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484 · May 2015
Why I Can't Love.
Louisa Coller May 2015
I want to admit the pain I'm suffering, but attention spans don't last too long,
I want to give the world something to remember me, I want to create a stone,
in which my children read to follow on by passing down to future centuries
remembering who I am, but here I am again, sitting all alone feeling like bore.

I don't want to hurt a million hearts in the process of creating machinery of love's heartbeats,
the gears are stuttering like the words out of my mouth, every opening is like a new glitch,
a new broken tool found amongst the metal pipes.

I can say, I am a cheat, a worthless matter, but look, I've noticed why I broke the hearts of him,
he wanted me, I did too, but I was so caught up in my own lies I couldn't tell him the truth,
it hurt too much because in the end I wanted to be loved, but I let lust take over that night,
it blinded me dearly, and choked me until the dawn light, those days I wanted to run and to die,
I just wanted to desperately cry, my friend's palm arose from my shoulder,
this time I knew, I really ****** up this time.

But after five months of the pure misery, of staying up every-night wanting to cry my eyes out,
I found out that I was blessed with love, I saw him walking around, speaking out loud,
his knowledge would spread like a disease, except this time, I want to breathe,
yet I see him walking away, out of my palms into the grey, please don't go away.
I don't want to, feel the pain I felt so much before, maybe this time, it's not meant to end,
please somebody set me free.

I try so hard to fall in love again, but it's so hard to get that spark up, I feel like hiding,
shadowing away, but every time love comes I run away, I don't want to shatter hearts any more,
I am toxic, a demon girl. Please, please, please, I don't want to be this way.
You were the only smile I could feel the warmth, everyone around, but my eyes locked,
locked onto you, you are perfection to my eyes.
Yet the past it crept on in, when I could've grabbed your hand, it pushed me away,
choking my breath, my hands won't stop shaking I'm in such a mess.

I am here everyday, crying inside, please can someone see past my façade,
I am insane, I'm crazy, I am a sicko but somebody love me.
I've been raised to be the perfect woman, and now on, I feel like disasters,
Please don't stereotype my body, my heart it's not the same thing.
I want to write, I want to paint, I want to sing, perform on a stage,
I want to draw every piece, but every drawing, it looks like him or a stranger.
482 · Dec 2016
Evil Genius
Louisa Coller Dec 2016
It's safe to say this world is selfish, so selfish it's almost suffocating,
you could hold your palms out and their eyes shall scatter, whether only
five or five million miles away. This world is so selfish it dare not let you
breathe in peace it would prefer your pants before you pass out but even then
this world is selfish in regards of your eyes they haunt you awake and they haunt
you at night. This world is so suffocating it's almost distorting to the eyes, the way they
hold you by the fingers inside, ripping apart every sacred element of your heart. They'll find
a way to destroy your soul, cookie cutter you into another pointless hobby another pointless day.
This world is interesting, my intellect is breeding begging for more, but the more we explore
the more desperate we become and morals begin to beat our faces in one by one, it *****
because we know this world is selfish. We want to have friends, we want to be friendly.
Popularity and sexuality, it all becomes a torn piece of paper an explosive to the brain.
Take your pictures, pucker your lips as your best friend ***** the man of your
distant pathetic and utter desires, it's almost as if you built this façade but
you can hold your mask up and pretend to be human after all! Isn't that what we always do?
Ha Ha! Laughter it fills up your soul before you remember there was nothing to hold,
how can you live, you ask me this question, but how do you live in this illusion!
Pathetically! How do I live? How do you? I analyse your movements, you
can't even move? Are you the rabbit or Alice? Oblivious or knowing?
Are you sick? Are you well? In this world how can we tell...
We live in a selfish world after all, how can we tell?
Those remembered are those most hated.
This isn't a world, where I want to be.
I would say I'd rather live in my...
distorted and lucid emotional-
WRECK! I HATE HIS FACE.
You know his face, touch it...
After all...

It'll be the last thing I feel before I tell this world to **** it.
463 · Oct 2018
Objectification
Louisa Coller Oct 2018
A warm wool neck filled with pins and needles,
rips a volcanic eruption of string from me.
fixing my china is fun to do but
not with a sledgehammer smashing me in pieces.

An golden ornament is once desired,
Only providing blueprints of a destroyed home.
A flower is fair, beautiful but pure
and even there are days we stare more at the thorns.

Necklaces choking a porcelain doll,
with movements which are dead but a creative mind.
Plotting curiously note after note,
I feel like an object and to you I am one.
It's inspired by Sonnets and Canzone's structures - just a little more simplified;
It always irritates me, the feeling of being mad, upset or even stressed out but sometimes we feel that way and it's okay,
yet for some reason people always think if you are level-headed it's surreal to see you angry, upset or even weak at all.
Stop seeing people like objects; We're alive not dead.
460 · Jul 2019
Lights in The Shadows.
Louisa Coller Jul 2019
Gracefully tender in this world made timeless,
watering my roots when I was left lifeless.
Bloomed petals from your eye’s light,
twisting and turning to hold you tight.
In this moment, we smile for the righteous.
There has been some dark times for some countries in the last few years. I know for some, this isn't the way we wanted to see the world progress and grow. Amongst everything, people are hurt, regardless at the end of the day. Sweet, innocent and righteous people. There are days I can't even bare to look at the truth because of how bad it really has become for some - We can't ignore it though.

