Black and White
Black and White
Black and White
Those seem to be dull colors
Colours suggests something
The color that proliferates
this
entire
website
says something to me
this place
is a mask
and this is not
what
it seems like
A place full of poetry
Poetry can have dark meanings too
This place seems dark.

Yes, everything stabbed me in the heart,
gut
core
Everywhere.
It's so ****** painful
I'm not nattering away
No
I will not and
am not
a nuisance who talks tosh.
You killed me.
It killed me.
A bunch of scrawled numbers killed me.
Everything
every ****** thing
is killing me.
Did I not try?
Did I not place my full brain and heart into it?
And why am I getting ready to get my brain chopped off under the falling axe?
Why, oh why
the sullen faces
blood-sworn glares
the rising temperatures in my body
the cold tears
that pierce the very layer of my cheek
What did I do to deserve **** like this?
Came Monday.
Monday blues
with the very lovely scores indeed ?!!
that kicked me out of the list.
Came Tuesday.
Far worse sight.
More numbers.
Numbers determining my barren life
And so will tomorrow come
with much angst
And so do I now cry or die?

A llama mama who is ever so special
A swimmer glides through the water with so much grace
Artistically inclines, genius by birth; slacker by choice
Music.Lit.Bio.Lovely girl whom I very much admire
Strong girl who makes use of every opportunity
Another swimmer with heart and face so lovely
An elephant - the light o' every lil' chat
Candy- words so wise; heart so warm
Another brave girl; lots in common; in every way beautiful
Eloquent speaker  And A Violinist
Another swimmer with such a laugh!
Our dear walking dictionary; never fails to put a smile on my face
Runner and fighter ALL THE WAY
Vettypoop aka my spirit animal
Smiling dolphin
Laughing cheerful pop ****
Artyfarty girl with so much poise and grace
Artyfarty and a swimmer? Ooh la la
Cute and sweet and everything else with a tinge of the kpop
Disciplinarian and nice
1Der with a twinned soul
A cutie pie with a such a heart
Strange girl this one is but I love the way she talks and writes.
Strange laughter and even stranger words you say
Motherly touches
My lovely leader, with such a beautiful core
Craycray, stay craycray bubu
Smiler and such a high toned shriek
You my bestie; my listening ear
Ordinary Me
Meangirl99 at first sight, lovelygirl99 at the second
KimChi such a hard-worker
Another hard worker with a positive glow
A dancer on a note of sarcasm
Heart of gold; Mind of snow
Naughty naughty

so this is my class of 36
every girl
a wonderful light
and this 36 beautiful souls
make up the beautiful beautiful class
of
203
With varying teachers and varying situations,
we have stood by each other
With much faith I have in all of you
Let's soar to the skies
Pull each other
to soar
and
soar
and soar
to heights never known
never reached.
I know we are going to make
2013
our year
203's year to
amaze people like never before.
Prove every teacher we are the awesomest class on earth.
Trust me.
We will.
Every strength and weakness binded together;
203 is going to
ROCK THE HOUSE TONIGHT! :)

Gratitude:
It pays to be kind
It pays to know
that something's not gonna
be there forever
I'm serious

When that lovely lady passed away
this monster ****** all
the life
out of her
I couldn't help but think
why hadn't i treasured you before
Why oh why

So here is my gratitude poem
I love you mummy
For all the things
From sacrificing your sleep and time
To make me a good breakfast
And ironing uniforms
Which you've always hated to do
But did that all for me
So that I would look decent in school
To Staying up with me
To do homework and revision
before terrifying monsters called EXAMS
For kissing me goodnight and
telling me good things about life
Doing so many lovely things
So that I would have a better life
I love you mummy

I love my dad
No matter how much I seem to argue with you
on math or science
I really love you too.
Deep down I really appreciate your help
but you've got to dig deeper to see that
I hope you talk to me more
About your life
It's always been about my life
my studies
my health
my friends
And our talks
never about you
I never known a genius like you.

*****
You are a *******
Really
I wish you were 5 all again
When you didn't have sarcastic comments
And the I-grew-up-already attitude
I love you all the same
You stay up to help your big sis
With her art work
( I **** at art)
Or type for me in tamil
You do great things, girl
And sooner or later
You are gonna be a great young lady
Just like me

I love all my friends
The ones that hurt me
The ones that love me
The ones that like me
All of you gave
me
experiences
words
advice
stories
that I've never known
What is a life without stories?

