Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Oct 2013 liza
Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
 Oct 2013 liza
Atlas
Sitting there
I realized
I will never
Be the reason you wake up
In the morning

I will not
Be your muse

Nor will I
Be the reason why
This is your favorite coffee shop

All because
Your heart was already locked
I spent days, months, years
Trying to find the key
But she beat me
All I want to do
Is take what is rightfully mine
The love that could have been
Should have been
Would have been

If only
She hadn't come around
With her innocent smile
And naive eyes
Glaring
Staring me down
Like a hawk

What did she do to deserve you?
Is she a Goddess?
A Queen?
A Siren who sang to you
And lured you in so deep
You drowned?

My heart
Was stolen in the midst of
All of this chaos
But I know it is safe
Lying deep
Within the darkness

Is it wrong
If all I want
For me is you?

You are the reason I wake up
Every morning
You are my muse
And you make this coffee shop
Feel like home.
Its kind of a poetry whirl pool of emotions..good luck, enjoy, good night.
 Oct 2013 liza
brooke
is my body a
god-given right
is my spirit more
beautiful? I would
rather be seen for
my contents than
my container.
(c) Brooke Otto

programmed.
 Oct 2013 liza
LONDIN
Between the the drivers seat and passenger door handle
floats a millennium of shy sentences.
 Oct 2013 liza
LONDIN
Stumble
 Oct 2013 liza
LONDIN
You take me to the woods to kiss me
it's there I realize there's no spark, no light in the collide of our lips
just mindless, emotionless kissing
I could see it on your face
you didn't stay the night as I earlier
and no longer wished you would
I collapse on the sofa and watch as you shift in reverse out of the driveway
Next page