flowing so gracefully across the river I see a lovely rose with deep red tones radiant wet gleaming petals caught my eye should I extend my hand to revive it's beauty? what was the reasoning of its loneliness? was this romantic figure sent to me? yet I refuse to turn away
looking out my bed room window everything was in black and white trees and grass vibrated in the wind further down eyeing the white gate a bright golden light caught me eye hovering was one ray of true beauty a long stemmed red rose stood tall with such vibrant green and healthy leaves yet so very far and out of my reach should I extend my hand to capture its beauty> what was the reasoning of its loneliness? yet I refuse to turn away
I might get a little lazy even if its kicked a little crooked I wont let it stop my flow I'll still keep the ball rolling
I might come across some obstetricals things might get a little puzzling I might even confuse myself but I'll put the pieces back together
there might be a few rocks on the path I might crack the boulders or rip the seems but each shattered pebble I'll toss aside stitching everything right back in place
they linger tease and deride tugging and pulling at my heart the pieces may come apart sometimes they don't transpire yet they keep me ...... T H I N K I N G..... my creative thoughts...... They Hang on threads In my brain Nagging just annoying me Knotting and tangling up In tight knots causing Normal feelings that got me Going insane..... ......nope not me .... .... I'm Just.... T--H--I--N--K--I--N--G
it takes time to sort through sometimes you may get lost it might be mind boggling but keep trying don't give up
I'm starting over fresh putting the past behind and moving forward with every Tic and every Toc with every minute passing upon the great clock I lose a little Yet I gain alot... Tic...Toc...Tic...Toc
Fine arts is my major in school...I have enjoyed art, photography and of course writing ever since I was young; and I still do... I know this may sound odd but no matter the form of art; even if its just scribbled notes I keep all my rough drafts... My mom she calls me the "paparazzi" of the family...I am always snapping picture... Can you believe I have over 900 and counting; notebooks, sketchpads, and loose-leaf binders full of all my ideas, sketches and odd thoughts that may pop in my head?.. I've been collecting since I was 6 years old.... ART; any type was and still is my passion today... I try to carry a notebook, sketchpad and my camera everywhere I go to jot down or capture the little things that come to my mind.... Sometimes my notes don't even make a bit of since but it is the creativity I put into them that makes it fun.... When ever I feel I've hit a writers or artist BLOCK I go through my notebooks. I'm always seeing something inspiring that may take me to another world of imagination. I think I could probably write a book or two with all the thoughts I've collected.. Yep That's Me ... LadyBird
ignore yesterday's rain let it stay behind for today is anew tomorrow isn't promised so live in the moment enjoy making it last there 's nothing to do about the past but learn from it
Take A Step Fall; But Get Back Up Try Again Until You Get It Right Don't Put Down Your Wings Keep On Flying The Skies Which Are Full Of Dreams And In Every Cloud There's Hope So Come Out Of Your Cocoon Don’t Blend Into The Crowd Be A Part Of This Would And Let Your Colors Shine Bright
many days spent waiting behind my quiet yet bitten lips are words hidden deep entwining in a special language the dialect of love so sweet like wine capturing my soul with one sip just one kiss from your lips I'm drunk
my heart locked in a lonely rhythm whistling through a thunder storm realigning all the stars above oh how I've felt so all alone his gentle tender breeze now blown for I humm bitter dreams no more
his pen takes the wild side giving me the butterflies seducing me with every word I smile feeling so complete when my heart skips a beat we’re making love on paper each and every time we write spilling our ink like passion across the hot moisten sheets thoughts seeping through the secret places of my body from the invisible ink of his tongue strolling caressing up and down exploring lines between my thighs strong and powerful yet gentle words lancing pages galloping ******* peak spacing legs wide for his touch to seek every word sailing veins feeding my mind guiding my senses with such a soft touch his lance pen of ink slides coursing my body excelling deep down my chambers of pleasure fueling an ending stream of our burning desires savoring the unbridled passion melting us as one
on the very edge lightly at times tip upon my thoughts a small drink of ink slowly fallen dew dance with a flip of written words they make me think tear drops of beauty weeping stars sing songs made for two
singing her melodies of torment hiding in a chamber of lead awakened and degenerated yet no one seemed to care left lies and lost love pulling the final thread the heaven's bled a river of red from the fall of her severed head
she failed to take a breath as her darkened thoughts penetrate through the hollow core of her soul the feeling of nausea hit and came with her fear of death
worry lingered her thinking brain covering the walls with ugliness her mind is stained black with pain what was she to do; leave or weep? there was no comprehension of the monster which she was about to meet
she's choking on falling tears that claw down her sadden face there's no escaping the monster in the crevices of her mind hovering her deepest thoughts
with no mask concealing the shadows of her darkened fears she had no time at all to inhale dripping wet eyes filled up with hesitation crying tears of sadness that has taken over her warm soul
the monster trapping her soul strangles her with a tightened noose coated with hurt and pain its barbwire teeth of darkness holds her head down very low chaining her against the wall she hangs there deep in sorrow away from the world all alone reflecting on yesterday's rain
she could not speak; her silence caused her tears to tumble the damaged thoughts down every line of the damp pages smudged with her words of the hurt and pain that covered every inch of her inside journal
