if i were you
i wouldn't fall for a poet
they may be good at making you feel overwhelmed
they can make you fall through their actions
but they'll make you fall even harder with their words

falling for a poet is quite easy
they say,
they're gonna be spending a whole day
pouring their heart out
while tapping their pens rhythmically
with trembling hands
as they write about
your date nights,
movie marathons
and play fights
it will all be written on a piece of paper

i am a poet
i can make you experience life
in comparison to a rollercoaster ride
through poetry
i'm a woman of many emotions
you'll sometimes get confused
about how my brain ticks
i'll write about
the car rides under the stars
and under the city lights
i'll give you the sun,
the moon,
the universe
name it

i'd offer a blank page
and every stanzas
only for you
word per word
line per line
will be spoken with emotion

in photography
every moment was being captured
by the photographer
as well as in poetry
your actions towards a poet
could mean a lot
you'll be surprised
i write
even the heartaches
you have caused
so i wouldn't forget
the pain you inflicted
but i'd still thank you, eventually
for it wasn't for you,
i wouldn't be able to write this

I planted a seed
I watched it grow.
I watered it daily
I loved it so.

Every morning I opened my eyes
So I could admire you.
And you used to look back at me
and you admired me too.

But I looked to the horizon,
and I saw death in the sky.
Then, the storm took you away from me
and I couldn't understand why.

It's been a long time
since I lost my sweet, pretty flower
Sometimes I want to plant a new one
But I don't think it will grow.

Sometimes I feel like I've already planted one
Other times I feel like I never did.
Maybe I planted it but never watered it.
I don't really know.

I want to ask you to be my sweet, pretty flower
But I think I forgot how.

We met in moonlight of July
Howling wolves dancing on grave yard stones
Twigs and broken spades
lay frozen in forgotten hollows.
The night shivered cold with the winter breeze
In the shadow of the night
The moonlight found its way through
My bedroom window.

She was dressed in sin and I in lust
Time knew that heaven and hell
Were on a the verg of collision
Her spoken words found the warm
Flesh on my skin
Paralyzed by the sound of her whispers
my breathing intensified.

She left as quick as she came
I laid cold and alone
Curled into myself like fetus in the womb
I was robbed of innocence
My deed an unforgivable sin.

I have been urged by earnest violins
And drunk their mellow sorrows to the slake
Of all my sorrows and my thirsting sins.
My heart has beaten for a brave drum's sake.
Huge chords have wrought me mighty: I have hurled
Thuds of gods' thunder. And with old winds pondered
Over the curse of this chaotic world,-
With low lost winds that maundered as they wandered.

I have been gay with trivial fifes that laugh;
And songs more sweet than possible things are sweet;
And gongs, and oboes. Yet I guessed not half
Life's symphony till I had made hearts beat,
And touched Love's body into trembling cries,
And blown my love's lips into laughs and sighs.

'You! What d'you mean by this?' I rapped.
'You dare come on parade like this?'
'Please, sir, it's-' ''Old yer mouth,' the sergeant snapped.
'I takes 'is name, sir?'-'Please, and then dismiss.'

Some days 'confined to camp' he got,
For being '***** on parade'.
He told me, afterwards, the damnèd spot
Was blood, his own. 'Well, blood is dirt,' I said.

'Blood's dirt,' he laughed, looking away,
Far off to where his wound had bled
And almost merged for ever into clay.
'The world is washing out its stains,' he said.
'It doesn't like our cheeks so red:
Young blood's its great objection.
But when we're duly white-washed, being dead,
The race will bear Field-Marshal God's inspection.'