And lastly,
my grandpa
You were a great man.
You may have died
When I was one
But I'm telling you grandpa
I love you all the same
I remember your wise words
All the famous people who came to
Shower their blessings on me
And your lovely lap
Which I used to take as my personal bathroom
I'll never forget you
You have an indelible place in my heart
You have been my greatest inspiration
and strongest supporter
I love you all the same.

The things I am grateful for
It's an endless list
But I love each and
every single
one all
the same.
I will treasure you better from now on.


I love you.

This morning
my head was filled
with so much
hard
pressured
red sizzling lava
and my body
a volcano to explode
to send so many seismic waves and
create an earthquake through my entire
soul.

Ragged pile of bones
Clawing through the streets
A drop of water, a grain
Show the mercy
Bestow it upon me
Fellow brother, sister
Look down and
see me.
Help me.

Little pieces of paper
To threaten the existence
of Little girls

Why know English?
To comprehend a language
That many of us already speak ?

Why learn Math?
In ten years' time,
I don't see myself
doing set theory
or applying circle properties to my occupation
Its' called common sense
And this common sense will lead me to believe
and to perceive whatever I have to do
In ten years' time
At this juncture, I must ask
Is common sense being taught?

Why learn Science?
Yes understanding the world before us
Humanities?
Science and Humanities
Common foes
Threatens each others' existence
One looks at human conditions
The other make theories to "disprove" that human condition
Love is blind, says one.
Love is Everything,
"This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet"
The great poet has uttered.

Pieces of paper
With marks scrawled in red
Threatens my very existence
Live your life to the fullest.
Becomes a misleading statement.

And then again,
exams seem like a milestone
And many of us frogs
Which leap from one to another
Drown in the middle
Hop up to another
A never-ending series of jumps
All the way till I'm 22.

Little pieces of paper
To threaten the existence
of Little girls

An afternoon breeze
expels cold air, along with
the fallen brown leaves.

Cherry blossoms bloom,
softly falling from the tree,
explode into night.


The warmth on my skin.
Fire falls beneath the trees.
I see the sun set.

Summer here again.
Music plays sweetly, drifting.
And life is renewed.

A winter blanket
covers the Earth in repose
but only a dream

An ocean voyage.
As waves break over the bow,
the sea welcomes me.

- Anonymous

To my lovely girl
The ever-so-beautiful wallflower
I love you
And thank you so much for the lovely letter
I think you caught me reading the letter
Over and over again
Cuz' it was like you giving me a piece of your heart
And it felt good to read it
And the extinguished little flame of hope
has lit up again.
Thank you so much.
And I loved the quote you wrote.
It had so much of meaning in it;
I could appreciate its true essence.
Hey wallflower, you're a
beautiful girl
inside and out.
Keep smiling
And I will smile along with you!

To both of you
Your paranoia has taken
a totally new level.
By checking my phone,
or my email accounts
or my Facebook account
is not going to be doing you
* any form of good. *

My friends and I
called that conversation
a heart-to-heart
the kinds I've never had with
both of you.
There are overwhelming feelings
that need to be poured out
And with that someone you know you could trust
That's pretty much
good for my mind.

Academics come second or third
When you are having a mid-life crisis
I'm sorry sir
but
get
YOUR
priorities right.

The one hour that I would have
to spend with you on Sundays
is the most unproductive,
stupidest things
I've ever done in my entire life.
It's not helping me.
And if you haven't gotten the signs already,
you should just stop,
and not care too much about anything.
Yes, it may be your next-of-kin's future
That you're worrying about
And I'm worrying about the exact same thing
But there are some things i don't show or tell you
So please, keep quiet.
If you're going to be strict with me,
let me tell you one thing.
It's not going to go the way you want it to be.

Slashes of the cane may never leave their mark.

