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I like you.

What? *I like you
?!?
No no no.
You can do way better.
That is too vague.
Put some.... pizzazz into it. Like this:

You are incredible.
I find it impressive that you can keep me talking for hours
And it doesn't bother you that I never seem to run out
Of things to say.
I think your hair is beautiful
And I love that you keep everything so simple.
Your smile shines, and I can't help but grin when I see you happy.
Oh, and you give the best hugs.
In short, I like you.
A lot.

...See? A lot better.

...

...

Why didn't you say that to her?!? Aaaaahhhh, stupid!
I give up! You're hopeless and you're never going to get her!
This is definitely a terrible, stupid poem. I am trying to give a brief, comical glimpse inside my head when I am talking to a crush of mine. It's stupid, but I wanted to write it, and I hope the experience of writing this poem allows me to perfect my technique and learn to better pursue inspiration. As always, thank you for reading.
I cannot find a reason
To write a poem today
I search throughout my head
And look down every pathway
The inspiration doesn't come
I don't think it ever will
I guess I'll just chase inspiration
And beat it until it lies still.
This poem was inspired by a quote from Jack London: "You cannot wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club." It's simple, but I like the message.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
If you're ever feeling sad
If you're ever feeling down
If you ever cease to smile
And you begin to frown.

If you're ever feeling lonely
If you're ever feeling blue...
Just know that I'm right here
And I'm willing to help you.
Often there are people all around us wishing to help us with whatever problems we may have, and we overlook them or shrug them off.
We're building a snowman
And it's not going well.
The snow just won't pack
And nobody will help.

It's cold and it's wet.
The ground underneath's muddy.
And we're sitting here wishing
That instead it was sunny.

The neighbor kids come
Saying they want to play
But only as long as
We do it their way.

They kick the snow 'round
And start a big fight.
Shove our faces in snow
'Til they're all white.

When we ran away,
They screamed, "No fair!"
"That's not in the rules!
You must stand there."

They kick down our snowman
And when we start crying,
They make Boo-Hoo faces,
And tell us, "Stop whining!"

The sun starts setting.
They all are called home.
We are left standing
In snow-dust alone.

Oh, we hate those darned neighbors
And their kind of fun.
From now on, we decide
How our happiness is run.
I tried to write this one as a metaphor. Often in the world, we seek help from others, only to have them tell us how we're doing it wrong. Then, they step in and show us the "right" way, often destroying something that makes us happy, and spit in our face when we become upset about the way they run things. Every man should be left to himself.
There once was a man named Bobby
Who was bored and needed a hobby
He sat there and pondered
He thought, and he wondered
But nothing came to him all day.

So Bobby decided to write
But none of his words came out right.
His thoughts tossed and turned
And his first drafts, he burned
Because he felt his work was trite.

Suddenly, the room filled with flames
And he knew his first drafts were to blame
He tried to escape
But he was too late
And soon he screamed with pain.

He died later on that day
And his story goes on to say
Take pride in your work
And all of its quirks
Or soon you will leave the same way.
I tend to believe that our harshest critics are ourselves, and that we must learn to overcome that terrible voice in our heads, or else we'll never do what we love.
 Jan 2015 Heliza Rose
Creep
I have determined that I will stop being so selfish,
stop writing depressing poetry on myself,
stop worrying others,

and start thinking about you.

Don't worry about me,
I'm a waste of brain cells and don't deserve to be thought about anyways.
I need you to stop caring about me.
stuck with me
by green day

let me worry about you, and not about my demons.
 Jan 2015 Heliza Rose
JWolfeB
I pray for your fingertips. That each edge of this world you touch will walk away equally blessed as I am each day to have you. That the blood that circulates through your skin considers itself grateful to power such a beautiful monument.

I pray for your shoulders. For they will hold the weight of our universe for no other reason than love. That the stars will remember your constellation. And with the strength of god himself you will move mountains.

I pray for your feet. Each sinew of stretched promise embracing the footfall of your everything. Your presence, a fossilized stone blazing trails of altruism with a smile. And for a foot massage when you return to my hands which have Awaited you ever so eagerly.

I pray for your eyes. The cinema they are will tell me stories. Displaying travel with a short film of service and the ending credits written in forever. For your eyes are filled with life and will be memories in dreams for those wanting a better tomorrow.

I pray for your lips. As waterfalls of words will slash into the immensity in front of you, remember the power you possess in your tongue. Always speak in tongues of forgiveness. In tongues of acceptance. Your voice alone, is proof that god is good.

I pray for you mind. Finding patience in washed clothe pockets. Slow yourself to anger and quickly grow to understanding. Keep a treasure chest of memories that I may find when you return. Peace shall be present upon you, If not don't forget to ask for it.

I pray for your heart. May your heartbeat find the same channel as mine. Absorb each and every fiber of the moments you exist there. Carve drawings telling of your life on the walls. Pump life into the air current so it reaches me. After all, we are under the same sky.
A special person is leaving the country today and this is a poetic prayer I wrote for her.
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