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5.8k · Apr 2015
through cloudy skies (Haiku)
Angie S Apr 2015
For lack of the sun
The yellow flowers became
The light of today
Today is quite cloudy, but I saw the sun kiss the ground
3.5k · May 2015
Angie S May 2015
You stomp on the glass floor
And when it shatters and you fall through
You point at me
3.1k · Dec 2015
i cant afford not to care.
Angie S Dec 2015
Once upon a time, I knew you.
Innocent, alone, quiet, but it all seemed like
A bad case of deja vu.
You knew me once, twice, thrice...
I knew,
You have the power to make our world
Or destroy it.
Despite this, I faithfully
Maintained the only promise I've ever made.

Once upon a time I felt the sun
Kiss my face and the wild breeze
Tame my hurting soul.

But now, I only feel the present.
All I know now is the emptiness
Of having everything torn away
From you.
This emptiness you brought me--
Let me repay it
As many times as you will allow me.

Or until
We return
To once upon a time.
this is a spoilery poem.
i've been intensely obsessed with undertale, this is my second undertale poem i've posted here.
this is about a troubled guy who likes to drink ketchup and tell funny jokes. and never makes promises he can't keep
2.7k · Nov 2015
Angie S Nov 2015
is the life of one person
worth a family's freedom?
is the life of seven people
worth a kingdom's liberation?

after a life was stolen from me,
i deemed this to be proper payment.
but after stealing six lives,
i suddenly have found myself
hesitant to take a single step further.

you long for home, so you have journeyed this far.
we have longed for something akin to a new home.

but the look in your eyes say,
even if it meant you could see your family again,
you would not steal another life.

so then, why have i carried on this long,
pushing along this false sense of righteousness
i've been playing undertale lately. if you haven't seen/played a full playthrough of this game this poem is actually spoilery.
but i just felt like putting something together, this isn't really a good poem imo.
if you have no intentions of playing/watching undertale... this is a story about a king
2.7k · Apr 2015
Angie S Apr 2015
you’re my cup of coffee at 6:45 AM
smell dancing like incense in the middle of pooja
warm as the sun peaking out shyly behind the horizon
richly sweet caramelized sugar pearly cream
and bitter like the small things i dont know about you yet.

but when you touch my lips
the bitterness i can swallow with the sweet
and the sweet i savor with every taste bud on my tongue.

before i head out the door at 7 AM
i kiss your forehead and wash out the emptied mug
but the taste of cappucino lingers at the corners of my mouth
as i wave good day to you.

and when i return at 5:30 PM
limbs pathetically sown on with prayers
empty rivers landfills of worry time ticking like a heartbeat
the aroma wafts around me again like a scarf.

in your embrace
i fall asleep with dreams of whipped clouds and
love at the cafe.
today's brew is magic
2.4k · Dec 2014
nebula fantasia
Angie S Dec 2014
The stars glare at me
As I lie awake on my bed,
Imagining constellations on my ceiling
Truth be told,
I imagine I am gazing up at them,
But they are too stubborn
They wouldn't listen if I told them

Their twinkle in the night sky
Looked like a sparkling waterfall
Their loyalty to the night
Is unrivaled in the universe
Their blazing bodies
Bring light in the darkness
Their presence every night
Gives me ease and I sleep well

Nibbling on the corner of
A fluffy planetary nebula,
Swimming with a cluster
Of dreaming asteroids
I imagine all these things
Happening above my head
Among the stars is where I belong, because I always find my mind traveling there.
2.1k · Nov 2016
Z-Move Chant!!
Angie S Nov 2016
Under the burning sun, we run,
our brave hearts beating as one.
Beneath the shining moon we rest,
and in the morning we're at our best.
Together in battle we fight to win;
we'll beat the odds no matter how thin.
You're my partner through and through--
so let's use our ultimate Z-Move!
Who else is playing Pokemon Sun and Moon?!?! Don't spoil anything for me though haha I'm not even close to beating Sun yet... but do tell me what starter you chose!!!!! I'm team rowlet myself :^)
1.9k · May 2017
The things I carry
Angie S May 2017
I carry the clothes on my body–
a plain t-shirt and sweater leggings–
attempting to stay warm and keep cool.
I carry my backpack,
my heavy, heavy backpack,
to carry the things I can’t carry in my arms…
my books, pencils, papers, and keys.
In my arms I sometimes carry more books,
sometimes a cup of chai, and sometimes, nothing. Sometimes
I wish I carried a little bit more time;
then I could carry the things I’ve left behind.