We were meant to build one another up and yet we drag each other down in the dirt over and over.

I love, applaud and praise anyone who does their best to stay light-hearted through the dark.
453 · Feb 2018
A Child's Mind
Louisa Coller Feb 2018
Ambitious but ridiculous,
are the first words to think of,
heartfelt ridicule emerges in.

A phrase, a saying from the ones they admire,
A fight or a lie left clouding up their innocent mind.

"I need to protect" is the instinct as they hold on tighter,
but how can a child protect something that wasn't even dying?

Innocence is replaced with fragments of imagination,
but bliss can never be replicated after concealed and pain felt fates.

Lessons and quotations,
stick inside their brain,
moments of dedication, are in droplets of rain.

Find your dreams, write them down inseams,
yet if you miss one thread of the stitching you can't simply,
're-sew' everything there, it has to stay the same,
creating this imperfect game which tortures their brain.

An adult's mind adapts to suffering, pain, and gore.
A child's mind reacts and begs to see no more.
453 · Jun 2015
Love
Louisa Coller Jun 2015
Eyes will always stick.
I see you.
My mind can see you.
I feel so happy.
I love you.
I wish.
I wish you were here.
Come back.
Kiss me.
Don't. Think. Twice.
What are you waiting for?
444 · Nov 2014
Boarding Up.
Louisa Coller Nov 2014
Look at him, he walks so perfectly in the, morning moments,
I don't think he can see what he used to be like to me.
It seemed like, his innocent soul wanted me so much,
and I wanted him so badly back to also join me in hand.

Now I look at him, he's matured, I wonder if it was too much,
he's passed the days that I should be entering.
I probably, ruined most of his days,
which he could have been, flirting and chattering away with girls.
Prettier, smarter and potential I wish I had, but never ever had a chance.

Now I see, I am just a loner in disguise.
I honestly hate the feeling of the air, pushing into my lungs full of despair,
I just simply want to make my way alone again.
But what happened to that boy? The one who spent nights with me on the phone,
it's like he erased himself from life completely.
I just wonder to myself, was it because of me?
Did he feel like he needed to mature?

Because honestly, I don't feel maturity, at all,
it's like he isolated romance on another world.
I know he tries, I know he cares, he tells me a million times a day,
but why do I feel so sickened by how I feel deep inside?
The life of a loner in disguise.
Another poem written a while back, I wrote this beauty depending on the feelings of a relationship with age difference, as mentioned before, I am 16 and my boyfriend is older than me by 2 years, so he is 18. I feel sometimes like our distance and our age adds to us as having a lack of freedom and it saddens me in a sense that I feel like a boarder.
441 · Jun 2018
Short, Long and Ponytail.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
There are three girls walking there,
all with different shades of hair.
One cut short, another long,
my ponytail in the sun.
When I was young, I used to love having my hair in a ponytail; and it hasn’t changed until this day! When growing up, I would often be in the sun, having fun in the garden of my Grandmother’s with my cousin Rosie and our friend who I shall keep unnammed, who we stated was a cousin as well, just because she felt like family.

We were very innocent, wonderful and happy as could be! After all, we were kids, yet it always melted my heart how even though we were as different as can be, we all still loved each other.

We loved pretending, imagining, singing, dancing and often even hurting each other on purpose by placing a seesaw on the top of a hill and waiting for the first one of us to fall off of it! It was hilarious how foolish we were, devious at best.

We were just a bunch of fun-loving kids and I wanted to show our simplistic nature through being inspired by Limerick poetry. It seemed fun, silly and definitely a delight to try!
429 · May 2019
Soldier
Louisa Coller May 2019
Angry, disturbed.
It hurts me to the core.
Ripped, missing,
Parts of History.
You're pain is valid,
But so is mine.

You were hurt,
But you blew off his side.
414 · Sep 2018
Eye Motion
Louisa Coller Sep 2018
Scattered notes from the passive mind,
re-analysed with blissful anticipation,
searching for descriptive ways to be defined.

Imaginative pebble paths give me temptation,
luring my instincts in like a curious cat in the night,
a sinful soul hidden within a blooming carnation.

There are many ways to catch a spark through spite,
I refuse to abandon my kind, gentle morale,
to become a puppet amongst those who refuse to contrite.

When respecting the masterpieces - no matter how small,
fuel awarded amusements I begin to rope in,
leave me crawling but never let me fall.

Cheering, motivation, intelligence and motion,
satisfactions fills me when my eyes are open.
410 · Mar 2018
A Proposal [Poets Wanted]
Louisa Coller Mar 2018
From a poet to another, here is my proposal.
Both a poem, yet offering, and I'm not joking!
Imagine your words written on screen,
well let me tell you my friends, it's not a dream.

I am offering you a 'Little Letter', to share your talent far and wide,
for today I'm starting a brand new project for all of mankind.
We write a poem for someone we knew, or something we hold dear.

Then montage flashes, an actor still, saying your words with passion.
For I ask you, hand in hand,
would you like to be a part of this?

__________

If you have read this far, congratulations!
I just wanted to say, as someone who loves poetry and starting to get into the love of filmmaking. I want to combine our two interests. I am creating a visual, slam poetry montage short film series called 'Little Letters', this series is about poems dear to you, about someone you knew or know and of course topics or objects you treasure dearly.

If you want to take part, feel free to email me at: louisacoller@outlook.com.