Well, both of you might as well keep quiet.
I probably wouldn't go to Harvard
And that's well none of my concerns
Because I know
Few years from now, I
will
try my best to get into a good uni.
But till then,
I beg of both of  you
Just keep quiet.
Both your voices
Neither soothing nor reprimanding
Is what I don't what to hear.
So if you could just care on some important things
Maybe my health or my study?
I think I would study even more
And do better
Just help me clear my doubts once in a while
I don't need both of you.
All the time.
You might say,
Oh you are so ungrateful
But let me tell you,
deep inside
I still care, and I still worry about you.
So I'm not that ungrateful
Just care when it looks like if you have to
Until then, don't talk
keep quiet
Cuz' I only feel worse and worse
when you do.

Seriously sometimes my friends
would be able to empathize more
And they understand
And one more things,
if companies search through so much data,
they would be very very very
disappointed to know how many people
do it every single day.

In the inside,
I'm almost at breaking point.
There's so many things I don't tell you.
Problems only get worse
Your advice doesn't make much of a difference.

So just keep quiet.

a connotation of infinity
sharpens the temporal splendor of this night

when souls which have forgot frivolity
in lowliness,noting the fatal flight
of worlds whereto this earth’s a hurled dream

down eager avenues of lifelessness

consider for how much themselves shall gleam,
in the poised radiance of perpetualness.
When what’s in velvet beyond doomed thought

is like a woman amorous to be known;
and man,whose here is alway worse than naught,
feels the tremendous yonder for his own—

on such a night the sea through her blind miles

of crumbling silence seriously smiles

E.E. Cummings

mother problems
chicken pox
asked my aunt
she replied
shower my mother with love and care
after many tries
chicken pox
appointment to the end
of chicken pox
sent my mother a message that she wasn’t okay
drowsy drowsy
medicines
drowsy
shouts and screams
a clueless father
a I-dont-give-two-*******-***** sister
exams over
results out
failed my favourite subject
HOW DID I FAIL LITERATURE
chicken pox doctor
misdiagnosis
then gave me wrong number of weeks to rest
choreography for bollywood
tamil folk
parents were showering ill concealed parental
concern
went to support
ran ran ran
confused and nervous
of the entire world hating me
i ran. ran. i ******* ran
wash the dishes
cooked **** - got scolded for not cooking
extremely ***-y father
why the ******* hell did that happen
cooked
messed up dishes
ate dinner outside
whole family sick
syf prac horrendous
out of breath
trying to run
dinner outside everyday
people who didnt listen
people who didnt care about the dance
time limit
one week before kanal
havent finished choreography
CHICKEN ****** POX
came back to school
parents being ***
whole family down with chicken pox
mother working her *** off
she doesnt want any help
dancing dancing dancing  
mother’s talk about me trying to get away from dance
raffles diploma
performance
november performance
i couldnt dance
kicked out ruthlessly
kanal
five minutes before
a message no more such activities next year
marche dinner
screamed and screamed
out of breath
******* hole in my throat
ran ran ran ran ran
away from idiosyncrasies
raffles diploma
career choices
out of money
where did all the money go
where did all the money go
goals
fashion designer
parents : banker, scientist
work backwards from the goal
dance i want to dance
outings
2 days before
go on to khan academy
father only listens to himself
crushed bones
crushed ribcages
i cant breathe
still running

Oh dear villanelle
You seem to be the death of me
Trying to write you, all seems unwell

Stubborn mademoiselle
You are, only wanting a very specific rhyme scheme
Oh dear villanelle

Why can’t you be kinder, my voice yells
Word play seems a challenge
Trying to write you, all seems unwell

All lines to end with an –elle?
Why not a –eek, or a – yike or an -ouch
Oh dear villanelle

What a villain –elle
You seem to be
Trying to write you, all seems unwell

I do wish that villanelles
Will never be confined to one specific form
Oh dear villanelle
Trying to write you, all seems unwell

Most of the time
I would love to think
that you bring about your own destruction.
Isn't that true?
Actions you exhibit
Words you sing
of good
and bad
Everything leads to something.
Lack of
Or too much
communication
also does that to you.
Everything rebounces
right
back
at
you
and you will then find yourself at the crossroads of your own life,
guard it well,
and so,
farewell.

