Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jun 2016 Jamison Bell
kristina
summer is not enough
to fit all my adventures in
 Jun 2016 Jamison Bell
Kara Jean
Situated in self caused misery
Her choices translucent
Influenced by a life of negativety
She filled her tub with murky water
Warm, a place filled to the tip with disgrace
A bed is shelter overhead,
comfort is never enough
In this vague interpretation of what is good,
she has stiffened posture
A symptom of exposure
Revised
I am a writer, a ****** of words. I am a pen that's skipping ink but I still continue to write despite the broken lines because that's what I'm made for in the first place. Maybe the reason why I get hurt so much is that I fall in love with words a lot. I'm in love with people who is in love with literature. These poems and letters may not be made for you or because of you but their main purpose of being written is to move you. I want you to do something about that girl who works in your favorite book shop because I don't want you commiting the same regrets as I did. I want you to raise your voice and write about the oppression or the wage gap. I want you to write about something from the deepest part of your chest. I want you to write about something I cannot write about.

But some days, I feel nothing. I could write about being in love and about the color of their eyes but nowadays, their eyes look exactly the same. I could write about sadness but sadness itself is what hinders me to grab a pen. Now, I could write about happiness. But I rarely feel this way and when I feel this way, ******* I feel this way. I could gather these words about being filled with the color yellow but happiness will say that those words are not enough to fathom the euphoria I feel in me. Maybe one day, I could explore enough dictionaries to find the perfect words on what I have to say.

You don't have to be the greatest writer there is to make someone feel something through your words. Write about everything, every emotion, and every person who finds their way to your heart. When you can't write anymore, get outside and get your heart broken. Go outside and experience an experience that you never thought you would experience. Soon enough, you will write the words you never thought you would ever write. Don't hold anything other than offensive and oppressive thoughts back. Let the poetry run through your veins and drip down your fingertips. Write, write, and write until you can't write anymore. When you can't write anymore, seek a perhaps to write about then write, write, and write until you can't anymore. Even when the poem is below my satisfaction, I continue to share it anyway because being stoic and still would lead me to madness.

I am a writer, a ****** of words. I am a pen that's skipping ink and even though my lines are broken and unappealing, I continue to write anyway and because that is what I am made for in the first place.
Bethanie,
She is an ocean
Deep, enchantingly blue and a whirlwind of waves.
A sea of vibrant coral to mimic the Autumn sunsets of summer she brightens your day
    - she is, the gush of salted air on a Saturday morning overlooking the horizon you see her in the colours of the waking sky, swirling and dancing in unison to the delicate crash of each wave she laps at your soul, a touch so delicate it resembles petals.

She is a rose,
Beautiful beyond metaphors and an elegant puzzle that would take a lifetime to figure out. Her kindness is enveloped in her pure actions, twisted like the vines of nature she changes in the alternating light that illuminates her laugh to trickle through life, healing even the deepest wounds.

She is a friend,
One so sincere and true in her own voice. A blessing in my life.
A quickly written poem about a lovely friend in my life.
Sitting beneath a tree
With His black bamboo flute
Playing the music of love
Alluring His Beloved to
Come in search of Him
Cows stop its grazing
Becoming statues to
Rapt the divine attention
Peacock dancing madly
For His romantic tunes
Birds passing by stops
And take their seats on
The tree with a silence
Even the scary cobra
Humbly surrendering
Like a magical spellbound
Girls falling for Him
Forgetting their present
But nothing make Him
Stop His music for her
Comes running His Beloved
Like being attracted by a
Magnetic power of love
The music from His flute
Was filled with love, romance
Making every single thing
Deeply rapt in Him
Making her sit by His side
Holding her close to Him
Laid her head on His chest
Closing her wide eyes
Slowly sinking in His love
His hands on her shoulders
Closed his eyes with a smile !
Next page