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 May 2015
Nicole Corea
I was a caterpillar ,
before I became a butterfly .
The pain I had to endure in order to transform into the beauty I am today .
This is my tale .

In the forest there was,
My cocoon wrapped in the finest silk,
With a power to live in a colorful world.
To dream and conquer goals.
A Vivacious soul spinning in the purest silk
Growing and maturing as I spun.
Wishing for freedom with my beautiful wings,
Counting the days to be free and soar
as a lively butterfly
until
You winded into my community
Lured my queen and her uneven monarch.
Tempted to sabotage my purity.
For that you,
Lured yourself into my vulernable cocoon
with that trust,
you decided to disrupt my process.
How can one man ruin my nesting site?
And I had faith in you ,
to be a figure
I never had.
I wanted.
My heart ached for it.
I needed it.
To be loved .
To be nurtured.
To never be like those stray dogs
looking for a home.
This was the moment .
Where....
Innocence stripped, heart captured.
My Freedom gone.
You were naive to comprehend
On what you were doing...
You would stab my cocoon
with your sickening poison .
Over and over you stabbed .
Ruptured the veins of my innocence .
To break my finest silk .
Purity banished.
Stabbing your poison was
Making my cocoon
useless ,
worthless ,
unwanted,
colorless,
I tried to run and I tried to scream
but I was devoured by this poison
It was the love I deserve.
Couldn't escape , numb to the pain
For every poison injected, I began to
Question God?
Where was he ?
when I shed out a tear of help.
Where was he?
when my cocoon was destroyed.
Was I loved God?
when I muffled help in your name.
I hated myself ,
I stay in my cocoon
afraid to see my future.
I wasn't going to be a beautiful butterfly
Battered Butterfly
My life seemed to be colorless
No one wants a battered butterfly
My life....
It seemed it had ended
when poison sunk onto my helpless body .
No one wants a battered butterfly
Imprisoned to these chains.
Being poisoned every night by different
Predators.
Oh God....
Those predators ...
Battered lifeless little butterfly
Was I ever loved in my nesting site?
But then again nobody loves a battered butterfly
How can I reach to heaven when
I was worthless.
Believed I was a vile *****.
Tricked into a poison of hell.
Battered Ugly Butterfly
***** Little butterfly.
There was no light in tunnel
There was no holes in my silk
To escape this poisonous nest.
Why?
Because I believe nobody wants save a battered butterfly
How can the man I trusted ruined me.
I thought you could be the one to complete my lovely monarch .
To complete the missing piece.
But you continued to misuse me.
To haunt me.
To barricade my heart
To own my soul
But one thing I can truly say
You never once won over me.
You never imprinted my change.
I endured your pain
That was a sign of God
To show me what strength I am capable of.
That was the light that I found,
You had no control to inflict pain anymore.
Because I became impervious to your pain.


I am a beautiful butterfly
reigning over my monarch
with no thought of you.
**That is my freedom
Speaking out on my ****** abuse
 Apr 2015
Just Melz
There's just something* about the way the light shines off *your eyes like emeralds in their purest form just dug out from the ground.

There's just something in the way the words flow off your tongue like the wide array of colors that flowed off of Picasso's brush onto his canvas.

There's just something about the slow and steady movements you make in life, like it's a game of chess but you're the knight,  I'm the Queen and you're always a dozen moves ahead.

There's just something in your smile that radiates laughter, hope and joy like it's the sun and if we all didn't see it at least once a day, we might just **wither away.
He’s no musician.
He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings.
Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric,
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony.

He’s no seamster.
Yet he cuts and he traces,
plain words and printed phrases;
Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully,
into a lovely concrete poetry.

He’s no painter.
He just has a palette of pigmented letters,
splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass.
A blast of contained evocative memories,
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery.

He’s no storyteller.
Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales-
One, of the moon and its lover sea.
Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s,
while kissing behind the sprawling mountains.
Though the dawn will come, they do not fear.
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage,
There’ll the lovers be once again reunited.

He's no poet.**
Yet he writes--
stanzas and verses.
And oh! it revives,
every strand of emotion,
every sense of intuition,
Inside me.
A lyrical perception,
Sheer perfection,
Arousing perpetual reactions,
From me.
I am not good at this. I just want to express my pure gratitude, appreciation and awe for you.

"I am no poet. Never thought of myself as one. Just a guy dabbling clumsily in words"
Yet even, everything you do amaze me.


Thank you all wonderful people on Hello Poetry. I just realized this moment that this poem was featured as Daily poem yesterday.  I have never imagined any of my work will be posted as daily. Thank you all for the hearts, re-post,share, comments and messages. You really made my heart and soul so happy. :)
And most of all, thanks to the man who inspire me to write this one. :)
(04.14.2015)
 Feb 2015
rs
It was not my ear you whispered,
But it was my heart.

