It is raining
And the sky is gray but it holds
A sort of secret light
A brightness that lends a pearly quality to the falling drops.
It is a lovely, quiet radiance
And it reminds me of you.
In my head I see your face
Your moss green eyes, wide and framed by long dark lashes
Your hair, wild and reaching, the way it stirs in the wind and bounces when you laugh
Your white body in the darkness
A sliver of bone in moonlight
Strong and soft at once, smooth and unblemished, almost liquid, almost velvet, almost light.
I wonder
How the years will make you lovelier
For I know they will.
I see your beautiful hair
Gone silver like spun spidersilk
Falling in ringlets past your shoulders.
I see the forest in your eyes
Grow tall and reach for the heavens,
Gold and green mingling as ever, just as vibrant, just magnetic.
Something about your eyes in a face full of the carvings of laughter and tears, marked by every love and loss and sunny day,
Something about how unchanged they will be
But how much more complete
Makes my heart swell.
I want to see you grow like a tree, like a forest.
I want to see every way you change.
And I know that someday those fathomless eyes,
Young and old at the same time, like the trees,
Will look at me with doubt, with chagrin,
That you will wonder if I want you
As you age
That nothing I say then will be able to convince you completely that I do,
And it makes me smile sadly.
Because as I sit here gazing out the window, seeing in my mind's eye how you'll change,
I can't think of anything more beautiful and more inspiring
Than watching you grow old
Next to me.

There's just so much to say
but no time to say it
I think it's time I fall out of love
Yeah I finally said it
Big bright city both old and new
I'm gonna get lost on that subway
for an hour or two

There's just so much to learn
and so much to give
I think this year once college is over
I might learn how to live
Wake up early round half past 5
Find a quote to live by for the rest of my life

And she ain't perfect,
gotta let it go
I think moving on is possible
just don't forget the happiness you once felt you know?
It ain't all bad oh baby it's okay
I'm gonna play you my whole album
if I make it someday

And all this homework,
Man I really don't care
It's just something to pass the time
but it won't get me anywhere..
That's just the truth
Don't hate my words

Oh finally,
before it's time to get up
(yes I wrote this poem whilst lying in bed half awake half in love)
in love with life
or well at least my idea of it
Sometimes the world ain't pleasant
but I try my best to deal with it

There's probably more to say,
but right now I can't think
I'm just lying in bed waiting for that sun to rise again..

New years new years resolutions
don't just say you'll work out or stay slim
Dig deep, find more
create, explore
New years new years
that's what they're for..



^^ hope you like this poem! I'm really proud of it.

Inspector Dork was not pleased with himself

he had interrogated everyone in the house
only to be knocked down by
impenetrable alibi

Spouse Susan slept soundly through the night
and was awakened in the morn
when the alarm bell rang in his room

Daughter Debby's room was a floor down
she was up with her studies
plugged to earphones

Son Simon was out for the night
he was at his friend's place
for a birthday party

Maid Maddie made his bed
when the clock in his master's room
was chiming ten

Butler Bill having served a glass of milk
closed the door behind him
and retired for the night.

Inspector Dork was about to leave the victim's room
when his eyes fell on the clock pendulum

it was not swinging

he knew who was lying.

It's not a hobby. Be prepared to give your life to it.
Read, read, read: The more poetry you read now,
the better your's will become.
Don't quit your day job. No one ever got rich writing poetry.
If you are seeking fame or to get laid,
there are obviously easier methods.
Ignore criticism, unless it is useful, and even then be wary.
Consider: Your feelings do not constitute the universe;
your love life may not be all that interesting.
Write every day. Don't wait for the Muse.
She is a fickle ***** prone to take random vacations.
Forget originality. It will paralyze you.
Write like a ******. That's what poets are.
Look forward to embarrassing yourself.
Say it in the fewest, best words.
Nothing is easy. Be prepared to burn for it.
Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts.

~mce

Palms overhead sway,
nudged by the occasional breeze.
The chatter crescendoes
before dying down...
To make way for the call of prayer.

It called to its followers.
So calm...
So sincere...

People hunched over their tables.
Savouring delights that came on plates.
Wafting aromas,
mingle like the swirls on candy.
Drenching our senses...
As we immerse ourselves further
in such good company.

I looked at the eyes that surrounded me...
Only soft, kind gazes greeted back.

There are no shadows here...
No silhouettes...
Only faces I know
generous with their gift of glow.

A rising warmth
emanates from the pits within.

In this here circle,
no matter how motley,
I feel alive.
I'm drinking up to a stupor...
This lovely band of five.

I don't want you to miss me
Like an arm or a lung.
I would miss you like that
If you hated me, if you were gone,
And maybe you'd feel
The same.
But away as you are
Reluctantly,
Briefly,
In love and in faith,
I hope you miss me smaller,
Lighter,
Warmer.
I want missing me to go with you wherever you are
Not like a raincloud or a looming shadow
But like
Like a small love note
A little slip of paper, almost inconsequential,
Something you see and smile and think,
"I'll keep this."
Something you fold up small and slide into the bottom of your coat pocket
And fiddle with whenever you're bored or lonely
And maybe sometimes you forget it, maybe it doesn't always catch your notice
But then the wind blows and in the cold you push your hands
Deep into those pockets
And your fingers brush the thought of me and how I love you
And a smile spreads across your face.
Maybe you take it out and look it over,
And then decide to put it back so that can happen
All over again.
I want you to miss me like that.
I want it to be something sweet and small, something that can travel with you
And never weigh you down.
It's true that I think of you whenever I am sat in silence for more than a moment
And I do the same sort of thing
Maybe too often, maybe too fondly.
Maybe my little love note would be creased and worn
And rubbed a little blurry from the pads of my fingers tracing your words.
But nonetheless
You are so easy to take along with me
The thought of you so warm and comforting and
Light
But strong.
I want that for you.
I want to be easy to hold
So that maybe you will never
Let me go.

If I am kindling,
you must be the spark...
Much alive in the darkest dark,
lifting all shadows with
finesse and flair.

     If I am flame,
     you must be the air and wind...
     Unfettered and free...
     Cradling my infancy.
     Only to nurture and inspire,
     to groom flame to fire.

If I am faltering...
And almost extinguished,
you must be the hand...
Bearing the confidence and belief...
Awaiting the moment most opportune,
to align yourself in rhythm and tune.
So we could...
Continue to
burst forth into light.
So we could...
Resume our journey forth with might.

     Let us be our own deterrent
     from the darkness
     that comes with morrow's set.
     Hand in hand, we must...
     Because together...
          And only together,

   we're...

                        incandescent.