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 Dec 2015 Chalsey Wilder
M
lyrics
 Dec 2015 Chalsey Wilder
M
You don't mean too much, just everything to me.
Grace by Briston Maroney. Not mine.
I am looking for a place to return to.
I have no strength.

I find myself exposed, one skewed shadow
pulling roots beneath the sun.

Overnight I became wary of everything.
I remark at my own existence. That I could walk away from it.
As all colours part from me.

I open my mouth. I am full of willows and moth wings.
I look for words. I find the old ones and dig up
empty rooms.

I have become so simple.
My anger slouches in the corner like a rook.  Shuffling, always shuffling.
But he will not speak to me.

This is a living thing.
The paradox is a minor landscape.

No time believes in me.

I will say it again.
I woke this morning and found myself missing.
 Dec 2015 Chalsey Wilder
m i a
she
 Dec 2015 Chalsey Wilder
m i a
she
she was not beautiful

she was the sun coming up
  on an early morning

she was the bloom of
        an april flower

she was the stars shining
  brightly through the midnight sky

she was the rainbow
  after the rain

she was the smile
  on my face that would
    never seem to go
      away.

'beautiful is just too over used, to describe her, so he used these words insead.'
this is my first day on here, and i love this site already. you guys are really rad, sleep well and goodnight. <3
so bare and weathered
with senses dead like leather
the depth has been measured
we're not here together

you were my only pleasure
life was as light as a feather
for worse or for better?
that pledge is dead forever
 Dec 2015 Chalsey Wilder
Rj
It's obvious the memory still lasts,
I tried making it last for days
But I thought it would eventually go away
A small insignificant detail,
I made it a subconscious want
How on earth
Poetry is an extension of emotion
a reaction to the phenomena of this world
and to the manifestations of our species
an exaggeration of the mind
drugged by the beauty
or the horror of reality 
an effort to recreate in words
the sensed visions of our consciousness
and express them in tangible
understandable
symphonies of thought

Margaret Ann Waddicor August 2015
I have a number of poems on what poetry is.
Roses are red
violets are blue
last time we talked
I forgot to mention I love you
I love your simplistic imperfections
The way our brains make simple connections
Looking into both of our kind hearted eyes
Wishing we can minimize the pain we both feel inside

When we're put together
You and I love each other forever and more
Our hearts range deep
Starting from the vibrant colors of our hearts core
One day I'll say I love you as I look into the beauty of your green eyes
Touching the softness of your hair
And the calmness of your skin
I'll tell you
I adore the bravery of the fight you have within
And The warmth of your...
I'll pause and say where do I begin
And as the wind blows ill smile Into your eyes
As the loveliness of yourself smiles back
I'll say I love you
And I hope your okay with that
2015 Isabella Rose
 Dec 2015 Chalsey Wilder
Lizley
I want to run away,
to detach myself from myself
Leave behind that ball of pain building in the depths
Inside this heart, inside of me –
            inside the love you never feel
            when you hold me or look at me
            or when your fingers ring the bell;

It’s time to say goodbye,
to detach myself from myself
from this solitary brokenness which I forever felt
But first, tell me how you begin
to live and smile again
Tell me
How do you escape and free yourself
from being clothed in pain?
© Lizley (Maria Flordeliz Yamog)
|04.22.2015|
Sick and tired of the same old vulnerabilities.
I am not a poet,
But a poem,
Just trying to complete myself.
Or maybe,
-I am Completing myself..
Although I still have hurt that needs to mend, I'm beginning to feel like myself again.
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