressing the reader, by the way. You might know who it's adressing.
Oct 2018 · 129
Mr. Rain,
Cynthia Oct 2018
Pitter patter, Pitter patter,
Mr. Rain, why won't you come?
Our Earth is dry,
So please come by,
We spent too long in the sun.

Pitter patter, Pitter patter,
Mr. Rain, it's been so long.
Our crops will die -
Without your smile,
So sing your favourite song.

Pitter patter, Pitter patter,
Drip, Drip and Drop.
Drum your rhythm,
To utmost presicion,
And never, ever stop.
I just love the rain.
Oct 2018 · 239
Hearth of the sea
Cynthia Oct 2018
WEIGH ANCHOR!
LOWER THE SAILS!
It's time! It's TIME,
We leave for the day!

So long, Tortuga!
We'll be back, in a while.
But for now, its the sea,
For my crew and I.

The sun is setting,
We'll follow the stars.
Another journey,
Breaking from our bars.

The warmth that we have,
Our ship, our Family.
The 'Arabella' sails out,
To the Hearth of the sea.
This is kinda a poem... from a book... that doesn't exist?
Oct 2018 · 597
Enough
Cynthia Oct 2018
A candle shines
brighter than a million stars
when its close enough.

Don't think
you have to light up the sky.
For it's enough
if you make one smile.
Oct 2018 · 110
Drama
Cynthia Oct 2018
ACT ONE.
Aren't we tied?
Pulling strings,
To make us smile.
A deed of ease,
We struggle to do.
Are we acting?
Or are we true?

ACT TWO.
Hello, Goodbye.
Words we say,
Just to be nice.
An empty void.
A gift, no card.
Are we acting?
Or are we on guard?
Cynthia Aug 2018
Hello? ... Hello? ... Oh!
It works! It works!
AHH, MY PLAN!
It FINALLY works!

Hello there, reader!
Its nice to meet you!
Finally, my bridge works.
Hi! My name is Blue.

Me and my friends-
Oops.. My friends and I,
Will tell you GREAT stories
And they'll blow your MIND!

Yellow's ones are the best,
Moral and heart.
Black's ones are scary,
Any day, I'll take a pass.

In fact, Black is logical.
Terrifyingly precise.
And Red ... Urgh, Red,
We don't fit, Red and I.

Okay, so anyway,
My stories are nice?
Let's say they're creative,
Adventurous, in my eyes.

So now that I'm done,
This is my good bye.
I hope to meet you
In another special time.
Aug 2018 · 175
Hues
Cynthia Aug 2018
A reader is the key
to all great texts.
For without one, they're nothing.
A bare sheet, I guess.

For a reader is the one
to bring life to stories.
And without you, they're nothing,
Collecting dust as they weep.
I'm starting this series where the characters Blue, Black, Yellow and Red are talking to the reader discussing ... Emotions? Problems? You'll see. I hope you guys like it.
Aug 2018 · 847
Our Choice.
Cynthia Aug 2018
They don't know
What we fear,
What we hate,
What we'll near.

'Cause who cares?!
They're "greater"!
Who cares,
If we disappear?

All day, we fight,
To make them understand,
Why can't they get it?
We're only doing what we can!

Maths? Science? Commerce?
Well, they're great!
But what about Art? Music?
The subjects we can take.

We know we're " useless",
But we're built that way.
There are enough people out there,
Who can turn the world great.

So, what's the point,
In doing something we can't do?
This "pathetic" life of ours
Was not designed for you.

Whenever you say,
Whenever yo speak,
We take in those words
Of what we should be.

But then, we try,
We try and we fail,
We'll think low of us,
And then we'll wail.

So please, dear adults,
Don't raise a forced life
Let us be free,
And you'll see us all fly

Let us all speak,
Our beautiful minds,
And we'll show you a world,
You never could find.
I live in a place where parents expect their kids to become a doctor or an engineer. It's always the same dream for a lot of parents.
I just hate that.
Aug 2018 · 403
Dear "Adults",
Cynthia Aug 2018
"ADULTS. ARE. IDIOTS!"
Oh, did I strike a nerve?
Well, "sorry!", I guess.
I'll turn around, take a curve.

