In our childhoods the biggest want and the most creative entertainment Were toys We whined We pined We begged We even bartered outrageously That we might serendipitously Find the strings The felt cloth The plastic so pristine Under a tree Or under our beds Or behind the backs of those who love us But even hours go by and The plastic shatters The felt tears The strings snap And the most regretful of all things The dust settles
Poetry can be written in the dark or it can be written in the light Its written in the open Its written behind a locked door Its shown in movements Its shown in sounds Its funny Its sad Its inspiring Its for children Its for birds And dogs And cats And people But the one thing that poetry must be Is that it must be From your HEART And more importantly it must form from passion
Inside your heart
Or else it will be swept up and shoved down By all the hate Apathy Laziness Contempt That is more than plentiful in this world Poetry must be passion Or else its another recycled paper Or another deleted file Or failed grade Passion and only passion from the heart Inspires Entrances And grows
I sit here today wondering why Why you left me here alone Why you did what you did Why did you have to go All these qustons pop into my head But can not be ansered.
don't hide your face. don't hide your heart. don't hide your soul. don't keep who you are all to yourself. let the world see you, let them see the wonderful creation that you are. let them marvel at the admirable light that shines inside of you, darling. don't keep your beauty and wonder to yourself. share your brave heart, show your kind spirit and your gentle beauty. but don't keep the ugly inside. don't keep your doubts and your fears and your sadness to yourself. don't drown in your sorrows and your tears. don't bottle yourself up.