If not email, feel free to send me a facebook inbox: https://www.facebook.com/LouisaColler

I can't wait to start working with you amazingly talented people.
I am accepting poets to come and help write the series (you will be credited), as well as any potential actors (West Midlands location).
382 · Jun 2018
Horns.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
Just like Lucifer you fell down,
painting horns attached to your crown,
breaking my heart in a small town,
before heading to the showdown.

Your wings have never looked so sharp,
I tip-toe away from the scarp,
Frantically looking around,
before heading to the showdown.

I was good and I gave my best,
you kept staring, hurting my chest ,
my new friend's homes in a ghost town,
before heading to the showdown.

I dropped my weapons at the fight,
Can't we finally make this right?
the devil comes with a count down,
before heading to the showdown.
Sometimes you can watch the destruction of good people. It’s not always fun.  Sometimes when we learn bad things about someone we love we become disgusted, emotional and over-the-top.

I think that we all make mistakes. I think people should be forgiving, but I do know, there is a fine line of ‘mistakes’ and ‘forgiveness’ when you know that person won’t listen to you.
It’s tragic because sometimes you just have to wait for them to realise on their own accord or you watch as others pick at that until they’re completely mentally destroyed because they refuse to acknowledge their faults and get help.

I always offer the best I can and sometimes that’s not enough. I can’t do anything about that.

I wanted to follow the themes of a devil for this poem as I felt it fitting almost with Christianity and the bible overall with the story of Lucifer. He was the best, did the best he could and then just one day turned on everyone and fell out of the sky. It was almost terrifyingly accurate to many people in life – one moment they are someone adored, the next moment you find out they’ve been doing a lot of horrid things behind closed doors.

I decided to pick “before heading to the showdown” as a repetitive line in this poem as I felt that when you are someone who has done wrong, you panic and anticipate for the moment someone discovers what you did, sometimes people get that feeling simply from how anxious they are and overall, sometimes, good people get it when realising they have to confront the truth before them. A showdown is an overall metaphor for the ‘big callout’, the revealing of what that person has done and their fight for their life.

A lot of people admittedly forget when someone does something illegal, they will always have a defendant of some kind to defend what they did, no matter how bad. Making it an even showdown.

Sometimes people also attempt to ‘callout’ while being in the wrong, having the whole thing twist around and focused on them instead.

For this poem, I tried to write using Kyrielle, it was definitely interesting, a little difficult admittedly, but it was quite easy to get used to as you go along.
377 · Apr 2019
Self-Harm.
Louisa Coller Apr 2019
Heartbeats; Rapid Pulse,
Pulling my back side to side.
Whines; High Irritation,
How do I express my mind?
A light mark is better than blood,
yet my mind still begs me to cut.
A poem I made while resisting urges of self-harm.
376 · Jun 2018
Different.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
abnormal in thought, perfect in action
    2. people both love me and hate me
    3. I come in all shapes and sizes
    4. I’m kind of like one, but not the other
    5. Sometimes you try to see me.

Do you know what I am?
Different.
When finishing my art course, I saw some options, stay in my home town with my family and either work or take a new course or move away to pursue something else.

I realistically didn’t want to go to a big university. I feel I need someone’s guidance a little more when learning and in a room with over 500 different students all trying to do the same, it becomes difficult. So I stayed and was offered to join a Digital Film Production course. I loved the idea! I love art, music, I genuinely adored animation too, so I thought why not dust off film and give it a shot?

I didn’t actually initately like film when I considered enrolling, which leads to people to most likely scream ‘Why did you take this risk then?’, because I wanted to. I wanted to learn about it, even if I originally didn’t care. I wanted to learn something different.

When arriving at my course, I made friends with some unique characters. Some different to many others I’ve ever met before. It was a relief.

People often try too hard to either be different or fit in. It’s really not worth the time. It’s best to be who you want to be in reality and for me, it was tough to get a grip of that initately until I met these people.

They showed me that what we like, shapes us. We become what we adore, hate, fear etc. We’re all pretty unique, but in being unique itself, makes us the same. So when we define what is ‘different’ to what is ‘normal’, what do we say?

The only time someone seems different to you is because of the following:
    • They are mentally different
    • They are physically different
    • They liked things you originally would have liked, not liked or don’t know of.
...and a lot more at that!

It’s a really complicated topic to think about.
I think in reality, it’s just better to not lie about what makes you unique. Find things you like yourself, express how much you like those things or want to do those things! Imitating isn’t always bad, since imitation is what teaches us a lot of things in life but never feel afraid to add your own extra spice of individuality to what you do.

So this poem I was looking into the idea of following the structure of a Riddle, I didn’t originally intend for the numbered parts of the poem, but I thought the list structure added to it.
367 · Sep 2018
Autumn Wings
Louisa Coller Sep 2018
Tender crimson leaves,
shade the tiny, tired fairy,
masking her flowerbed.
363 · Nov 2018
Kisses
Louisa Coller Nov 2018
Kisses are delicate.
Never waste them.
I promise you that.
Something I wrote in 2013.
363 · Jun 2018
Long and Ponytail.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
We had moments of sunshine that fuelled our laughs,
that stay there stuck in photographs.
A short hairstyle fit for a queen,
who’ll be dancing perfectly to eighteen.
It’s you and me now, long hair girl,
our emotions are slowly becoming unfurled.

We know she had perfect reasons to leave,
We know we were almost too naive.