there is true darkness trapping her soul leading her through a maze of loneliness causing her to loose the shape of her whole the young girl she use to be has vanished leaving her a confused woman living in her own garden of hell
quietly observing the area within sight surrounded by the stench of the dumpsters hearing squeaking sounds in the night its keen eyes swiveled to pinpoint the noise in the distance it spots its target climbing over a spilled garbage bag the ragged mouse was starving yet working so hard to sniff out anything edible which could be its next meal being quick on its feet it realized it was being watched so it ran so fast to get away from what it saw as its enemy the greedy rat
there are as many definitions of poetry as there are poets as a writer I feel poetry is a form of art; the antidote for depression an illness that can take a away all hope from a determined soul with a passion for living life but not enough strength to climb from the deep pit of darkness that shadows the heart
I know from experience that poetry is a powerful antidote yet it may not cure depression but will help keep it under control my mind I know is an ocean flooded with feelings, emotions and thoughts when its too hard to say what I feel I grab my pen and poetry become the paint of my unspoken thoughts
poetry is my lasso of words that has pulled barbwire of confused thoughts from the crevices of my thinking mind bridging from the rocky cliffs of frustration to the solid valley covered lands of peace
hidden in the hovering clouds of depression is a locked door that blocks the exit of a crisp and clear wonderful world holding the true beauty of imagination hostage yet to free the darkened soul use the antidote for it is the powerful key unlocking creativity as a writer I call this; the key of "POETRY"
sometimes my words can hit so instantly that just the way that they flow from me powered by imagination is the best to be its at my fingertips and its my magic key I put my heart and soul in my creativity making masterpieces throughout my poetry
Caught In The Rain Hair Dripping Wet Clothes All Soaked Oh Boy Its Just Not My Day Oh-Ah; Oh-Ah That’s What You Say You May Think I’m Going Insane Nope Not Just Yet ! Want To Bet ? My Thoughts Are Just Shaking My Brain You Won’t And Never Will Understand Its Only I, Myself And Me That Can Handle This Stupidity
the warmth of your leaves makes me think of all the secrets I've told you and the many years we've been friends you hold them all down and deep within I think of that beautiful picture I paint in my dreams every time we're together I remember the times we've cuddled up close when ever I was afraid or had a problem you were always there for me whenever
there you stand with your feet under ground you shiver from the wind’s bitter sound. fall has come so very cold, you still stands quietly with tears streaming down yellow and gold. yes, fall has come to knot the summer tie please, willow tree please don’t cry
there is a breeze in the air this evening as I sit under you my willow the wind caresses my cheek and I see the blue sky above me it seems your swaying leaves are becoming too weak I've felt the tips of your leaves and tasted the tears in which you weep I've laid against your trunk and listened to your heart as it skipped a beat
I began to wonder what wondering really is it's a curious thing to know dispatched; but why? I now see why you cry I will hold your trunk my willow until its time to say goodbye please don't weep more for heavenly light shines through this bright wonderful sky for which you've cried for me and now I'm crying for you
Friends were what we use to be I was there for you as you were for me we shared and passed secrets; saw almost everything eye to eye buddies we were you and I; as a cobweb to a blinded fly so complete, round as a circle, all in one loop now two lonely lost feathers just blowing on by do we even know what broke our friendship hoop I received a letter one day with no real reason why and all I found inside was the sad words "Good-bye"
woke up in the sand the music stopped playing the fun was gone the party was over grasping the sand looking into to the ocean shadows mocking the embarrassment was too drunk to even notice being left there all alone so called friends didn't care to wake you looking into the sunrise weeping searching for a pay phone in close reach realizing someone stole your wallet walking off the beach with no ride home
he fried his eggs on the stove and cooked them real slow still he burnt his lips to a crisp. that's why he speaks with a lisp he's not cool or even hip yet from his waist he strip because his pants were ripped it's wasn't to show off how well he's equipped it was a huge slip
my gut instincts tells me right from your wrong I am my own follower I stride to my own song I buried the scare a mark of your betrayal I inhaled new life my other was just too frail I got tired of the strains of the heavy pain I took the tragedy but it was you I blame I took the breath of rebirth I am now a new I left, forgot and survived you shattered glass lays upon my floor there once was a window now a locked door
failed yet false exploding smile belly full of butterflies heart skipping pulse in lost of illusive alibis time measured and deceiving lies over lapping lies
teeth and fist tightly secured hard as stone belly knot tied blocked tears resisted it was me who cried
living through silent droplets that fall from the eyes unable to forget the wounds written by the fallen lies down the red stained cheeks with belly knots and ties the broken hearts hurt soul tries its best to hold on while hope is slowly being stolen by lies over lapping lies
the sun light went out when he broke my heart it sat there before me as the moon fell apart in his pocket of beauty yet nothing could dent my joy loving him was my duty such an unworthy boy
I sometimes get one of those headaches that lingers thinking it's gone but it's not I feel there isn't much I can do but purge my words onto my paper asking the lines to take it away I need to put these emotions somewhere I have been silent too long and I'm hoping my mind stays on track and the head ache goes away
change is inevitable the world is spinning but I feel lost in time trying to make sense of things but there was never sense... only feelings....I feel too much...