I carry all the parts of me simultaneously, and I am full now.
I carry my eyes, for without them, my path would be blurred,
and I would be ignorant.
I carry my ears to hear music and dissonance and
I carry a heart to feel the soundwaves and make sense of them.
I carry my nose to hold the sweetness of a flower in my lungs,
and skin to caress their soft petals,
without plucking them.
When I carry nothing, I sleep,
and in my dreams, I carry the clouds and the stars beyond them.
From there I may see the things I have yet to carry.

I carry my own weight across the populated Earth.
I carry my own gravity and the light of the sun.
I carry the stars from my dreams, and from them,
I create constellations in broad daylight.
I carry my heart.
I carry the soundwaves of voices like
space nymphs, singing songs I want to remember.
I carry the sight of people coming closer and drifting further from me,
escaping and re-entering my orbit,
an arm-length or a light-year away.
I carry their images and sometimes,
I reach for their silhouettes and I try to feel their thoughts.

I carry my heart and it is full.
My heart is filled with emotion,
and my emotions are the Earth’s turbulent winds
across a golden, sun-kissed field and
the sound of a waterfall crashing into
a pool of water at the bottom of the valley, and
equally the eye of the storm in which
the world is a spinning oblivion,
but here, it is quiet.
My heart is the recollection of times past
in a yellowed, well-worn tome awaiting a reader and
the diary of someone whose story begs to be forgotten.
My heart beats for someone to understand its journey,
but it longs to understand what it beats for.
I carry the silence and the music alike;
I carry the Earth and all its wonders.
If I let go of all the things I carried, I would miss the weight on my shoulders.
This is one of the last poems I've written for high school. My final day is this Friday, and I have my graduation ceremony next week :)
1.8k · Aug 2015
Angie S Aug 2015
life isnt always the frosting on the cupcake
sometimes its the wrapper and
belongs in the trash
and yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that...
1.8k · Oct 2014
Finding Our X Intercepts
Angie S Oct 2014
Our love was like a negative parabola;
Where we thought we found happiness
We only found the vertex

And then it came crashi ng d o w   n
This isn't about anyone in particular. I'm procrastinating on Algebra homework.
1.7k · Dec 2014
starving for real food
Angie S Dec 2014
tasteful lies
on a silver platter, underneath a shining dome
i await dinner with drooling eyes
I hope everyone eats well tonight.
1.5k · Oct 2014
A Selfish Rabbit
Angie S Oct 2014
So in the end
Night fell upon me
And swallowed me whole
And left nothing behind
But my fallen tears
No one was there
To watch me fall,
Drown in my eternal nothings

So in the end
Night fell upon us
And you were left with
My smiling face, the one
I forgot, I left with you
Because I love you so
And didn't want to trouble you
Any more than I already have

So in the end
Night fell upon this city
And to everyone that had ever
Laid their eyes upon
My matter, matter with no reason
I give my memory
Take it and breathe it in
Let it fill you with life
And then exhale

So in the end
Night fell upon me
And swallowed me whole
And left nothing behind
But a sad, selfish rabbit
Who loved being alone
And yet despised being lonely
They say that rabbits can die of loneliness.
1.5k · May 2015
a step closer to completed
Angie S May 2015
i feel like a shredded jigsaw puzzle
the unsolvable rubik's cube
abstract art by the picasso of melancholy
who couldnt find a way out of his blue period
melted ice cream sundae and cherry
sitting forgotten rotting on hot summer concrete

the common man of the cubicle
would eat people like me for dinner
and he would enjoy it too with his
overly happy son and his
overly happy wife and his
overly happy purebred golden trophy dog
i sit at the middle of the table
the eye of attention and
stuffed by an apple to keep me shut and
they stare at me ready to tear me apart and
for dressing tonight they will eat my tears