Small ginger curls won’t run outside anymore,
no more trips with our friend to the store.
It’s concrete, the damage he has done to us both,
destroying  the bond we shared by oath.
We loved each other,
there’s no need to suffer.

We know she had perfect reasons to leave,
We know we were almost too naive.
Who would know, we’d reach this age without one another?
Who would know, we’d have a war to uncover?
We were weak, but that’s not our faults dear,
we were just young and filled with cheer.
But we’ll keep strong, he may have lied,
but I will always keep you by my side.

We know she had perfect reasons to leave,
We know we were almost too naive.
It was a few years after, we were in our mid years as teenagers, they were both 14? I was roughily around that age myself. Me and Rosie’s friend had came out to some personal stuff and the long story short, she had to leave, taking her two sisters with her.

It destroyed me for a long time, not having her or her sisters around. They were a huge part of our life. Admittedly, the said friend, had a lot of people not a 100% happy with her or for her, but when she told me what had happened, I understood completely, almost too well for our age.

I haven’t actually spoke or seen her sisters since and it’s heartbreaking. She, herself, I haven’t spoken to much, and I fear sometimes I might be a trigger for her emotional feelings. Knowing that, can be really saddening.

It’s just a shame that one person’s bad actions, could split up a group of happy young kids, who just wanted to be there for one another and love one another.  It was overall, just a tragedy how we stopped speaking properly. I hope one day I can speak to her again in honesty, I do miss her greatly, but sadly life has not given me that opportunity yet, maybe I just got to keep knocking on more doors.

I am happy that her coming out about her personal struggles did encourage other people I knew to come out about their struggles as well – including myself. I am grateful for her impact.

This poem’s form is mostly in similarity to a Lyric poem; These types of poems are extremely personal and in honesty it was a first-hand try of this poem type and I do think I got the feeling behind the poem correctly.
358 · Sep 2015
Her
Louisa Coller Sep 2015
Her
I've seen a beautiful angel, she saved me, we're perfect together.
I'm standing in the battlefield, flowers surround the corpses
I will step every second,looking for the lost soul.
When I am fighting, I feel my power growing over my timid heart.
I will fight for it, I will fight for her, I won't give up, I won't surrender.
358 · Jan 2023
All I Want
Louisa Coller Jan 2023
Just think of me,
That's all I want.
357 · Nov 2015
Birth.
Louisa Coller Nov 2015
Late but better than ever a young girl's eyes opened,
Opening to a world of inspiration, interpretation and love.
Unique to the eye at first sight I investigate my surroundings,
I wonder even to this day what my first thought must have been.
Simple but sweet a baby can be to everyone around,
all surrounded the Father's first and only daughter.
352 · Aug 2016
Regret.
Louisa Coller Aug 2016
The mindset of a summer kiss left upon the memories of you,
suffocate me individually in the consciousness every second.
You and I were a terrible mix, we thought we were perfect.
You and I were terrible at maintaining, and I was constantly fearful.

When lit eyes locked mine into an abyss-like stare,
I presumed the moment would go on.
When your hand left mine in a hopeful glare,
It began to feel like the last one.

Corruption, manipulation, ruptures and screams came,
but everyone presumed it was just me.
But now I look back upon that angel,
she was warning me.

My lips sealed tightly with another man thinking I was right,
little did I know this man was only in love with me for the night.
When he grabbed me close, I felt relieved,
as if love had came back to life.
While he sobbed sweet tears,
thinking on why I left him that night.

It came clear to me that I didn't grasp love,
if anything I shattered it to pieces.
Presuming love was a sweetest of cupcake,
without added ingredients.

But after years of silence, isolation and thought it occurred to me,
ever since that night his mind laid on me like a burden for a time.
Temptations to move on, girls laying upon me, seducing me simply,
everything you wanted, sugar and warmed hearts, which I denied.

For after all this time we came back eye to eye,
to find out when we left we hurt each other a little more inside.
Secrets we stay, hopefully not remain as we spend the nights,
for you see,
You and I were a perfect mix, when we thought all was lost.
You and I were a perfect mix, my illness lied to us.
348 · Jul 2018
Ribbons
Louisa Coller Jul 2018
Reliability hurts us as it cradles our childhood vices,
dreams blurred and forgotten while the nightmares crept.
I gaze at all my friends while they begin to count their prices,
bags of dust, unsaturated gazes follow - I haven't slept,

My smiles have no eyes, only crosses and scribbles.

We feel empty inside as we stare at our devices,
an infinite hoop of dazed talks as the night grows and I wept.
It's what we get for making sacrifices,
I had a golden opportunity and I overslept.

My smiles have no eyes, only crosses and scribbles,
weakened wrists, deprived energy while I tighten the ribbon.
344 · Jun 2017
Clarity
Louisa Coller Jun 2017
When the morning winds press on my cheeks I feel content but not full.
When I decide on something more my self-doubt alongside darkness overtakes my mind in a crippling spiral removing my motivation and adoration infinitely.

Yet whenever I encounter something fresh as well as pure to the eye it grasps my eyes for its beauty, for our standards bring us reputations but a lack of satisfactory.

When I notice the love within the air my heart beats in suffering and knowledge that I myself will not be sharing that moment as my spouse is away from my side yet it comes to my realisation that I give them higher hopes than myself which is what love is, isn't it?

I return to the mindset of an endless pain yet now I must admit to myself, will pain bring me any pleasure or just a lifetime of anguish?