But wait, did you think
That we would stand by?
Well... You. Are. Wrong.
you aren't always right.

Is this what you think?
That your opinions are true?
Never taking the blame
For all the wrongs that you do.

You think you are everything.
You are mighty, in your eyes
You think you rule the world
And you see us as mice.

But you never take action,
Shunning those who do!
You create all these problems.
And leave us to solve them for you.

You fit us in a box,
And tie us with ropes,
You show us your desired future
And tell us they're our hopes.

Well guess what, adults
We can think too.
And when you see us fly,
You'll know what we can do.

We will all fight together.
And we will see you leave.
Mark my words dear adults,
We're not as simple, as you want us to be.
An important note to take is that "Adults" is only used to address the irresponsible, pride-filled grownups of our generation who are also very close minded. It is absolutely NOT addressing matured people who actually care about others. (Sorry if this poem offended you. But if you're a nice person, this is NOT addressed to you as I mentioned before but I gotta make this clear)
Aug 2018 · 771
Nature's secret
Cynthia Aug 2018
With nature, comes beauty
That many would seek,
Of bears and lions
And amber trees,

Of streams so shallow
Where ants could swim,
They dance on pebbles,
Joined limb to limb.

And once in a while,
A Nightingale sings
On an oak tree so high
Where angels could live.

The secrets of nature
That one would seek,
The beauty, the love
That lies within.
I live in a city so whenever my family travels, I always love looking at the forests outside. (I never saw a bear or lion or a Nightingale but I know they're there)
Aug 2018 · 163
Trust
Cynthia Aug 2018
Shadows cast
in ways which last,
Throughout time,
Forever divine.

The glorious streaks
cross my heart,
Growing thorns,
Tearing apart.

The pretty curls
holding me tight,
Taking away
all of my light.

And then I think,
How something so bright,
Can curve and twist
Into darkness alike.
Aug 2018 · 3.0k
Colourful
Cynthia Aug 2018
Have you heard
of a town called blue?
The reason for the name?
Sure, I can tell you.

So smile, relax
And try not to frown
'Cause the story you'll hear
Is not a happy one.

Picture a city,
An ancient town,
Full of people
Who all look down.

Now picture it blue,
Their clothes, their skin,
Everything they own,
Even the smallest ring!

The roads are blue,
The buildings are blue,
The houses, the cars,
Even the food too!

The sad thing is,
They all look the same,
Their clothes, their hair,
And they all never change.

They had no personality,
They never had much fun,
They were always on edge,
As if something would go wrong.

No imagination
Was the main problem they had.
The reason for this
Was a mayor who was sad.

The town had a history
Of sad, sad mayors
Who make others sad
And sorrow in layers.

Everything was safe
And always sound
But something was changed
When the mayor's son was born.

On a calm spring night,
On the twentieth of May,
Joe was born,
Looking bright as the day.

This was a problem
That the mayor despised
His son had colour
Except for his blue eyes.

He had pale skin
And a pair of pale hands
His hair was blonde
Just like the sand.

So his father trained Joe
To be blue like him
He had to grow up
His patience grew thin.

Day and night
The mayor always tried
His plan did work
At least in his eyes.

Joe's hair remained yellow.
His skin became blue
But his mind never changed
As the mayor thought it would.

In a last attempt,
He locked him in a room,
Told him to grow up
Ever so soon.

So with sadness and sorrow
Joe sat down on his bed
He imagined a life
All in his head.

Then one day,
on a pretty summer night,
Joe escaped
Disappeared in plain sight.

He wanted to see
Outside of his town
Wanted to see
What exactly was going on.

Why were his people
Always so sad?
Always angry,
Or always mad?

He walked and walked
To the edge of his town
Where a wall stood high
Mighty and proud.

He found a small door
That lead outside
He pulled it open
And squirmed at the light.

What he saw,
He couldn't have imagined
For he saw colours
That looked like magic.

He saw red and yellow
With green and white
He saw orange and purple
And black like the night.

He saw trees with specks
Of brown and green,
A bat, a bird
And other small things.

The boy was in wonder
As how could this be?
He wondered if the lack of this
Was why they weren't ever happy.

Then he saw
A shack near a lake,
The walls were ancient
The paint was flaked.