cover me in blankets and lay me down in bed
i will slip away for the night and
in the morning hopefully
i will be a step closer to completed
Angie S Nov 2015
A million miles over
Cities toppled over like broken glass,
Raging waters with pointed teeth,
Familiar hands lost to the journey,
And hardships nobody on this
Seemingly godforsaken planet
Deserves to endure,
And at the very end of the very last mile,
What right do you have to say,
"You are not welcome here"?
Have you seen the fire that burns
In the orphaned children?
Have you seen the blood of your loved ones
Spilled across your feet?
Have you faced death in the eyes and
Felt his presence in your shadows?
Or have you instead,
Thought the valiantly wandering refugees as
A threat to your quiet life?
I ******* dare you
To look their people in the eyes and tell them
They could be suspected of being terrorists.
I suspect them of being nothing but humans,
Because assuming the worst from not one, but
An entire population--
What kind of logic is that? And
What kind of heart do you have that cannot see
People in need? People that need a place,
If even temporarily, to call home?
What kind of heart is it that you lack,
That cannot find the good in people to
Cherish as if you knew their name? And
What kind of heart is it that you lack,
That cannot open your own eyes to the dystopia that is our world
And try to help at least
Wandering soul
I learned today that certain states in the US will be accepting Syrian refugees to settle. And mine... will not. (And then a girl mentioned that many refugees have been suspected of being tied to terrorism.) And honestly? People are important. Their lives and stories are important. They have gone through harder times than I probably ever will in my lifetime... the least we can do is provide them a safe place to stay.
(That's my two cents on this topic.)
1.4k · Feb 2015
Endangered Species
Angie S Feb 2015
Today, I am among the half-dead again
Wandering the halls with a gaze that could disintegrate the sun
The world around me is painted in an elephant grey
But this safari feels empty and yet so congested
With a smile that’s been sloppily and gruelingly painted on,
I face the challenges of everyday life once more

Half of me is tuned in to the things around me,
Scribbling words and deciphering the text at a snail’s pace
But the other half is still dreaming,
Waging war against the strongest mages of our time
Or drowning among a school of clownfish
Either way I’m not here and I’m begging to be free
Today, I am among the half-dead again

I imagine that someday a dragon will take me away
This may simply be my dreaming side taking over again
But if I said it could burn away all my worries,
Wouldn’t you wish for that as well?
I would hop onto its scaly back and point towards the sky,
Chanting as if I had been rehearsing for this moment,
“Anywhere is fine, as long as it’s not here”

But until then, I am drenched in my own rain
And the smile has run off with it, off to somewhere far away
Today, I am among the half-dead again
With weights tightly chained to my fingers
I’m dragging my thoughts along with my spirit

I’m a little bit tired but maybe if I wait, tomorrow will be a much better day
The air here is saturated with yawns and negativity.
I wrote this about a week ago. I would like feedback on this please!! I'm going to send this in to a yearly poetry book at my school after I do revisions, so please tell me what I can improve on!
1.4k · Oct 2015
Lisa II
Angie S Oct 2015
Losing herself to the roar of a motorcycle with wings she questions;
Are you going to destroy the world?
Understandably all he did was laugh in response, but the
Girl learned to laugh as well. And she
Held on a little tighter.
"As if anyone would just take me away when I wanted them to."

(This is also about Lisa Mishima from znt, but after episode four.)
1.4k · Jan 2018
Angie S Jan 2018
you are a universe, love
let me be just one star
in your infinite galaxies
this one's for you, too. i almost hoped that i'd run out of words for you, but alas
Angie S May 2015
The future is undone
By the beasts of the past
it almost seems like smiles come and go and mistakes are forever, wouldn't it be wonderful if it were the other way around?
1.3k · Feb 2015
The Thing About Remembering
Angie S Feb 2015
She’s drilled holes into her temples
And tried to pull out memories with her bitten fingernails
She’s recited everything she’s said and heard
Into a ***** toilet bowl every night on the hour
She’s weeped a million times over
From her eyes and from her wrists,
But the thing about remembering is that you don’t forget--

And now the scars left over can’t scab
The phrases are written in morse code on her body
Her will has been evicted along with her soul
And she’s become zombified, a living piece of parchment
From which she’s tried so hard to erase the words
But the thing about remembering is that you don’t forget--

The sound of a voice tears hers apart every day
And the words they form she’s come to despise
So she’s taken up book burning,
Making every letter ever aimed at her head run for their lives
She’s even made her own name take off, and now she’s
Desperately pleading for eternal silence to be her savior
But the thing about remembering is that you don’t forget--

So when you see her in the hallways, she pretends she’s invisible,
Pretending that her presence won’t have any meaning to it,
Pretending that she’s not important enough to be noticed,
Because her motto is fake it
Until you make it.
But the thing about remembering is that you don’t forget--