Doomsday is coming soon
(DOOMSDAY IS COMING SOON)
Who am I kidding?
Piles of papers
With the onerous reds
Who am i kidding
Who am i kidding
Ready to fail every single exam
Here i come
Doomsday 2013

The little gold
Shines beautifully
Under the yellow light
Shimmering faces
With a cheeky smile

Come four years
A little older
A  little dirtier
But that same cheeky smile
The same little gold

Come another 8 years
The same little gold
Inside
Layers and layers
of dark, black
dirt piling up
No more cheeky smiles
Only masks, masks and more masks

Come another 16 years
The same little gold
More and more
More and more
More and more
Layers piling up
The little gold
No more to be seen
Black, coarsened gold
Masks, masks and
more masks
A heart of gold
But not
a mind of gold

Come another 32 years
The little black gold
ceases to exist.
Under the thousands
and thousands
and thousands
of other layers
But a new layer of gold
forms.
Twas not the gold
formed first
Formed last
Old is gold.

I come here
To spill my emotions
Out of an overflowing cup
Sometimes
It's just too much
It's like a large sack of rice
On my head
When I sleep
I feel the burden
I try to spill the little
grains of rice
Trying trying trying
It's an imaginary sack of rice
I walk
I think
I spill
I walk
I think
I spill
Over and over again
I come here
And spill
You see my
thoughts
become words
full of meaning
But if you see what I see
Everyday in a
Panel of glass
I don't seem to be
that person
I am tired of
trying
pretending to be nice
to people who don't deserve it
I try
I really do
To juggle things in life
But people like you
Like you, yes you
Your words pull me down

And that sack of rice just
gets
bigger
and bigger
heavier
and heavier
And  one day I
will collapse
That sack of rice blinding my thoughts
That sack of rice
On my head
On my body
Hands, shoulders, legs
And you might never see me again
Under that sack of rice

So I come here
Hello Poetry
To spill those grains of rice
before something happens
and
I
collapse.

September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.

She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,

It's time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle's small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac

on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.

It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.

But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.

Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house.

-Elizabeth Bishop

at the pit of my stomach
deep down
those words
filled with some sort
of betrayal
speculation
stabbed right
there
and I felt
really
really
really bad
and guilty
for everything
I probably shouldn't have done.
Yet the past cannot be erased
Neither can I burn all the memories away
Desperate
to crush them into *****
and throw them right into the fire
burn
burn
burn
let it burn
but my memories are no paper *****.
and they come back
every
now and then
from the back
to the front
a subtle reminder
**you probably shouldn't have done that.

have you ever sat down by the windowsill
and wondered why
the birds could fly so high
when you couldn't?
the insects could make small noises
when you couldn't?

Oh dear Villanelle, I tried, I tried, I tried
To cure you of a stubborn disease; a form
So onerous, it hurts both my eyes

To see you bleeding tears out of your sullen eyes
Words would always have their power to ****
Oh dear Villanelle, I tried, I tried, I tried

My closet holds no aba aba
If I’ve only known better medicine, there seems
No cure for you , so onerous it hurts both my eyes

Iambic pentameter you say, NO
Such remedy I say
Oh dear Villanelle, I tried, I tried, I tried

Your crumpled form, my eyes cried
Tears that I’ve never known
Dear Villanelle, I tried , I tried , I tried
This villanelle, so onerous, it hurts both my eyes.

To all my dear friends
who may cut, gag
or even self-harm
I want to let you know
that you're more than just
a pile of bones
a layer of skin
and
a body of blood
You
have a soul
A wonderful soul
You might have
heard the saying
Every cloud has a silver lining
And yes,
you are beautiful in
your
own
special way.
To my darling friends,
life may be tough
but it is these tough moments in life
that give you thick skin
The skin of resilience
Good things become good
memories
And the not-so good things
become good
experiences
Words have the power to ****
So use it wisely
Use it wisely on yourself
Use it wisely on others
You never know when those words will
come back
to haunt and to hurt
Look at the bright side of things
You are one special entity
with so many beautiful things about you
Through tough moments,
you develop skin
you develop
your mind
your soul
your body
That little rock
Becomes a diamond
And you become a very very
beautiful person.
If there's something I've learnt,
remember to cry and to laugh
Tears are not a sign of weakness
Tears speaks more eloquently
than ten thousand tongues
of power and strength.
And laughter is the best medicine.
Remember to smile
Be kind to yourself and to others.
Don't run away from your problems,
face them
head on
like a strong warrior
Do something about your life.
Time runs
and many of us walk
To keep pace with time,
and thereafter,  your life
RUN.
Yes, run like the wind.
Do something you love.
Do it with passion.
Work hard.
Enjoy life.
Well, saying all these,
I look at myself again.
You know what,
I've decided to do all that.
And this poem is the start
A mark of the day
I've started to run
I've started to see
A bit more meaning
In everything I do
And everything I will do.
Most importantly, I
can't wait to
see what my future holds,
cuz' everyday is a beautiful day
and tomorrow is going to be
an
even
MORE
BEAUTIFUL
DAY.

