Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Feb 2015
LETITFXRING
Few words
Were never enough for me
But I managed some how

To tell you what
I love most about  You  and your  flaws
That you seem to care about

I love you for  You,

I wish you understood

For every me piece of me
Loves every bit of You


                                                                      **♥
 Feb 2015
PrttyBrd
In the darkness of night
Searching for that lost ship
That pulled into port without a sound
Searching sans lighthouse
In the reflection of a new moon
Every variation of wave
Sounding like the possibility of you
Worry and wonder and what ifs
And the demons, they laugh
For my heart knows
Though my head plays damaged films
On a shoddy projector
Everything is a possibility
Without a thought of a word
No notice
Not a crumb tossed to a bright little brd
No thoughts of a vacant soul
Long out of mind
Though never out of heart
Peaceful slumber
Feels like punishment
Feels like the possibility of spite
I don't know
Until i know
Even though I've always known
Spirits torn and taped in love
Have yet to set in glue
A broken mind skewed to darkness
Leaves another sleepless night
In the wake of the dawn
As the captain, comfortably in port,
Looks over the ocean
The starless sky a backend blue
Falling out in peaceful slumber
While tears fill the ocean
With thoughts of you
22115
Kudos to the Promoter –
The oblivious n’ obliging  
That planned and precipitated
This Perpetual Peninsular Planet
  
Kudos to the Governor
Who lit nuclear fire in far fulcrum
For a clear day light delight
Creamy kind to the mankind
  
Kudos the Sole Soul Administrator
Who gifted circular air corridor
And nosed it down into lungs
To beat to the heart’s content
  
Kudos the Chief Organizer
Who sponsored organic life around
Induced conducive premises
To belong and live long along
  
Kudos to the Ace Architect
Who opened up infinite cosmos
To host finite entities to thrive
Cycle and recycle thru infinity
  
Kudos to the Ubiquitous
Who master minded gene n’ genre
To organize sensory organs
And make chosen living
Overcast canvas wide within the visible range,
Down the canopy of crowded clouds in rage,
Nature sprayed its petals and pellets of snow,
From the ethereal sky in a cool blend of harmony,
Oh behold!  the scenic splendor of its sway in its way.

As the day opened up and glittered silver ground,
Dauntless daunting flora and fauna lie dry and high,
Long await cool each its day to bounce and blossom.
And the studious heads heading on foot,
Armoured with hefty winter wear to capture
The beauty in their hunt to haul the wealth in books,  
In the city of university towering high on hill ridge.

It rained and drained thoughts in me to vent,
Sans a day out on stroll in flowery rain to venture,
As I peeped safe through the window panes,
The bewitching landscape in adamant restraint.

And then I looked and locked my iris open on ice,
As pals and pets plying and playing at length so nice.
Towing transport wade through the salted roads,
No matter how hard the day to drag in heaps of odds.

Evening lights highlight twilight of the day,
In a bid to bid good night for the lovely day,
And welcome the day next for the recurring show
Of ceaseless breath of life amidst flying flakes.
 Feb 2015
Ember Evanescent
If I have to worry about if I'm replying to you too quickly and seeming over eager or something, the length of my texts being too long or the content of my texts being too weird, or the amount of texts I send you at once being too much because I'm scared I'll freak you out and annoy you by making you feel like I'm talking too much and won't shut up or I'm obsessed with you or something, then we are not really friends.
dunno, just something I'm thinking about. it's true though, isn't it?
 Feb 2015
Ember Evanescent
I try so hard to be beautiful
If you only knew
But there is nothing beautiful
About the things I do

I try to be less so I can feel like I'm more
But does the number on the scale even matter anymore?

I'm promising and promising I ate before I came
But these pretty little lies are driving even me insane

And if you can't see through my smile
If you can't figure it out
I'm slowly killing myself
From the inside out
This was way back in grade 9 when I was very alone and very... well, I wasn't healthy in the mind. I'm better now. Usually I'm lying about that, but this time I ACTUALLY am. Seriously, I eat too much chocolate now. :P
Silence is my canvas.
Energy is my pantheon.
Thought and Music are my forms of prayer.
 Feb 2015
NuurSeraph
I hope to lead a life that leaves me
with nothing more to give when I die
in the simple sense that I will have
succeeded in giving it all away.
*The less I'll have to trudge with me
to the Other-side, the better....
One of Some of the funnier introspective thoughts and wishes I imagine occurring in the mind of a rightfully tired old soul, upon reflection on yet another life lesson survived successfully.
 Feb 2015
vamsi sai mohan
I am the food but not mere taste,
I am the air but not mere breathe,
I am the odour but not mere smell,
I am the feeling but not mere touch,
I am the love but not mere emotion,
I am the destroyer of time but not mere time,
I am non-consequential but not unattainable,
light is just a happening of me but I am not the light,
I am darkness.
I am all-pervaded but utter stillness,
I am playful but utterly serious,
I am in absolute sleep or in utter wakefulness,
Universe is just a happening of me and I am nothingness.
That which is not..
 Feb 2015
Onoma
The Bride which was its essence unto woman, the
Bridegroom which was its essence unto man--the
Living Epithalamium.
Generational rings slipped on and off the earth...
whose lives lived, and to be lived amongst the
manifold induction to creaturesque contention.
Championed, as to be made in the Image that
allows All--and of that All as it shone upon this
earth...the Bride and Bridegroom emerged from
that blinding Light.
...Partake of this your earth, a still unshakable
inner voice implored, for you would not be, nor
this earth, were it not for my longing that you
should partake of it.
You are fruitful, so how shall you not go forth
and be therefore.
This life has neither floor nor ceiling, what is down
is up, and up...down--that is so ye may be chastened
by the ineffable...Living Epithalamium.
Love, were it not--pit against for hatred's sake...
as if in your time I stood opposed in my own--we
could and should tire of such time...as to relent our
time to one another, thus be rid of it.
Transfixed...thy face--resolute as to crumble stone...
wed be as you are, and ever shall be...so loved One...
by the Living Epithalamium.
Thou art an open Wound dressed and redressed...
delivered thereby.
How so of many a time, and no time to dearly depart
from that Wound...were question, question enough...
O Living Epithalamium.
 Feb 2015
Onoma
An aesthetic storm settled in the
wee hours of creation.
What of it strikes favor or disfavor?
Beauty's immediacy comes with
fatalistic sweep--demanding
principle, demanding ground.
Unveiled beyond time constraint
all over our world--in praise, in
revulsion, eyes score the gamut.
As if image begs love, to be so...
or unrequited.
What's plain of light exposes all
flaw or beauty in a single sitting.
The sitters vary the material world,
with eyes creation asks us to paint
what we see.
The eyes paint the sitter if the sitter
be deemed beautiful, instantaneously
sight's canvas may be left cold...
burdened.
Beauty aspires to affirmation of being,
to have it echoed.
Beauty's lain raw, holds what's held it--
as such...desolation is easy.
Eyes bespeak their volumes...beautiful
or ugly?
A sightly, unsightly moment given to the perpetual.
Epidemic pageantry--ordered by creation
make due...irregardless.
If beauty--eyes are for you--if ugly...eyes
are not.
Thus...of being, of affirmation, of visible,
of invisible--you...beauty are.
Next page