And the ones that have told her she’s not good enough,
That she’s better off dead and no one will care,
They laugh at her and then they forget.
They come back around the next day to laugh at the same joke.
She looks in the mirror and tries to laugh like them,
Laughing so much, she begins to cry,
But the thing about remembering is that you don’t forget--

So when you hug her and tell her it’s alright,
That you love her and tell her she’s worth more than life itself,
Sing it to her, so she won’t forget.
The thing about remembering is surviving with painful memories, and cherishing wonderful ones.
This poem, believe it or not, is ALSO one I'm considering entering for the school poetry book as well. Please leave feedback on this one as well as the other two I posted before this! Thanks!
1.2k · Mar 2015
Dear Isabel (10 w)
Angie S Mar 2015
Your name is as lovely
As the memories we made.
]I wrote this about an old friend of mine. She was pretty strange and maybe the right thing to think about our friendship was that it was better off this way, but for some reason I always look back at it fondly and sometimes even with a sense of yearning.
1.2k · Oct 2015
horizon line
Angie S Oct 2015
sometime i suppose
God created the horizon line at the end of the world
and He made it so that
we were unable to see past it

but what He did not know
was that we are dreamers, us poets
we saw the horizon line and chased after it;
when we got tired, we sat down and
dreamt of life beyond the horizon
and we put it to words,
music to our tongues and
sweet love to our world
i am stressed out have a poem, i churned it out in 2-3 minutes and i'm officially calling this one a wip
1.2k · Oct 2014
Angie S Oct 2014
I gave you a warm meal
   You called me nice
I gave you a roof for the night
   You called me kind
I gave you a bed and a fleece blanket
   You called me compassionate
I gave you a set of clean clothes
   You called me thoughtful
I gave you money for necessities
   You called me generous

You said thank you
I called you a saint
Those real gifts in life.
1.2k · May 2015
an open letter to 11:11
Angie S May 2015
tomorrow i want to steal someone's heart
and i want them to steal mine
i want to trace constellations on their palm with my finger,
paint symphonies out of heart tickling laughter,
dance a slow waltz with our lips intertwined,
and gaze into their eyes and see a universe

dear 11:11
tomorrow i want to be in love
i want to feel the tip of it with my toes
let it crawl up my leg and body
and wrap me up from the inside out
sink into oblivious bliss

today i spent alone but
tomorrow i want love to knock at my door
sing me a tune i know by heart
and let me hum the harmonies
tear up the clouds and let the sun rain down
i felt like this a while ago and still do, i think. anyways, this poem is pretty raw and i'm probably going to post a revised version later. but for now, enjoy the thoughts i have and keep to myself.
1.2k · Oct 2014
Spring's Love
Angie S Oct 2014
When I hear your voice
The flowers come into bloom
And sing a spring song

When your echo fades
The snow settles on my heart
And I hibernate
I felt inspired after listening to a beautiful choir.
1.1k · Apr 2015
Before you drifted away
Angie S Apr 2015
When will the day come
That I can call you
A distant memory

It's the nickname you've given me
While forgetting all the other names
That you'd whisper to me

As we were holding hands
And laughing at the clouds above us,
Drifting away as if they hadn't heard

Now I wish those clouds would've stopped moving
So we could've spent our little eternity together
And if not that much, I wish
You could push my hair behind my ear in the wind
And if not that much, I wish
That you could have at least wiped my tears away

Before you drifted away, too
((not about me. i simply wrote it.))
1.1k · Jun 2015
At 2 am broken thoughts.
Angie S Jun 2015
At 2 am broken thoughts
Seeped out of my skin and soaked the bedsheets
At 1 am writing diary entries
Because happy things happened and
Forgetting sadness requires remembering happiness
At 12 am on the computer
Wasting away life for a lack of motivation,
Becoming motivated,
And then self loathing for wasting life
At 11 pm drawing a picture
(Because someone else wanted it)

The things i really want
They are scattered in between the carpet
And peel and tear at my feet when i walk across it
At 2 am im a broken thought
Its 2 am and i feel really ****** (again)
but i found myself writing again so thats a start
1.1k · Nov 2014
My Favorite Song
Angie S Nov 2014
Someone save me from
Falling into the rhythm
Because surely
I will lose myself in it
Let me drown into every note
1.0k · Oct 2014
Don't Forget Them
Angie S Oct 2014
The ones that were left behind
Began to kick at my shins
And they bled and bruised blue
But all that fell were tears
And my apologies