For I stand alone but I stand with a smile, pride ruling over my side but a sin that is not sinful but simply delightful.
342 · Jun 2018
Patience.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
Patience
left forgotten
undervalued today
what would I give to have patience
cared for
Patience is a cinquain poem themed around the concept of patience in life. I am quite impatient and I am learning to appreciate it a little more.

Many people really don’t realise that, their skills aren’t to blame, they aren’t to blame, they just need to be patient to let their talents unfold or be picked upon.

Patience can often give you moments of self-analysing and self-love that you need. It can also make you appreciate the world around you a lot more. Simply being alone outside itself, can make you feel a little better in yourself – especially around sunset, because then you can watch the colours changing in the sky too!

I know that we are all impatient in getting what we need done, because for some of us, we’re scared we might never finish it before, you know, we ‘go’.  It makes sense, people want to do the best they can in life, others might get frustrated and give up, thinking because they’ve reached a certain age, a certain point there is no point in attempting to mend the broken road. I can’t exaggerate enough, how utterly wrong they are. I used to be like that, I too thought because I couldn’t socialise properly by a certain age, because I confessed to my mental issues later in life, that I, too, myself, would be in a struggle forever. It’s not like that.

You can still fight back for your life.
342 · Jun 2018
Art
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
Art
When you start as an artist, people assume,
that talent begins when you pick up the pencil,
how wrong they were to think that beginning,
was the beginning of my artistic thought-process.

Every bricks texture on the wall, appealed me,
the textures feel different, it's strangely addicting,
when the television light flashes into your face,
media inspires, media creates.

I was born with a wire attached to my brain,
but I can still unplug and refresh myself again.

For art is all around in different shapes and forms,
whether you agree or not - I love it all.
341 · May 2015
His Name
Louisa Coller May 2015
There has always been a sweet connection cord,
this connection is powered by my heart strings' voice,
He sits there in my empty void of a mind, all alone.
I wish, he would see himself, the way I can see him there,
he's perfect from the top of his hair to his smallest toes.
He can be so wonderfully beautiful, it ruptures my heart so lovingly,
I see him there, I know he cares about me, which means the world to me.
He's always by my side, he always is there, even when it's so dark,
I can't see a soul around me, except these shadows which curse me.
But in the daylight, I'll clench his palm so tightly like a child,
I will kiss his lips, I'll mean every word and pray...
A poem I wrote for this page: https://www.facebook.com/lovelymomentsforever?fref=ts#
326 · Oct 2018
Intimacy
Louisa Coller Oct 2018
curled, twisted with naked hearts
lights coated on loving figures
jigsaw lips, darkness.
323 · Jun 2018
Daisy Chains.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
I
hear birds
while I sit
in the sunlight
making daisy chains,
until I am tired.
t took me ages to learn to make daisy chains, but when I did, it was when I had became rather uncomfortable with socialising with other children since Mr.Man . In a way, it’s beautiful how I could find love in the simplistic of things, like textures on a wall, leaves, daisies and I even used to love sitting under a big  tree solely because these squishy berries would fall (I didn’t eat them! Don’t worry!).

I used to sit down in the corner of a field most days of my childhood away from the other children, I didn’t speak much and I would often diverse my attention into ‘preparing a decorated fence’, by decorated fence, I mean, I used to pick berries, leaves and such and place them on this fence boarding  the school and believe I was decorating it for someone, I had no idea who for, but it was fun.

I was aiming to try a simple Teractys for the first time in this poem, it was so sweet, I absolutely loved writing it, it felt very right with the bright sunshine outside of my window. The feeling of innocence really streamed through this one and I honestly loved it.
323 · Jun 2018
Paper.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
People aren’t fun, but paper is
I enjoy the feeling of writing on it
I learn to draw, day by day
People aren’t fun, but paper is
So I bring more paper by midday
I enjoy the feeling of writing on it
One thing my family and many others hated about me when I was younger was not that I loved art and wanted to draw, but more or less how unorganised I was; I would throw paper on the floor, practically grab any paper I could find and claim it as my own and it got to a point my family hid paper from me, but it was hilarious because I would always find it.

When you start off with your talents as a child, it’s quite beautiful how they can comfort you. I was very sheltered, not one for talking but I loved drawing for myself and others who would ask. Art always gave me a sense of comfort, it almost felt like days I wouldn’t have anyone around me, I would not be bothered because... I had art.

I also mentioned I loved writing on it, when young I was often given assignments from the school to write in a theme or re-write previous literature, it was insane the types of things I could do as a child regarding stories. I suppose I always had a love for writing, I just never really realised it was there, I just did it.
This poem’s form was Triolet, this quite similar to Limerick that I used in Music Notes for its repetition, but I do think the simplicity of it, does still add to that childish nature I had as a kid.
317 · Jun 2018
Lover To Another.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
One look, they’re a lover by the shine in their eye,
that glistening light gives me a dopamine high.
It takes a moment, an analytic check,
otherwise leave their heart in a wreck.
You will have to stand still while you hear the cry,
but he’ll forget about it later with his hand on your thigh,
you feel the panic rush over you as you say goodbye.
A stranger beside you gives your lips a peck,
One look, they’re a lover.
As bricks keep coming in, you look like a bad guy,
rinsing your hair darkened by the black dye.
He throws you gifts with his paycheck,
you know deep down - bad check,
One look, they’re a lover.
One thing I won’t deny about my younger years, I was a bit of a player when I finally got the ball rolling. I wasn’t ‘extremely attractive’, but I was charismatic, which lead people into my life quite easier. People loved me, it was weird, but it wasn’t due to fame, it was due to not really knowing how to convey love itself.

