Forget iambic pentameter,
or rhyming every line;
your a poet or your not,
if you think you are-that's fine.

Forget the mystic musings,
let's call a *****, a *****;
just give it all you've got,
hey, we're not getting paid.

Forget the morbid statements,
they don't get you anywhere;
and if they ever did -
who the hell would care?

Call the glowing rose, a rose,
not some flaky, foolish flower;
call a downpour- heavy rain,
not some puny shower.

Call it love or call it hate,
not some stupid choice;
but shout it from the mountaintop,
in your strongest voice!

In your absence
many lessons I did learn
like how to play with matches
and watch bridges burn

In your absence
many lessons I did learn
like how to see someone starving
and watch them yearn

In your absence
many lessons I did learn
like how to wait for karma
and watch the tables turn

In your absence,
many lessons I did learn
how I wish you wouldn't have taught me
how to feel so spurned

Here's to the writers—

You have the power to paint words
Into beautiful art—
To be able to touch a soul—
To touch one's heart

You can make the stormy sky blue—
Stop the waves from crashing to the shore
You can make all the withered flowers bloom—
Turn winter into summer, a glimpse of gold

You can make someone's dark day colorful—
Gather hope to put in between your words
Make them feel that they are understood—
That they aren't alone in this cruel world

You can mend someone's broken heart—
Put love in between your lines
Let them know that they are enough—
That being hurt is just a part of life

Yes—
We can make a whole new perspective—
We can create a world of our own
And no, we don't speak only for ourselves—
But also for all the lost souls

—Thalia Bautista; Just keep writing

"I shall always
be second to the sky,"
the clouds admitted to the sea.
The sea did not think this was so.
"I may reflect the blue when I'm still,
but you hold me like the sky never will."