Forgive me, I've been a stranger
But deep down I've drowned
And coming up for air is a hassle
But I'm still watching from afar

Please wait for me
Please don't look at me like that
Please hear me when I say these
Two words, tumbling out like
******* birds, thirsty for the taste
Of cotton candy clouds

And please accept me,
Those not-so-forgotten friends of mine
Inspired from a terrible dream I had a while ago, and what it told me.
1.0k · Nov 2014
Angie S Nov 2014
Two broken hearts
When they come together
They bleed out
From their fresh scabs
And they turn black
As the warmth from them
Trickles down
Dripping scarlet
Into our thoughts
And into our sanity
And we look down
At our intertwined fingers

As we scratch the backs of
Each other's heavily scarred hands
A murmur, our words
So porous and empty
They're carried away by the wind

"I love you"
"What if... two wrongs just made one huge wrong?" The basis of this poem.

I didn't write this about any of my personal experiences. If it makes you feel better or if you enjoyed reading it, that's all that matters.

I didn't even edit this poem or anything like that... This poem is really raw, to put it, and I'll keep it that way.
1.0k · May 2017
5 lies I was told as a kid.
Angie S May 2017
5 lies I used to believe as a kid.
1) Santa Claus is real, and he visits every child’s home on Christmas Eve,
Delivering presents all around the world.
I guess he is real, though in my eyes he only comes to
One house and prefers Indian food to cookies.
2) Fast food is bad for you.
I mean, it’s definitely bad for your body,
But it is like a bowl of blended greens
For your soul.
It’s a spiritual experience to get your food through a window in a bag.
3) I’m not good at the flute.
See, one day in the 5th grade we played with some
Band instruments and got stickers if we did well.
I did not get the flute sticker and I supposed it was a
Sign from God telling me the flute life wasn’t my life.
I guess I forgot that effort builds talent,
And practice makes perfect; everyone has potential.
4) Everyone is as they seem.
I see all the colors in the human rainbow but underneath that layer
I guess some people hide behind brittle plastic.
I wonder how their blood flows through their veins,
And I wonder if their blood runs warm or if it’s a cold cry for help.
5) The world is innocent.
As a kid I thought the Earth loved everyone equally,
Like 1) Santa Claus is real and 2) Fast food is bad for you
But turns out that once you put on a few more years,
Grow a foot or two, gain some weight on you,
The world reveals itself to be a battlefield, and you realize the truth.
Things like 3) Everyone’s not good at something whether it’s
The flute or this constant battle for confidence against society.
Things like 4) Everyone has a plastic layer of some kind whether it
Conceals their vile warfare or thinly protects them from
3) The negative thoughts that tie people into knots.
These truths against these lies make me wonder if
1) Santa Claus ever really existed,
Even in the minds of children;
But between nice and naughty there may be hope yet
Before the Earth falls into coal.
innocence is so so fleeting in a world like ours.
this is a spoken word piece i performed on Apr. 21st. it got a lot of laughs at the beginning, which was perfect! i like how it's slightly personal, but more broad at the end.
991 · Nov 2015
Angie S Nov 2015
your flowers are beginning to bloom
in my heart,
and i know that i shouldn't fall in love
because weeding it out will be too hard,
but alas,
your flowers are too colorful
and aromatic and
i can't help but
lose myself in you.
and i want so desperately to
brush your petals softly with my fingers,
but i almost would rather
watch from afar
in fear of ruining the entire garden.