Let’s be real, how many of us as kids went: ‘I want a girlfriend who I will love!’? To then realise, wait, no you don’t, you didn’t think of the ‘long-run’ you thought of the ‘now’ and how much fun you could get out of that thrill of being with someone.

Despite the ‘thrill’ a lot of times when people began to get a lot more ‘personal’ I would not pursue, I would often back down or not let it escalate that far. I was terrified of being in that situation and sometimes, still am to this day.

When you can play hearts, people come to think of you as the ‘bad boy’, sort of stereotype; People see you as a heartbreaker and in a way, they wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve definitely broke plenty of hearts in the past, but I think there were times it reversed back on me and backfired badly. A lot of the time being a ‘player’ consists of who can leave who first hanging more than ‘let’s genuinely make this work’.

There are times being a player you would even advance onto Strangers romantically rather easily.

The black hair dye is to reference how entering my earlier teens I was very much into the 2000s ‘emo’ trend of dying your hair black, saying you are ‘edgy’ and all this and that and sometimes it’s just funny to look back on. I definitely was an emotional kid and I just often didn’t know how to express it and I think I saw the emo subculture as a way to express my inner feelings.

So many guys bought me gifts, it was actually insane. I mostly would receive games if anything, but you’d be shocked how much someone would do for you if you have them wrapped around your finger. Admittedly, today, I probably wouldn’t do that, I just think it was a bit cruel how I used to almost play these people’s feelings and they would give me everything they had and it just wasn’t ‘enough’ because they never had a chance to begin with. They were definitely deep in the friendzone.

Now I’m more independent when it comes to relationships with people, I try my best to give as much to them as they give me or more, solely because I don’t want someone to feel like I am using them just for money, because in the end money isn’t love, it never is and never was.

The beautiful part about the ending is when you show affection and interest in someone who doesn’t reflect those interests, it captures a player’s attention like ‘I could easily get everyone else, why is this different?’ and it links into Shades of Blue a bit, which will be later on in the book.

This poem’s form follows the structure of a Rondeau which is a rather short poem, but it definitely was fun to write, it was interesting to see what I could do with the limitation of words but I think also including those words into things that reflect on my past was the biggest challenge.
313 · Jun 2018
Ponytail.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
I'm concealed right now,
as my hair is ******* tight.
I saw her letter,
it crept a smile in my life,
sincerely long hair and bun.
Me and the long hair female (my cousin), do speak, but we had a disagreement. I wasn’t happy when we last properly spoke and then education came swarming into my life – distracting me pretty badly.

Soon enough my Father’s birthday came around and to our surprise we heard in the card to us, she was pregnant.

I spent many of my years protecting my cousin, I cared dearly for her and I even made my first picture motion video about her being a remake of the popular UGLY pmv video itself on YouTube due to her not feeling confident in herself.

She’s actually a year younger than me, so this is a big situation in highlight, I can’t help but feel conflicted from knowing there are many stresses she will have to undergo as a young mother, but I know even aside our disagreement, I love my cousin and I’m always there for her and I want to see her become the best mother she can to her child.
During this time, myself, I would’ve imagined things differently, I was expecting to get married and be with my partner happily, but as shown in prior poems it didn’t always work out for me – so I do hope it works out the best for her.  

This was another Tanka inspired poem.
302 · Feb 2019
Trigger
Louisa Coller Feb 2019
Why do you rush
Through my soul
Like a bullet
Waving in
But not
Out
299 · Jun 2018
Welcome Home.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
I walked into the new room of my home,
the painted trees guided me towards my bed,
I lay down looking up to the ceiling smiling,
the dark walls are painted in white.
A somewhat attempt of an epigram? It may have not been the best, a lot of them do revolve around satire, however I wanted to go with the smart approach and show how the change in a room’s appearance can really help your state.

My room used to be dark. I used to have walls that were essentially dark brown (painted), dark curtains and pretty much a lot of dark tones. Recently, we revamped the whole room and painted it white. I came to notice how the white room gave me such positive energy, it made me feel quite happy, awake and overall gave a feeling of comfort.

I always saw trees as a comfort since a child. When I wasn’t talking to others, I would be nearby trees almost just examining them, staring at the leaves, the shapes... I was a bit of an oddball, but it was a huge comfort. I even had one tree I would leave little flowers around and notes. So yes, essentially even at one point I had a favourite tree. It was a willow, by the way.

So trees have always given me a sense of hope, freedom and love. So having painted trees on your walls, can have the feeling you are in a little forest happy as can be.

White, black and red have always been favourites of mine throughout life – Most likely because of Snow White but, I also just admired the colour-scheme. Even in make-up I would wear my light foundation, red lips and the black eyeliner. I feel geisha make-up partly inspired this.

In reality, my bed is almost like a comfort zone. It’s not bad to have breaks to lay down. When you have moments you need to cool-off or relax, a bed is a good comfort – maybe short-term, but not long-term of course. I am hoping to aim to try and get out a little more. It’s a big step for a sheltered individual like myself, but I know it’d be better in the long-run.
Louisa Coller Nov 2014
May the fourth I was born, I didn't open my eyes,
the doctors and my mother worried out of their minds.
I promised her in my heart even though,
I couldn't hear her, that I would open my eyes and heart for her.
They opened but then, my skin it turned to shreds.
I open my heart for you, please don’t leave me.
I love you my mummy so, so please don’t leave me.