the wind may change directions and blow gray shadowed skies over me blocking my concentration driving my mind crazy
I try so hard to change the way the wind is blowing but my thoughts leaves behind many questions and yet sometimes I don't even feel like answering with "why" or "I don't know" yet those thoughts continue
I take in a deep breath and the gray will fade making things better I just keep moving forward with my chin up its never easy but everything will be alright
its a brand new year yet sometimes I just want the days to last longer but times does fly by with no way to slow it down no matter how hard I try
I float through time just like birds soaring the sky I live life to it fullest yet changing with each step I take the steps that I make as go are for my next generation to follow
I am still able to keep my flow through every word I type or write I can feel just what and how I feel it really inspires me for this I know Yes I do, I do really understand I must be patient for it takes time to heal I can tell that all will be ok
change is such a good thing to see for without change the Earth just might stop its spin; then where would I be?
dreams of the future and the past all shines under the sky of the mind a touch of transparent curiosity lingers a glimpse of light and with every step imagination hovers right behind intertwining the prisms of hopes and dreams shining rain-bowed paths though skies of infinity
if one were but mind alone, a spirit of thought then would things imagined be real? can the mind stand upon a rainbow bridge and cross over to lands beyond? or should one fall back to the gravitation of reality? all depending on weather an open mind can or is willing to weigh the gravity of a rainbow full of light and color or the *** of gold underneath; the scale between the two "Reality" and "imaginative"
can one man alone move a mountain? he can sit and dream of a world without one or rise, and make his dream a reality if he's foolish he could take up a shovel and continue dreaming; if he's wise, he could rally an army and conquer the mountain if he's powerful, with a click of his fingers; "****" the mountain is gone; but it all was first a dream a "*** of gold at the end of a rainbow"
there is a piece of rainbow for everyone upon a magic cloud a dream world elusive as a butterfly a place where only they know a world only their minds can go an open mind dreaming the dream reaching for the stars making it happen following, believing in the beauty of the
I'm lost at the red light of confusion in between my life, my mind, the world and me determined stubbornness holds anxiety in my heart right now I'm wondering of all the secrets I've never told there are so many secrets forgotten secrets that whispers the tales of the chilled soul that others can not see
like an old used dish towel tossed aside like nothing at all just hanging there waiting to fall stripped from love rinsed with pain absorbing the hurt out comes the rain what happened to just leave me behind there is no answer to comprehend this residue I find
cute,funny, smart makes you wonder whats behind the smile charming, sweet, satisfying may sooth the urge for a little while yet not your cup of tea not a toy on a string I've made up my mind I'm not your play thing I refuse to waste more of my precious time if you love me why wont you just set me free?
sadness clawing behind stained glass windows emotionally packed faults with the possibility of rain an endlessly heart beat not yet to cry but still feels the leaking pain swallowing the soul’s core laced with betrayal marks dug so deep within the inhaled shattered blame barley serving sorrow's blade leaving empty holes full of nothing but trapped tears
Can the ocean really get flooded?. when the ocean in my brain gets flooded ......
my thoughts are tangled up in the tornado twisting and turning in my head surrounding my brain that fight through the tossing thoughts, emotions and feelings that my lips may have trouble speaking my pen is the oar I use to pull my drowning soul out from the troubles waters
The ship wreck of words sail through the rough thinking waters running fast causing a whirlpool headache as they fight pushing and clawing at my brain walls yet surviving thoughts that were able to brake free from the storm of depression they smudge a trail through the dripping wet ink falling from my oar of a writing pen dragging behind the clustering drift wood of lost words smearing through the lines of the solid land of paper
my brain calms down a bit to inspect the rest stop of provided free range of open writing space clearing the way for all the injured broken pieces of memories and lost thoughts that were still floating behind the mind is trying to stay focus by thinking, searching for any surviving notions or ideas that hangs there on the tip of my tongue
tossing out the remembering lifesavers to pull in other surfacing thoughts that wants and need to be revived from the fallen debris clustered crews of gathered thoughts form as my pen holds the ink of hope and inspiration dragging my down confused depressed soul to safety by writing my trapped untold story
ink its flowing through the valleys of paper marking detailing the saved unspoken words freed from the clutches of depressions prison my brain can now release its story through my scrawling pen that I hold in my writing hand
There are always traps of frustration, confusion and depression; which is the worse pitfall of them all the war from the thinking process is never over preparing for their battle I take the action to grab the already loaded weapon for writing; the "INK PEN"
kicked the bucket down the hill what should I do next? I have no clue... maybe I should find Jack for your Jill or Jill can find Jack for me ....I'm feeling a bit lonely...