and i don't know if you're much for gardening
but if my flowers sprout within you,
let me know
i read a buttload of shoujo manga today (hirunaka no ryuusei!) and im in that kind of mood
but this love letter is addressed to nobody
Angie S Oct 2015
You are a starchild, born from
the heavenly bodies and all
their celestial love affairs; You
twinkled among the stars and
owned the universe with them,
and yet you came down to
Earth and instead took over
my heart. And you say you
don't remember any of that as
we lay under the planets, but
when I look into your eyes I
see a galaxy. You shine with
a supernatural sort of radiance
that I can't believe to be earthly
and I am awful at science but
when you speak to me, astronomy
makes sense. The universe makes
sense. And you say that, just as
birds and clouds and humans
die, stars eventually die out too.
Our time is short but, darling, we
are infinite. We've become our own
universe. We threw away our mortal
selves when we realized this and
embraced this fleeting moment we
have together; stories never die and
neither will ours. And you say you
want to take me to your place,
among the asteroids and nightlights.
Yesterday I would have said, "No,
I'm afraid of the dark" but mapping
the unknowns of outer space with you,
surely we will become constellations.
And besides, I already am in heaven;
after all, that is what love is, isn't it?
am i good at writing love poems? do you think i could woo someone with my stellar metaphors?
(forgive my punnery)
958 · Dec 2014
For You
Angie S Dec 2014
Your tears
Are glass
And you
Are a diamond
Please don't cry. Your tears, your sadness, it all doesn't deserve to stain your smiling face.
957 · Nov 2017
Angie S Nov 2017
i wonder what your name
looks like in my handwriting
if i weren't as shy as i am
i would have overcrowded a notebook
just of the way your i's are dotted
what frightens me is that
your hands don't agonize over my name
don't at least motion the symbols in the air
much less write them
and i wonder what my name
looks like in your handwriting
if you curl the e the same i would curl yours
or if you bestow your personal touch upon it
either way it would look beautiful
i would adore any name you'd write for me

i wonder what your name
looks like in my handwriting
but honestly i worry that
i cannot do it justice
wrote this one in 5 minutes. i'm procrastinating and i'm stressed and insert more negative things here. worst of all, i am still chased by one thought, and i worry i cannot do anything about it.

i'm nervous to write it, but if i had to write just one thing for the rest of my life, it would be those letters that make up your name.
929 · Dec 2017
Angie S Dec 2017
today i wore a new perfume
with the warmth of vanilla
and a hint of lavender
i wonder, if i were to
hold you close to me,
would you find it comforting

or should i just tell you
where i got the perfume?
originally written nov. 26.
more details about this poetry project of mine? i'm putting all of my november poetry (30 poems) with revisions as well as a lil note by me into a .pdf or something to be downloadable for free. also considering printing a few copies and selling them at a low cost to people irl.
no set date for release yet! though i hope to get very close if not finished by the end of the month?
Angie S Nov 2015
a lovely girl
must be proper
but absurdity lies
in between her precious
smile and her breathtaking
poise and her scrumptious
hips and her plump
******* and her delightful
porcelain doll legs and arms

if you consider perfection worthy
of your eye then you may as well embrace
sorrowful nights in solitude.
at this point, you're enthralled by
mere fantasy, an abominable image
of the real life woman.

the loveliest of maidens resides in
every single girl
if you have not been taught that yet,
what are your flawless dreams but
simply dreams
the girl i described in the first stanza is not real.
the ones i described in the first two lines of the last stanza are real. every last one
893 · Apr 2015
Eyes Wide Open
Angie S Apr 2015
The first time I opened my eyes I learned that the world
Wasn’t just the world I saw in my mother’s womb.
Up until then I was just feeding off of another person,
But I was growing stronger for that very moment.
Until then I was sheltered off from the real world to develop
In a safe haven.
The first time I felt the outside air I learned that the world
Wasn’t warm and protecting like my mother was.
But you see, even though I was just a newborn baby,
The youngest person on the planet for a split second,
I could breathe on my own. I could swallow on my own.
And the first time I tasted my first bit of food,
I tasted a whole ‘nother world dancing a tango with my tongue.
She was a bit clumsy on her feet but we had fun anyways,
And soon enough I grew accustomed to this world as well.
Then came the first time I stood on my own two feet.
It was one small step into yet another new world,
And one big leap into understanding the one world that was made up
Of all these littler worlds.
I could run from one universe to another by myself,
And it sounds a bit scary, but I got used to this after a while.
From there came the biggest eye opener of my life,
When I learned to read and write.
It was from those roots, the ones my mother gave me as she read me bedtime stories,
That I acquired the key to a myriad of other worlds.
It was from there that I learned how to open my eyes every day
And see a brand new world to devour with my insatiable curiosity.
All I ever wanted was in front of me. All I had to do was open my eyes.
Kind of a WIP. I'll probably just leave it as is though and move on to more poems. That's just how it goes sometimes...
891 · Jul 2015
nonsense about flowers
Angie S Jul 2015
what a beautiful thing it is to have loved,
before winters demise and thoroughly through spring
but before i plucked petals from the flower-- i already knew
and yanked the flower from its roots
because you trampled all over them. My prince,
you trampled over them as i held you at the
summit of mount olympus.
i opted to put that very flower in my hair and
ran away singing,
what a beautiful thing it is to have loved.
i looked up prompts and found a line to start/end my poem with.
i havent had a crush in a while. hmm
880 · Apr 2016
daydreamer's playground
Angie S Apr 2016
i close my eyes . . .
your lips brush mine like a dream
your fingertips lay on mine
as a musician's before he plays a masterpiece
a whisper wafts around my hair,
toying with it lovingly
i suppose that's when i realized
reality is a daydreamer's playground
and you are my best friend.
we hold hands like
we don't want to let go but even if we do we never really do
and we run like our legs are trying to catch up
with our heartbeats--
i always run a little faster with you.
music sounds like your laughter over the phone at 2 am
and your footsteps beside me
and your endless ways of saying "i love you."
you are my greatest symphonies and my
most quiet hums.
you are an unbreakable pinky promise.
you are a dream and you are
all the stars and constellations that adorn my night sky
wrote this in ~15 minutes?
lately people have been so so nice to me. nothing much has changed in my life but the people around me are just being so kind to me i can't help but smile now. nothing has changed but everything has changed. i can only hope it sticks around a little longer.
with that came an idea for a poem. love poems are fun to write, even if you don't have anyone to address them to.
871 · Mar 2016
Angie S Mar 2016
a letter is just a piece of paper
and ink is just a mess if it falls off a table
these are incredibly simple things but
i want to make them special
and special is a very broad term but
i mean as special as that burning, flaming desire to
give other people our entire lives worth of special