And it was not my lips you kissed,
It was my soul.
*~ r.s
 Feb 2015
Quip the Quandary
You know what would look great on the library wall?
Maybe, perhaps, a wrecking ball.
Who needs real books when we have the internet and e-readers?
Who needs live action plays when we have movie theaters?
Are you wondering why there isn't any shade in the park?
We needed to fill the playground with shavings of bark.
Who needs ideas when we have technological omnipotence?
Who needs a savior when we can be saved by our ignorance?

If you're shaking your head, let it be in a mirror,
until the mantra of this generation becomes clearer and clearer.
Consume. Materialize. Deceive. Repeat.
Gain it all for ourselves, it's Mother Nature's treat!
You don't have to believe our intent is for peace or procreation,
in order to confess you've contributed to the world's condemnation.
We were made to be stewards and by sharing, will thrive
if not in this world where the fittest [and fakest] survive.
as I post this on the internet, ha .
well played.
 Jan 2015
ryn
How much do you have to hate life,
to not be scared of death?
- ThePoet


I'd be lying if I said I wasn't
Because I really am afraid
But life has only sharp things
Wonder if death is willing to trade...

Longing
...a splinter
Embedded in the recesses of my core
Nestled deep, this tiny thorn
The source of my disconcerting sore

Need
...a shard
That stabs itself deep
Extract it I will not
Think it's worth the keep

Miss
...a knife
With never a dull blade
Stabs itself right through
Pain that will never fade

Want
...a syringe
Injecting the good and bad
Side effects loom
Driving me quite mad

Love
...a stake
Rammed into my heart
It doubles me over
It rips me apart

Life*
...a spike
Impaling without fail
Siphoning my soul
Through the holes in my mail


These are the few sharp things that I own
The only things I've learnt to savour
I've nurtured them large; now fully grown
Always wondered what death has got to offer...
Line taken off ThePoet's "How?", for Frank Ruland's "I Love Doing Lines!" challenge.

This line left me speechless when I first read it. It boasts of so few words but bears so much weight. It's smart, thought provoking and amazingly deep.
I started toying with it and came up with a response.

I am a big fan of ThePoet. I find that her entries exhibit uncanny wisdom, well laid thoughts and they're incredibly captivating.
Here's to you, ThePoet...
Thank you for the inspiration!
.
 Jan 2015
ryn
How are you?
I'm alright I guess...

Where do we begin?
Maybe at the start of this mess.

Are you uncomfortable?
I can't say that I'm not.

Is it your past?
Well it's all I've got.

Do you still get nightmares?
Well I used to...

Will you let them show?
Depends on you...

What do you hope to accomplish?
I don't know... Peace of mind?

Would you have done things differently?
Everyone wants the chance to push "rewind".

Care to elaborate?
Let's just say I would've liked to be braver.

What do you mean?
I should've stood up to my father...

Did he abuse your trust?
He did more than just that...

Rob you of your freedom?
Let's see... His belt, cigarettes and also boiling water out of a vat.

Do you wish him ill?
I wished him dead.

"Wished"?
Yeah...in his bed.

Why "wished"?
Because I wanted that then...

For how long?
Since I was ten.

What about now?
(
Maniacal smile) I am now... At peace.

"At peace"?
I have found release.

You have?
Yes... I couldn't resist the urge.

Urge to do what?
To comply with the voice... "
Freedom...lies in the purge..."

You left your father?
Yes but not before...

Go on...*
Not before I slit his throat with a smile on my face as I shut the door...
Inspired a programme I watched on the crime channel.
 Jan 2015
Samiha
bring a book with you everywhere; you never know when you're going to be waiting longer than you intended.

- remember to take time out of your busy day to pause for a few seconds. listen to that clock tick. breathe. you're alive. the world is spinning around you and deep beneath your feet lies a fiery core. breathe. you're alive.

- you are worth so much more than you think and don't you dare settle for anything less.

- walk out of your home with open arms, instead of folded arms, because it's much easier to catch whatever life throws at you with open arms.

- remember to take breaks. you're human, not a robot.

- it's okay not to do anything you need to do. we all need those days. don't feel guilty for staying in bed when you should have been doing something important. again, you're human. it's okay.

- smile at strangers.

- read more. it could be the back of your shampoo, or an advert on the train. just read.

- sometimes you won't know what to do. this doesn't make you weak.

- remember, sometimes you won't get back the amount of love you gave away. you must be understanding. you must be willing to move on.

- lastly, please remember to keep trying with that casserole. one day, you'll get it right... (or near enough edible, anyway).
The sun has a
        twinkle
   As it rises over
            the mountain
       High
Similar to the one in
         Your eyes
   That lights up my
         dreary nights
   And somehow
      Makes them bright
  Like the stars,
        barely seen
Against the
       glowing moon
   I am hidden
               behind clouds
    You are the sun
Always shining through
        But there could
     Never be me
           **Without you
This really just kinda came out in a matter of 5 minutes.
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