I began to grow believing there was a man,
who would guide me through life until I die and welcome me home.
Then I saw that it wasn't truth, it was only belief,
a belief I was told to know.
I open my heart for you, please don’t leave me.
I swear I prayed to you, but you didn't listen.

I ran through the trees, the winds blew against my skin,
I swear to life and all the scientific feelings, that I was free.
I open my heart for you, please set me free,
let the world of curiosity and wonderful stars seep,
seep my life into purpose which I will see,
you may not believe, but I always will.
Believe.
I wrote this today.
As a way to run away with myself in my imagination.
295 · Mar 2018
Numbers
Louisa Coller Mar 2018
A plastered note covers my eyes,
a girl is there with a gentle smile.

Today my wounds were on display,
everyone saw my wounded face.

But I felt a pat instead of a hit,
my heart is filled with sprinkles of gleam.

For now I'm a face, a heart to love.

I'm not a number anymore.
293 · Sep 2023
Blissfully Aware.
Louisa Coller Sep 2023
All you need is a lingering touch,
Suffocating breath,
Lasting eyes locked.

Sometimes you need a charming smile,
A ***** mind,
Breaths intertwined.

A gentle hug, worth more than a million kisses,
A physical touch, begging for more than this,
An illicit affair coated in bliss.
291 · Jun 2018
Shades of Blue.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
He laughed in front of us both, it was heavenly,
for us three friends having days filled with fun.
His personality shared a feeling of complexity,
It was the first time cupid had won.

Emerald eyes scan his screen,
as we talk more anticipatingly.
I had hoped my confession would not intervene,
for his love was with another strangling me intimidatingly.

For she hoped the best but love always finds it’s way,
they had split apart, I feel I was partly to blame.
But our love felt almost like broadway,
leading to a well known nickname.

We held each other close, we were finally together,
Blue t-shirts mixed with the smell of leather.
I fell in love. It was definitely love, how did I know? Everything he said I remembered, with a memory as bad as can be, everything we did together just felt in perfect harmony. We would laugh, play games and it felt really nice, to have someone to talk to through it all.

We told one another all our secrets. But, when I did fall in love, I decided not to act on that love as he was dating someone else. I genuinely never thought they’d break up, I really didn’t want them to because they seemed so happy, I even did my best to help the girlfriend when I could when she herself, wasn’t feeling too good.

Soon enough, she and him split up, but it was clear I was in love with him. I accidentally told him. You know when people fakingly say “Oh oops! I didn’t mean to send that!” I told him that what happened years later, but in reality, no. It didn’t happen like that.

I had accidentally told him I liked him because our third friend was aiming his hardest to split them both up so he could get with his girlfriend, which was admittedly disgusting in my opinion. You shouldn’t attempt to split up a couple for the benefit of your own ego; I don’t get people who do that.

If you really love someone, you’d always want the best for them.

He discovered I liked him as I was sending evidence of the plan our third friend had placed because I had jokingly stated “Haha! I’ll take _____ then!” and... well yeah. He was just honestly flattered.

Soon enough, I came to realisation that many years after my love for the colour blue most likely originated from meeting him and many others. Hence the title.

This was an attempt of a Shakespearen Sonnet layout, however I do think I could’ve done a lot better with this one as a first attempt admittedly.
291 · Mar 2018
Poke at it.
Louisa Coller Mar 2018
Caitlyn picked up a stick,
what can she poke with it?
Up an down the streets she'd go,
wondering what she can poke.

The grizzly bear slept tight,
next to the bunny in the sunlight.

Caitlyn poked the bunny's home,
but the grizzly bear is finally awoke.
289 · May 2018
The Rant
Louisa Coller May 2018
"I don't like it, do it again!",
she spouts and hurls out to her men.

"It's different, abnormal, strange you see!",
that's what he shouted at me.

Why must someone be in such need to yell?
Well can't you tell?

They complain and complain until they finally zip up,
come on now! Don't be such tough luck!
It's different! It's strange? Something new you scream!

I have a little word for you,
called 'individuality'.
Why when a group of people share one singular opinion, they refuse to acknowledge another, even when they disagree?
287 · Jan 2019
The Border.
Louisa Coller Jan 2019
The time on the clock ticks fast,
you hear them shattering glass.
Explosive sounds in night,
Small hands hold on you tight.
"Don't forget us when it's passed”.
This poem was written to be sent to Hungry Hill Writing for their 'Poets meet Politics' competition; I have wrote three poems for this competition; This is the second entered; The title is quite self-explanatory, this is about the border of Ireland.
283 · Jan 2019
Politics (Open Mind).
Louisa Coller Jan 2019
You need to know that
our politics isn't broken
think differently
This poem was written to be sent to Hungry Hill Writing for their 'Poets meet Politics' competition; I have wrote three poems for this competition and this is the third one; This poem is simply to say Politics itself isn't something broken, we simply don't always or if relate to the people we have in power. We should never look down on something where we can speak proudly about how we feel or believe in something - but we are also allowed to disagree with statements too.
275 · Feb 2018
Bathroom.
Louisa Coller Feb 2018
Many people may be shocked when I say this,
but I spent my life in a bathroom.

