Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
She rolls out of bed, with a feeling of shear dread.
How can she face today when she feels so dead?

A crying voice inside takes over her mind.
She needs to rewind.
The tears stream down her face.
As she whimpers she feels a disgrace.

Nobody wants to know, nobody cares that she's in despair.
But she just needs to repair.

She won't talk, she's afraid that people will walk.
Bottling it up she tries not to sob.
The despair all over, It lies and controls her.
But she doesn't understand why an that's why she cries.

She doesn't realise she's not the only one.
She needs to hold on and stay strong.
Am I a true writer
if I can't put my love
for the moon
into
words?
 Aug 2014 The Quiet Poet
Sia Jane
imagine;*

peace, a place in space,
for noise,
for surrendered souls,
yet unwilling to admit,
wrongs,
misgivings, distrust,
slander, lust
thrusting pain,
disdain,
lying lame, dormant
inferiority complex(es),
transferred,
disturbed.

(thirteen)

ego, self-will,
willful ******,
pertinacious
resistance,
unrelenting
tireless
forces,
evil, cunning
retrieval
of, emptied
hearts,
of hands,
tied.

(thirteen)*

© Sia Jane
the sparkle of your dove-grey eyes
is lost in those tears; do not cry,
for nothing good happens at four a.m.,
nestle, wait, the sun will rise again.

star-spangled blackness is only
worthwhile when it shrouds dreams,
so wipe your cheeks and dredge up
a smile; find some self love

even if it is only in shreds --
I promise you're not better off dead.
it only seems so in heavy night,
star-child, you are far too bright

to let yourself be crushed or lost:
though easy, defeat bears a cost,
so pull up a laugh, and those covers;
do not weep for past or present lovers.

do not give your mind over to pain,
believe me, you are not to blame
for all the wrongs upon this world,
you are no god, just a heavenly girl,

so don't give up; soon the morning
will rise, a new hope is dawning
every day: will you seize this one
and shed the fear of what's to come?

please ignore as the voices wail
that you were only born to fail;
they're liars, with no life but
what you give them, don't give up.

so go to bed, comfort is allowed,
tuck yourself in, darling i'm proud
of you; one more day you've survived
and against all odds you're so alive.

*© Tara India.
 Aug 2014 The Quiet Poet
Tatiana
Hello sadness,
that comes and flows
like dark waters
full of rip tides.

I'm worlds away
drowning in the waters,
that are deep and churning,
i'm struggling to come back up.

I see the light that is the surface,
the only thing that keeps me swimming,
instead of sinking to the bottom,
like a rock.

A rock that has been carelessly thrown into the water,
never looked at,
never discovering the crystals within,
for they wouldn't rub away the dirt.

It's the light that's inside that pushes me upwards,
it prevents me from drowning.
It's the light on the surface that is my goal.
It's the light that gives me hope.

And hope makes me float.

I break free of the waters that held me back
and I want to join the light
as it dances on the surface,
asking me to dance with it.

Now I dance above the waters
that wanted to drown me.
But they are still there,
never leaving.

The waters won't leave me,
they're just waiting for me
to fall into their grip.
Their cold, tight grip.

But to me, it's okay.

For if there is one thing I learned,
is that if there is light dancing above the water,
I should swim upwards,
and join it.

For hope will always keep me afloat,
*even in the darkest waters.
I started this poem in the month of May. The only thing I had was the very first line, "Hello sadness" I have been reading through some poems lately and I noticed Timothy's poem "Depression" and I went straight to these two words and I just wrote. It's interesting what inspires you sometimes... Anyways, here is the poem that inspired me, http://hellopoetry.com/poem/816288/depression/ and I would like to say this to Timothy: Thank you for being an inspiration and a wonderful person to talk to whether it be about poetry or about problems. I hope that you're bout of depression passes quickly and I hope that maybe this poem shines a little bit of light on you and encourages you to dance with the light again. :) I also would like to say to the rest of you're little family: Hilda and Marian, you are wonderful people and I wish the same for the both of you, that you always continue to dance in the light and hang on to the hope and the happiness that is in your lives. :) For all three of you are a huge inspiration to me.
And to everyone else that reads my poems: You are all inspirations too, for if it wasn't for any of you, I wouldn't have kept writing, and on that note... You all will have to get used to me again because I'm back and I don't plan on going anywhere soon. :p <3
He builds robots
with his bare hands.
He takes the wrenches
and the electronics
and the nuts and bolts
and makes out of nothing
Something.

And even though I don’t even know him.
I think I may love him a bit.

I think about
How he puts things together that weren’t connected ever before.
Fixing that which is broken
Or unmade
Or seemingly unfixable.
And proving the world wrong when this man-made machine
is just as alive as the rest of us.

The discarded
are made
into something with a renewed sense of purpose.
Proving recycling as a totally viable concept
[and not just a fad hippies whine about]
Right before your very eyes.

And as I watch him explain
High level mechanics
to the English majors like me,
I think about my broken heart
and the inability to truly love anyone in the last five years of my life
And I think

Maybe
There’s someone out there
Who can finally fix that.
Seriously, Robotics are ****.
Next page