I wrote
I wrote
poems of disgust
poems of love
poems of criticism
Has it ever occurred to me
that my words were more than words
that my thoughts were more than thoughts
I see,
a poem works better when you're really confused
writing it.
And this probably why
I'm trying to write the confusion out
Words are being told and written
Tomorrow
words written on a piece of paper
may perhaps, mould my destiny
And I'm more confused than ever
the day before
On whether this is the start
or this is the end
Why the sonnet?
the villanelle?
the ballad?
why, oh why
Some reason why
I saw poets drafting poems
5 drafts before a poem
and I don't why
Simply because am I not writing a poem?
that many people put pens onto their heads
and scratch their chins
Is it not a poem enough that I'm writing this?
Or filled with secrets should it be?
A need for a title?
A space for a little flight off to another world?
Where Time starts with a capital T?
And perhaps, Death too?
Is it not a poem enough that I'm writing this?
Repetition after repetition
Theme
Structure
why the need
if you dare to speak out through your words on paper?

To be frank,
metaphors scare me.
They do.
I don't know how
but many poems
have metaphors so
awfully entwined in them.
It makes the comparison
a so detailed list.

From the bone for the poem
the metaphor starts
out to the skin
it never ends
it penetrates the human soul
leaves a scar,
a mark -
a clue to the human condition.

And so
still to be frank
metaphors scare me.

superfluous love
for a discipline
is so much to
that of
information to a gossiper
******* to a drug addict
a dangerous concoction for a aspiring witch
.

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens

William Carlos Williams

you sit.
you watch.
you work.
with headphones over your head.
community service.
work.
family??!
dinners only.
not much talk.
meetings
meetings
meetings
your daughters don't listen to you?!!
your wife is funny.
a boring life.

LETTER FROM A MOTHER TO A DAUGHTER:

"My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.
If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”... Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep.
When I don’t want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get you to take a shower when you were just a girl?
When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way... remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day... the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.
If I occasionally lose track of what we’re talking about, give me the time to remember, and if I can’t, don’t be nervous, impatient or arrogant. Just know in your heart that the most important thing for me is to be with you.
And when my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered mine to you when you first walked.
When those days come, don’t feel sad... just be with me, and understand me while I get to the end of my life with love.
I’ll cherish and thank you for the gift of time and joy we shared. With a big smile and the huge love I’ve always had for you, I just want to say, I love you... my darling daughter."
- Unknown

Shadows loom in the dark
What were you thinking?
No voice, coughs coughs
Never seems too good
Maybe not that bad either
Mind's such a whirlwind
in the dark
dark
dark
Sometimes, I just wish I could ask,
Penny for your thoughts?

A little rain
A little sunshine
Out comes a little caterpillar
From a little cocoon
Grows
Sheds
Few Layers of Skin
Butterfly, a lovely one
Flies all over the place
Meets another beautiful butterfly
Mates
Babies
Egg
A little rain
A little sunshine
Out comes a little caterpillar
A lovely gift for their love.

the body, a cage
myriad of feelings
craving to be let out

Hush, little child, stay right in there
You don't deserve to be let out

the body,
holding for the litany of plain actions
every single day

the body,
God is in it,
heaven?
hell?
what is this

the body,
a circus act
standing on a thin rope
ready to tilt and fall

a lifeless body
with a lifeless heart
sits there
awaiting the cold,cruel stab
to the heart

Wouldst thou not be content to die
When low-hung fruit is hardly clinging
And golden Autumn passes by?

Beneath this delicate rose-gray sky,
While sunset bells are faintly ringing,
Wouldst thou not be content to die?

