there is something special
about the poetry of children,
the art of little girls
half remembered stories
spilling over from a past life
soon to be forgotten
scrawled on lined paper
decorated with stickers
scraps of fabric
and fallen leaves
a grin missing teeth says
"how do you spell angel?"
all innocence, sugary innocence,
but there is none here
this one draws devils
dancing at night
where have you been?
what have they shown you?
why do you already know
a hundred ways to use the colour red,
smashing markers and crayons
until they bleed and scream?
To fill a void of broken glass
And consumed my past.
Tried to bury it under a pile of ash
And suffocate it with a wiry cord
To no avail!
Because, like a restless panther,
Some unconcealable part of me roared
With an unquenchable thirst
I looked at the panther’s golden eyes,
At its slender, shadow-like presence
Wondering what it could so despise
About my very essence
I stared, mesmerized
At a row of white, perfect daggers
That had, no doubt, heard many fearful cries
So I ran, but not fast enough-
For the panther ran faster
Called out my bluff
And leaped to cover me
With a curtain of ink-black fur.
I froze in place,
Flames seizing my lungs,
Having lost the chase -
- And then there was silence.
I lost my daydreams for a while.
The bounce, the charm, the myrth, the smile.
All locked within the sleeping child
That I buried deep in the wild.
And yet, my fantasies resumed.
The undecayed body exhumed.
My girlhood rose from her repose,
The bright side of life to expose.
Perhaps, upon reflection, I may be getting a little better?
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
Catch a calling pigeon,
Tell him what you really think.
Express your deepest statements
To the rim of your last drink.
'Cause society will tell you
That your voice is not worth hearing,
As they cast their vicious judgments,
With their pompous faces leering.
Release your thoughts into the silent night,
Or share them on a small poetry site.
Intellectual conformity is promised:
We learned to lie without being dishonest.
How does one share an opinion that isn't held by either the majority or the loud minority?
My broken stride,
A step too far,
My leg swung wide.
Just one mistake.
I reel in place.
My heart beats ache.
Come crashing through
The floor till I
Collapse on you.
Confiding in people is so hard. I hate letting them see me like this.
I flail around,
Not backing down.
In and out,
I scream and shout.
Self-aimed, the blow:
Plunge down below.
My line is cut.
The book slams shut.
Don'tcha just want to end it all? I know I won't, but isn't it tempting?