He knocked on the door
One, two, three
A boy opened and said
"Hey! You look like me!

Except for the skin
Or the clothes you wear
I never saw someone
Who could look this sad!"

Joe examined the boy
The boy who talked
He told Joe to come in
And in he walked.

Joe then learned
That his name was Kyle,
And the weird thing on his face
Was called a smile.

Then Joe asked
How Kyle could be so happy
So he said,
"I imagine and then I be!"

Then Kyle asked
Why he was always blue
Then Joe answered,
"If only I knew!

My father, the mayor
is always sad,
He tells me to grow up
And then he gets mad.

He says, 'The real world
Isn't a happy one
You have to learn
Or else you'll fall down'.

Kyle shook his head
"That's not what mother told me
The world isn't sad
It only is if you imagine it to be".

The longer he talked
The more Joe changed
His skin turned pale
And colour he gained.

The moon rose
And the stars all shone
When the lights went out,
Joe knew it was time to go.

So off he went
Saying 'Good bye' to Kyle
And on his face
Was what his friend called a 'smile'.

He told his father
About the things he learned
He told him to imagine
To get the happiness he yearned.

But his father didn't listen
And told him to go
"Learn the real world,
You have to grow".

But Joe wasn't satisfied
His father wasn't happy,
Then he made a new plan
"I have to get them to think like me".

So he went and got a paper
And got out a pen
Then he drew a blue ball,
being thrown by children.

But it wasn't enough
As he saw this every day
So he took out more paper
And began to paint.

He painted a person
But with huge ears and a tail!
He painted a hammer
In the shape of a nail!

He painted a bat
But with butterfly wings!
And painted some other,
Wonderful things.

He climbed up the stairs
Onto the front porch,
And he yelled out aloud
To get the attention of all.

"Listen, all of you!
Pay attention
Take in this lesson
Use imagination.

You can be happy
If you believe to be
You can be you
And I can be me.

The reason we look alike
Is because we can't imagine
So put your mind to use
It'll be like magic.

Think of anything
Your mind can weave
It can be real
If you believe".

And with that
Joe quieted down,
He showed a smile
As he got rid of his frown.

He threw his paintings
Out to them all,
Told them to see
What cou­ld be done.

He looked at the crowd
And saw his friend from the shack
And slowly but surely,
Kyle began to cl­ap.

The others were hesitant
Their thoughts ran wild
"What if th­e mayor's right?
This is only his child!"

A girl stood up
She lo­oked five years old
She joined in with Kyle,
Her claps loud and b­old.

They all looked on
As the girl showed a smile
And one by one
They joined, in a while.

But ­this didn't last
As a voice rang out,
Joe looked behind
To see hi­s father lash out.

"The real world is sad
It's corrupted and mad,
You have to be aware
Or you'll end in despair.

You shouldn'­t imagine,
You shouldn't be different,
You shouldn't be you,
And ­you shouldn't attempt.

If you are different
Then it'll give a re­ason
For enemies to rise,
The cause of treason.

You shouldn't be­lieve
That you could be happy
It will never last
It's what father­ taught me".

The crowd grew quiet,
Hearing the mayor's speech,
Of course they ­can't be happy!
"I shouldn't be me".

His son lost hope
And let h­is thoughts go blue,
His shoulders sagged 
He had a frown too.

Kyle was desperate
And his­ friend needed him
So the coloured boy shouted,
"Don't listen, Jo­e! Or you won't win!".

Remember what I told you!
Remember what y­ou learned!
You have to believe,
To get the things you yearned".
­
Joe shook his thoughts,
He was back on track
So both of them syn­chronized
About what they learned in the shack.

"The world isn't sad! 
It only is if you imagine it to be­!
You can be happy,
You have to believe!

Remember this talk,
Rem­ember this speech,
You can be you
And I can be me.

Think of anyt­hing
Your  mind can weave,
You'll make it real,
If you believe".
­
Joe paused 
And so did Kyle
They both had on
What they called a ­'smile'.

The crowd sighed 
And made their own smiles
They knew t­hey were happy
It would stretch on for miles.

One by one
Their colours changed,
From blue to red
And a bit of Orange.

And all the town 
Was covered i­n hues,
The people were in awe
"Look at me! Look at you!"

