Camaury Robinson: Favorites

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

Theia Gwen

To be loved by a writer
Is to be immortalized
You will live on forever in her writing
Your quirks,
Your ideas,
Your insecurities,
Writers notice everything
And we never forget
You might catch her smiling at you
For what seems like no reason at all
But she's just trying to describe
The exact color of your eyes

To be loved by a writer
Is to have your entire relationship in written word
All you have to do is read and re-live everything again
Your first kiss,
Your first fight,
Your first date
Nostalgic memories in chronological order
And you may even learn something you never knew
Since everything will be in her point of view

To be loved by a writer
Is to see her frustration
Because she wishes she could be an artist
Since no words serve you justice
She wishes she could just paint a picture
And then they would understand
Because no amount of words could perfectly depict
Your hair sticking up,
Your abundance of freckles,
You wearing glasses
She gets upset when she thinks
She'll never fully portray all the things you say and do
But she'll never run out of ways to say "I love you"

To be loved by a writer
Is to be eternal
And to never fully disappear
And no matter what, she'll see you everywhere
Even when she opens her mind and escapes reality
Because she is the writer
And you are her writing
For you own her heart
From which her words flow

I'll probably edit this one later. I was inspired by 'A Dedication' by Lang Leav. Also inspired by my Nicholas, who indeed, looks very dashing in glasses.

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

To Be A Writer

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

pluie d'été

To Be A Writer

to be a writer
smother your
racing thoughts
until they break through
their breath
unable to be extinguished
by your doubting fear

to be a writer
is to stay awake
until the sun starts
breaking apart the darkness
at the edge
of the earth's seam
with an full page
of words
tangled
that you won't be able to read
when you wake up
at noon

to be a writer
is to think
not only for yourself
but for every character
locked in your soul
trying to reach out
for their thoughts
and words
to stretch across
the lined
expanse

to be a writer
is to think
for everyone else
you know
and form thought bubbles
and back stories
for the strangers
you meet on the street

to be a writer
is to see the beautiful
in the ugly
whispering
and the ugly
in the beautiful
screaming

to be a writer
is to become hypnotized
by the parts
of the people
we smile at
their eyes
the way their fingertips
trace the rim
of their coffee cup

to be a writer
is to dream
and remember
to dream
and forget
everything
we meant to say

to be a writer
is to read
a billion words
of a million
others
to memorize
the curve
of the pen in a sentence
the neat font
in a book
holding
so much emptiness
that it fills you

to be a writer
is to choose to drown
in doubt
because all the stories
you read
and right-
even if they aren't
real life-
aren't always nice

to be a writer
is to love words
and to hate them
love him
or her
and to hate
him
or her
found in seperate others
a cycle
of their ghosts
haunting us
like the time
slipping away
too fast

to be a writer
is to choose drowning
over living
just to see
the sunlight
flickering through the waves
and feel how the shadows
it's absence feels across your skin

to be a writer
is to always begin
but sometimes
leave the end

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

Wishing for Whiskey

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

Adam Wallace

Wishing for Whiskey

I know it's not easy
to love a man like me
I don't blame you for leaving
I'm just drinking to the way things used to be

I know I told you I'd be different
I know I told you that I'd change
If I'd just poured out the bottle
You'd still be with me today

So I gathered up my things
and I tried to move along
I wished I hadn't done
all those things that I done wrong

I should be wishing you were here
I should be writing you a song
But instead I'm sitting here all alone
Just wishing that my whiskey wasn't gone.

#lost #whiskey #drinking #wishing #lonesome

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

A Poet's Heart

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

ryn

A Poet's Heart

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
        genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...

.
Dedicated to all of you...

If you're reading this...
This is for you...
.

#allofyou #hellopoetry107 #apoetsheart #allofus

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

Insanity

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

Star Gazer

Insanity

Maybe she and I,
We're not so alike,
When I saw the ground,
She saw the sky.
When I was happy
She wanted to cry.
Maybe we weren't meant to find each other
Or we weren't meant to be lovers.
The world is full of maybes,
But there's one thing that I can't deny,
even though we weren't alike,
I just wish she was by my side.
Maybe insanity, is trying to forget
someone you wish to never forget.

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

Tuesday, last.

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

HT

Tuesday, last.

You stand at the top of the stair
Being pulled in directions, both
Your voice speaks
But I Hear your eyes
The beating of your soul
Lost some where
Between wanting to rip
The flesh from my bones
And laying me down in
Surrender to human desire.
My skin crawls with sweat
That has not broken the surface tension
We flow
Like bodies of water
Mountains between us
I trembled at your touch
And you relieved
Every pain
I brought you
The smile
Again
You came to save us both
But only
Reminded us what was evermore; unforgiven
But we make chit chat
About what is expected
Our guilt and lust battle
In subconscious oblivion
Though dense enough for the
Angels to walk upon
You
Trying to run
And trying to stay
I don’t plead nor
Will I beg
Yet in the hearts abyss
You have left me to bleed
I didn’t ask about your dreams
The nightmares of me.
Us.
You walk in mine
You stalk my heart
when I start to feel free
Im sure
Its mutual.
You came at my call
and stood here
In the darkest hall
You haven’t been here for a while
My heart rejoiced
To hear
You know
Its not the time
And won’t be
Till
The blood clots
And this numbness
Has taken over me
We.
And there you stand readied to leave
Hand twisting anxiously
In dark hair
Smile going on
For a century
How does the moon
Implore, her love
The glorious sun
To stay
In eclipse
When she knows
The entire world would suffer
I turn as you leave
We make light hearted joke
To hide the fight
Deep in our minds
As we break free
To wander alone through this
Galaxy.

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

Leaves

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

Peter Cullen

Leaves

Some leaves fall before their time,
others falling with this rhyme.
Synchronized inside my mind,
everything at one with time.

The breeze which sweeps the forest floor,
the will, the want, the joy of more.
The knowing, that what's right will lead,
to everything we really need.

Like the seasons, passing on.
Each with reason.
Each with song.
Words lost with the fading light,
as me and you walk through the night.

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

Can we ?

Aug 2016 Camaury Robinson

Carolin

Can we ?

Can we live in a forest ?

Go to a place where the
paths don't change.

Kiss under the shade of
trees and make out in
piles of leaves.

Can we sleep on gentle
earth's damp grounds ?

Drink our juice out of fresh
fruits.

And build a home from roots
and tree branches.

I got a lot planned for me
and you.

And I love you. It's true
I do.

You can adjust wild flowers
in my beard.

And i'll put dandelions and
weeds in your hair.

They'll look prettier than
clamshells i swear.

You can brush my hair with
your little hands.

And we'll make clothes out
of leaves and plants.

Give it a thought my dear.

And tell me if we can live
in a forest or a place that's
at least a little near* ~