Words are power
Creating and building
No unringing a bell
They were said without conscious
Without thinking too well
Sharp tongues
Blister then swell

Listen, listen well
Love sometimes cools
Pretends to die down
True love is passion
Romantics, that's swell
But in real life
It's different

Love is a fire
It burns and swells
But sometimes
It smoldered
It dies

For true romantics
Pure hearts,
Who am I to tell?
But I know this
There is nothing but hell
In love, real romantics, do tell
No matter the fire

A liar will tell
I know her name
Poor broken soul
Take hold your man
Through him, save your soul

I have a writer's block
I cannot write quality poems
At the moment
But still I want to write
What I feel ...

Because my heart
Has endless stories to tell
About this magical feeling
Between you and I

She's just awhile away and I lose my patience
I need her in my eyes grows my dependence!

I need me in her eyes fill me in her sense
how I love on her my growing dependence!

My urge to be with her is growing by the day
miss her for too long when a moment she's away!

I need me in her eyes need her in my sense
a moment seems too long in her absence!

My need to fill with her gets me happiness
how I love on her my growing madness!

I need her in my eyes fill her in my sense
don't care if it shows love's trait of impatience!

I desire a metamorphosis
I know,  I feel,
Life can be better than this
I'd like to rise
A majestic thing
With grace and his glory
Shining in my wings.

Take flight
With colours rare and true,
Pretty like the chalkhill blue
Or glowing like the
Monarch's orange hue.

But instead I am trapped
In the cocoon stage
Wrapped up,curled
Stuck in sinful nature's cage
Wings not yet unfurled

Imprisoned by fragility
Brought on by bipolarity
Kept in emotional intensity
For what feels like eternity

But one day soon
I will feel free
From the cocoon's shackles
That bind me
I will feast on the nectar
Of His good word
And soar and flutter by
Free as a bird

Free in the sure certainty
The promises he's made
Sure of my saviour's love for me
My debts that he has paid

But yet I still feel like the caterpillar
Fumbling around
Still finding my way
I'm grateful for creation
Still orange striped and hairy
Yet not at all scary
Awaiting transformation! :)

Your life began when the first
Grown up eyes fell upon your

Words and welled up with
Parental pride.

You knew you could speak
To feelings; even an adult's.

Every word you'll ever throw
From your heart will hit

At least another. Every feeling
You form into a sword and ******

At the neck of an enemy of a cause;
A love; a matter; a moment

A call to gathering,
Will draw blood.  

Young poet, yours is the oldest of
Souls. You see the clearest; speak

The loudest, hear the most. Write,
Just write! Some arrows will hit

Heart, but you have a shielding legion
Around you, to take the bullets,

Blades and critisism hurled against
You; you are not alone.

Write. Grow. It's a universe that hungers
For your every little word.