And th­at was the day,
People were never the same,
In a town called 'Blu­e'
The reason for the name?

Sure, I can tell you,
And so can they.
It was to remember
This very special day.

It was to remember 
That they were happy again,
All because of two friends
Who weren't afraid o­f a change.
Inspired by Dr.Seuss.
I'm pretty sure no one would take the time to read this but if you do, I'm really thankful :)
Aug 2018 · 990
Hypocrisy
Cynthia Aug 2018
My poems don't have a sentence.
They're vague, unfinished, unclear.
And they certainly don't address the reader,
For that would be unprofessional, dear.

My poems don't have a meaning.
They're meant to be read and understood.
And they certainly don't have a title.
Yes, guidance is not at all good.

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Commas and them old fullstops.
Questions? Hah! What do they even do?
Exclamations? What silly ideas!
My poems don't need you!

Yes, my poems never rhyme.
For what use will it lend?
Yes, my poems never hold ironic lies.
And of course, they'll never end.
This was really fun to write
Aug 2018 · 191
A rainbow or a book?
Cynthia Aug 2018
Love.
What is it?
Is it a rainbow?
A light that saves you
In the darkest of storms?

When you give up,
Is it a hope?
Tell me, when you drown,
Is it a rope?

And I think,
The colours, the beauty.
Love.
Is it a rainbow?

No.
No, it can't be,
For love isn't bright,
Love isn't just ecstasy.

It's not a single emotion,
Nor can it be explained.
Only those in love would understand,
Know what it contains.

No, it's not a rainbow
For everyone sees its colours, its beauty.
But love, oh love,
It's only shared with those who see.

Love is a book.
Yes, it is indeed.
For at first it seems new.
And then you start to read.

And you then realize,
It contains bright colours,
More than a rainbow ever could.
But try and show
Your book to others
And you'll see your story,
Your love,
They wouldn't know.
Love isn't perfect but it is for those in love
Aug 2018 · 1.2k
August days
Cynthia Aug 2018
The harsh cold darkness
and the weeping sky
went away for these days
and left a warm night.

Dew drops guided
gently by the wind,
They greet us with pleasure
as they graze our skin.

And in the lonely blue sky,
The sun starts to smile
And we think gladly to ourselves,
Hello there, summer time.
Finally
Aug 2018 · 168
Poet's Analysis
Cynthia Aug 2018
In a poet's eyes,
The smallest lines
can hold the biggest truth.
Aug 2018 · 134
Point.
Cynthia Aug 2018
As I lay here awake,
Thinking of my past mistakes
I wonder, oh wonder
What could all this mean?

Are we living as we're supposed to?
Are we doing as much as we can?
For we never know when death could arrive
Tell me, are we doing just fine?

For right now, as I waste away
I could help, I could save
But I just lay here with nothing
But should I do everything?

I know I have potential
But should I use all of it?
Oh tell me, I'm confused
How can I change?
How should I live?
It makes me scared that I'm not doing everything I can to live my life to the fullest. Should life be unforgettable? Because in the end what would we gain?
Aug 2018 · 148
Angels
Cynthia Aug 2018
I close my eyes and see different skies,
Glowing stars and glimmering smiles.
I close my eyes and there they'll be
Laughing, waving, calling to me.

I close my eyes and there they are
In my dreams, they come from far
With soft, silk feathers of gold and white
Why do they never stay for the night?

Oh how I wish I was one of them,
Flying away, out of sight
But alas I shall be trapped
In this cage without flight
Angels are so cool
Aug 2018 · 127
Happiness
Cynthia Aug 2018
The feeling, the emotion, the happiness
that you feel.
The ecstasy , the aching , the joy,
Its all real.

It swallows you up, till you can laugh
It lets you live, lets you love

But the problem comes
When it goes away
A void is left
And the smile will fade

You stand there wondering
Reaching, confused
That happiness, when it goes,
It takes some of you.
Aug 2018 · 169
Hello world
Cynthia Aug 2018
Welcome, my friends,
To the view of my eyes
I'll show you the world
From what I see, what I find.

I'll show you reality
Or simply some myths
But I hope you like
This average gift.
I guess this is my introduction. I hope you like my poems.
:)

— The End —