so if i shape the mess into words
and i craft the paper into a message
could you understand what special truly means to me
could you realize it encompasses all that you are
and could you hold me the way
pieces of paper soak up ink and
symbols soak up meaning and
romantic daydreamers soak up beautiful fantasies

with this burning, flaming desire i’ve lit the candlestick at both ends
crafting carefully the contents of my heart
into this letter for you.
and in calligraphy, too.
because i want to shape the ink to fit
the curves of your lips when you smile
and the creases of the paper to bend
your heart into knots like mine,
and you could imagine your favorite word
in my handwriting
and sometimes the meaning of special will be me
just as much as it is you
revised version of "i'll learn calligraphy." i've been working a little on this and i think i can't do much else to it but i'm open to tips, as always
866 · Nov 2016
today i need
Angie S Nov 2016
i know i said i'm agnostic.
i've said that for the past 6 years...
but i feel that i've lost it
and today i need a listening ear.
i don't know where i'm going,
and where i've gone doesn't matter.
i rise but then i fall knowing
i'll just end up shattered.
i worry that what i have isn't sufficient.
while others keep a steady pace forward,
i freeze, lose sight of my ambitions,
and i'm locked in a dark corner.
i study, i practice, i study, i practice,
i forget how to relax,
i wish i could fade to blackness,

but i remember to stand tall.
if i stand with good posture,
chin high, i might not fall.
in this world i have to conjure
some hope from somewhere.

i know i said i'm agnostic,
but this is a letter to You.
i am trying to find a place in this world
that i can call mine.
please, grant me the strength to
discover it.
i have no clue what i want to do with my life so im trying to do some of everything i like but other people are going further in their specific areas of interest... and it makes me feel like i'm doing something wrong.
i walked past my mom as she was doing puja this morning and did a quick silent prayer to God about it.
860 · Nov 2014
The American Dream (10 W)
Angie S Nov 2014
As we fight for freedom
We become the American Dream
Stay strong Ferguson.
843 · Mar 2018
she is dissonance
Angie S Mar 2018
a single note slips out of the chord
as the others cling to safe harmony
she turns the soundwaves to crackling lightning
she becomes the tension of a catastrophic earthquake
she pushes the limits of the dam and threatens to flood
she is dissonance
and she will hold out before her resolution
i'm doing music theory homework right now and we're talking about non-chord tones. suspensions and anticipations are the ****.
Angie S Jul 2016
summer sun and bone chilling ice pops
have nothing on the rollercoaster that you are
and ive wanted nothing more than to
hang on as tight as i can
from the stomach dropping incline to the
furious rolling of the car down its tracks
that initial piercing scream as gravity conducts its magic
and the sensation of free falling through its loops and turns
but equally those quiet moments where
the ride slows to a gentle suspension
theres nothing i want more than to
feel those things with you even when
the ride ends
and we have to hold each others sweaty hands
wandering through crowds of amusement tourists in the middle of july
i was using a random tweet generator and one of the phrases in one of the generated tweets was "Im getting more interested in u" and then this poem was born. this poem isn't very good but i needed to get something down
Angie S Dec 2015
the man who lives at the top of the mountain
does not know of the life at the root of his tree.
he needs not strain himself to touch the clouds,
and has never found himself in such a position.
from atop his throne at the summit, he peers
at the world, sitting alongside his feet, and he
snickers. such a man could have a heart of
unwavering ignorance, built by the icy castle
he stands upon. and thus, it was necessary for
Fate to push him off his mighty pedestal . . .