I remember day one, they told me,
"Don't be insecure, get up and go".
I took a breath and asked politely;
"Please may I go?" as I skipped on my way.

But one day it didn't go my way,
in fact, it was a mess in more than one way.
I smiled politely as she shut me up tightly, so I sat there silently.
And away I went anyway, but with embarrassment all over me.

Whispers and ambitions as my small self-awaited, the birthday queen yet trapped the whole day, I stumbled and fell and stood in the stall, refusing to show my face, as the giddy giggles, the notes, and the scribbles were passed for two whole days.

Then the parties, the drunken states, the boy's lips, the lights and daze, the moment of freedom, yet trapped all the same.
I'd make my way to that very same place, standing and staring anticipating and glaring before violently sprinting away.

Then the moment that smashes you open, the moments that remind you of your emotionless moments, the one day you chose not to stay in the way was the one day death takes your place, he struts and glares down the way to enter a bathroom in joy.

But here I stare and wonder at what would happen if I came too.

But now I access a simple bathroom, anytime, any day any moment, but because of that day the one that I missed, she remains a memory and not a face.

It might sound weird, but I spent my life in a bathroom,
admiring the textures, the floors, the technical.
But if there was one thing I'd do,
trade every day for the one I wasn't.
271 · Mar 2018
Irrelevant.
Louisa Coller Mar 2018
Stares are made towards fame,
but how many hearts are crushed?

Singly taken one by one,
until I am one of them.
I started my own little poetry book where I try to write a poem everyday or at least try to on most days. This is the second one I wrote.
257 · Sep 2023
Toy
Louisa Coller Sep 2023
Toy
She tells me,
"You're not a toy to be played with".
But for him,
I really am.

To be stretched thin,
Thrown and screamed for and most of all
Broken and left for the wolves.
253 · Aug 2018
Comeback Temptation.
Louisa Coller Aug 2018
Pitiful angel, fallen in the dark.

I feel your wings flutter onto my cheeks so rough,
your horns of a demon, it hurts so much.
You swore you’d stay with me, not ever deserting me.
Please to god, stay with me until we both fade.

We are fiction in the real world of pain, we see everything real,
we can’t feel a single thing.
I don’t want to screech out to those who are blind and deaf,
because nobody seems to sense the inner pain, that worsens.

The artificial comfort, the falls into our palms,
we pray and suffer because we don’t know how to live without god.
I know that in my heart, I feel warmth and grace, but it is shattered,
glass placed in my name.
Worrisome children, run the streets to death.

We are fiction in the real world of pain, we see everything real,
we can’t feel a single thing.
I don’t want to screech out to those who are blind and deaf,
because nobody seems to sense the inner pain, that worsens every day.
That worsens every day.

I can’t bare to look in your eyes, they are colder than the sky,
I can’t bare to look at your lips, for all the lies I’ve missed.
Another older poem I decided to post up.
248 · Aug 2019
Guilty Love Letter
Louisa Coller Aug 2019
A man of your past is so desirable,
You write love letter stories to this day.
Yet your lover of the present is here,
will you write them anything again?
245 · Jun 2022
Lady of Bloom
Louisa Coller Jun 2022
Beauty blossoming on display,
Emerging grace from elegancy.
Creative sparks illuminating us,
Kingdoms born from illicit loves.
You're an inspiration to me.
240 · Jun 2018
Immortality.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
Our eyes are widened in glee or terror,
are we breathing or thinking? We can’t tell.
We are stepping out after each error,
Infinite skies, stars, coated in pastel.

We are remembered through words we have wrote,
or we have beaten the impossible.
I know many people can sink a boat,
thriving on words of unsuasible.

We colonise places to call our homes,
springing up more life we believed couldn’t grow.
Needing to go beyond our garden gnomes,
Our home maybe, but we need to outgrow.

A real race against time after all?
There are two minutes before the befall.
A poem very close to home for me and potentially many others. Immortality is talked about as many things, the stage after death where we become immortalised in a purified form, a stage in which we could never die or being known to never die from the second death.

It’s often known that Stephen Hawking a genius by human nature, warned humanity that we may have 600 years to leave Earth. In many different interviews, articles and such, he’ll go on to his reasonings why. I agree wholeheartedly.We as a population are increasing like never before, that’s not a bad thing entirely, but it does mean for the case of our species’ survival we need to go beyond our home – or at least that’s my personal belief.

We could be up against the biggest thing we’ve ever came across. One of these things being A.I and the advancements of the future ahead. We can not also forget the changes in the planet.
It’s a lot to take in.
237 · Feb 2019
Romance
Louisa Coller Feb 2019
My heart is in awestruck,
Face hidden amongst bedsheets,
They all smell like you.
237 · May 2018
My Dearest Aunt
Louisa Coller May 2018
My dearest aunt,

I shall greatly miss you in physical form,
but I know you'll always be here in my family and I's hearts.

Susan is a beautiful woman, through looks and personality.
When I was young until this day, I could always rely on her.

I still fondly remember the days we would bake, joke and eventually drag my Mother into baking at night.

My aunt will always be in our family's hearts.
This is more or less, a written piece, for my aunt who passed away a few weeks ago, yesterday (17th of May) was her funeral. I was absolutely devastated, but I had the opportunity to stand up and talk about her.

When I did, I started crying and admittedly, my entire family felt the emotion in my voice.
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