For wintry webs of mist on high
Out of the muffled earth are springing,
And golden Autumn passes by.

O now when pleasures fade and fly,
And Hope her southward flight is winging,
Wouldst thou not be content to die?

Lest Winter come, with wailing cry
His cruel icy ******* bringing,
When golden Autumn hath passed by;

And thou with many a tear and sigh,
While life her wasted hands is wringing,
Shall pray in vain for leave to die
When golden Autumn hath passed by.

Edmund Gosse (1877)

2 deaths in
3 days
I don't know what to say
or even what to feel anymore.
A close friend, first
then
a friend's father
Gone from earth
to the golden gates of heaven
A close friend;
she was
A beautiful soul
A listening ear
That was all she had.
So many moments filled
with laughter
So many emotions
God bless her soul

A friend's father
Oh pain engulfed him
The last of his days
were not the easiest
Pain, blood, torture
Never a day
Had he not brought his daughter to school
Supported her through thick and thin
God bless his soul

Both into the golden gates of heaven

Swords are drawn in soundless night
Above the walls of gold
The winged angels of death descends
A thousand from above
Now Heaven is in its last throe of death

Winged angels of death
Embraced them both
Into its cozy wings
God bless their souls.

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
   But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
   All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.

Warm brown curtains
The lovely sunlight bathing
The House
ensconcing it
it was beautiful, breathtaking even.
But,
the people inside were up to no good.
And so, there was a father.
who gave everybody else the cold shoulder,
eyes fixated on some steel devices
and only thing he said was hi.
And then, came the mother.
A lovely soul, but
hypocritical words created much misery.
And then, were 2 sisters,
who hung on to each other for dear life.
They loved their parents.
They loved the happy memories.
Oh, where did all that go?

What was wrong?
Oh, what was wrong?

The House
all bleak and broken walls
dimmed lights
china pieces scattered,
hearts shattered
everything was broken.
everything was bleak.
And rain,
came everyday
When will the rainbow come now?

I stroll along a fragrant country lane
With honeysuckle perfume on the air -
And feathered crooner's warble to revere -
Then cross a golden sea of flowing grain
In empathy - it seems to sense my pain
Of knowing all was done with my affair -
Her empty meaning now the solitaire
She cast away - betrothment all in vain.
But oceans team with many fish to catch
So I must up and hoist another sail
And seek the one that really waits for me,
For soon auspicious breezes will prevail
In guiding forth to find a truer match:
The one to take my hand as wife to be.

Mark R Slaughter

flips through pages and pages
words and words
exclamation marks here
and comma there
at some juncture,
ellipses,
and it was a lovely illustration
of a thousand punctuation marks
and
words
mouth agape,
I wonder
who am I penning the story of
you
or
me ?

Tears line the rims of
My eyes; drop by drop it goes
Into a little ocean
Beneath me
Infinity beyond
Surrounds me
Drowning in my own depression.

I want a world
full of rich people
who fulfills their every needs
not
succumbing to
pregnant egos
consternating sadism
******
terror
inferior complex
I want a world full of happy people
With great big smiles
That comes from deep within
And off their faces
People who
genuinely care
genuinely loves
If we had a world like that,
I would never be in a
tangled spider web
where every direction I look
I see terror's menacing eyes
And opportunities' menacing glances
Into the
scary
impending future

A little glass balancing on a string
Tips to the other side
When a little bit of water gets poured in
To balance, pour the same water out
Things get thrown into the little glass
Sways sways sways
Colouring added in
Tips to the other side
Random pieces of **** added in
Tips to another side
More and more things get poured in,
And the little glass tips
Crashes to the ground
Lays on the floor in
smithereens
Life is fragile
Take care of it
and balance your
life.

I really
don't know
what to feel anymore.
Frustration, Anger, Sadness
Happiness, Shock and Surprise
That's what these past few days have been.
And things are just building and building up.
And I honestly don't know what to feel anymore.