and suddenly, he was not king of the world.
he found that every human
was the same as he, but so vastly varied as well;
their hearts chimed of their own accord,
but together at the same time;
their voices were strong alone and
powerful when congregated;
their eyes met the colors of the rainbow
and found those same colors within themselves;
and the sky was, alas,
too far to reach.
and what, may you ask, did they do?
they have done as you have,
laughing at the patterns of the clouds,
gazing at the messages of the stars,
and determination filled their veins
as they sought to reach the sky in their own ways.
a single mother sends her first child to college;
a doctor manages to save a life;
a couple or more find eternal love;
a single person chooses life over death at the edge of a bridge.

and it was in these ways that the man learned,
his mountain was the flattest plain in the world.
the mountains lived within people, and there
his icy castle gave way to a little bit of
a little determination.
and he gazed at the sky the same way they did.
this was a very quick one. but it's something.
the man learned his place in the world
784 · Mar 2015
the daily struggle
Angie S Mar 2015
the clock ticks past twelve.
a new day comes across the horizon,
and with bags hanging from my eyes,
i laugh and continue working
Because when you're staying up doing your homework, and you see it's past twelve, instead of thinking "it's a brand new day" you laugh at it like it's a joke
780 · Dec 2016
figure skating
Angie S Dec 2016
she reaches out before her,
gazing longingly into the sky,
and draws her arms back to her side.
her chest rises and falls.
her feet begin to push against
the ice and she glides like
a dove riding atop a gentle breeze.
she crosses her steps with elegance and
swiftly flies to the end of her terrain.
as she turns to return,
her knees dip and spring,
propelling her into the air.
her legs cross at her ankles
and she becomes a twisting airplane.
her feet find a landing on her thin blade.
she leans into the center of the rink,
clutching her leg,
and spins with a slow, melodic grace.
as she lowers into a crouch, her tempo rises,
and she becomes a brilliant storm on ice.
again she rises and she strikes a stellar pose, head high--
she tells her audience
the queen has arrived,
and she wears ice skates.
originally written 11/12/16. i emphasized description of the skater in this poem and tried to use metaphors relating to things in the sky. no real deep meaning to this other than just to imagine... speaking of skating, who's watching yuri on ice??
740 · Dec 2015
Angie S Dec 2015
i begin to recognize the smile on my face
and a single rogue thought runs across my mind
looks like, i have to start over now
its finals week im stressed out and tired but im too awkward to pour myself out in a lot of clear words so i like to express myself in a few ambiguous words instead.
737 · Nov 2018
Angie S Nov 2018
i'm afraid that
i'll have all the words
to a love poem in my head
but no one to give them to
i'm rereading my journal right now. i wrote this line on march 27, 2018 after having watched love, simon.

a hopeless romantic poet's biggest fear.
714 · Feb 2016
anxiously the sky trembles
Angie S Feb 2016
in wonderful pieces the sky falls down
while the little girl in the corner
nibbles on the uneven ends of her fingernails
she watches with widened eyes though blurred vision
and her stomach sinks lower and lower
there in the distance stood somebody that told her
she could hold the sky together
the clouds and the sun and the starry night were
completely within her grasp she just needs to reach out she'll be okay
its too far gone in the depths of memories faded for her
to now recall those words of wisdom
rather she continues to rock gently and shake nervously
because what is she to do? the sky is falling apart
in wonderful, wonderful pieces
i have had writer's block for an unimaginable amount of time and i'm back with a new sense of anxiety and instability and i feel as if the sky is falling down
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