Have you ever wondered
that your dreams might
one day
one faithful day
come true

I've wished and dreamt of
so many
and so much more

I love the feeling
of dreaming
You enter a world of unreal
and do the impossible
This is where
this is where
you reach dreams that you can't
seem to even see

I lay down every night
In my bed
Darkness all around me
I weave dreams in the darkness around me
A light
I see something beautiful and
burning bright

I want to reach for it
But I can't
I weave those dreams
I close my eyes
I want to do this
I want to do that
But my dreams are faraway
I want to reach for it
But I can't

Hey wallflower
So this is a poem for you
It's fine to reply back in a poem
Yes, it is?

Call me
Text me
Means a lot
Really

It shows that someone truly cares about you
And you know what
It's a nice feeling
I just saw the poem you wrote

And you said that
call me
text me
were just words
not actions

But they are words
With meaning
Words to show
that you truly care

Thank you for the note.
I love you.
( In a friendly way)

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Shel Silverstein

A cage
Trapped within
Is a few thousands
dreams

Slashed on my skin
A few pieces
of the cane
Red sweltering marks
pain
reddening
the red tide rushes out


Let go
Let go

Hundreds of thoughts
Gone
Simply
Gone.
Into the dark night sky,
dreams gone.
words gone.
The body
lies down on the body.
Rush of thoughts
Final emotions
before every
vessel
every beating *****
that gives me the life to live
comes to a
stop and takes
a break.

When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood's run stale

I want to hide the truth
I want to shelter you
But with the beast inside
There's nowhere we can hide
No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come

When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide

Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide


By Imagine Dragons



It's true
The darkest of thoughts
will be the ones
always inside us.  
{ Myrtille}

My lovely girl
Velohomme
Behind that mask of yours
are you really that person who
writes to cut
" chop chop chop"
are you really that girl who sheds tears at night?
and sleep open-eyed

When I see you
I sense a spark of inspiration in me
to be a better person
But behind that mask of yours...

I don't know anything anymore velohomme
You were someone I 've always wanted to be
The girl full of smiles
Odd jokes
And
Laughter
but in your poems that
you
authored
You don't seem
to be that girl I've known all along
You seem to be a girl
Who sheds her tears in the dark
Let the blood pour out of her open wounds
Worry about the problems that I've never
Imagined that you had

You seem
To
Be
Confused
With your own emotions

You don't seem to know why you are happy
or why you are
sad
You sit in that corner of the classroom
Sleep with a peace that I've never known or seen it
In anyone else
Yet in your poetry
It is filled with
Dark meaning
Blood
Fear
And sheer terror

My lovely girl
Velohomme
Behind that mask of yours
are you really that person?

Stars, stars
they shine so bright
yet so bright in
the dimly-lit sky

Stars, stars
Ever heard of shooting stars?
Well, I think I saw one
And made a wish
And then I saw it go right down

Stars, stars
Thousands and thousands
Millions of millions
collected dust
are called
stars

Dust, dust
Oh whatever happened to your other name
Stars
Thou'st don't shine so brightly anymore
By cause of dead wishes
dead dead dead dust
Then why did thy,
the shooting star,
come right up,
I wished, I wished a little wish
And then you went right d
                                               o
                                                  w
                                                     n
Hopes fell right down
The same way you fell right down


Stars, stars
they shine so bright
yet so bright in
the dimly-lit sky

Are you sure you are shining bright in the sky?

Her eyes spell green.
She is a monster.
Behind my back
she breathes our her green fire
onto people so fragile
Consumes them with so much
Satisfaction
Sadism to a whole new level
Her strength grows
The weaker  
I strive to fight
Who are you?
Green monster

But it's not just her
Today I realised
It's all around me
I pull out my shield
To protect myself among the
Many green monsters
But one against many
Is a black piece against a hoard of white
Every white piece
Comes forward
Attacks
The little black piece
becomes weaker
and weaker
It's start to feel the monster's breath
Near its eyes
Down to the throat
Sooner or later
At its heart

So when this green monster
Finally
Breathes
The green fire within her
Along with many other monsters
I see myself
Drowning
In a green sea
where not even a single person
would care to take a look back at.

And the gut feeling creeps back again
a startling visitor
especially at this hour
as the day went past,
the pain only increased.
can a person feel more contrite?
i felt that my soul was cut into 2
one in a room
filled with light
but a dark hole awaits
and then the other filled with the dark
and a lingering little flame awaits.
apprehension's bringing me too far
I guess I should stop.