It's hard comparing you to art But if you were a painting You would be an abstract A splash of colours A spiral of emotions A series of imagination A whole new perspective A picture no one could fathom That's you You are art
Words, words, words I search for you Permit me to express what I know Engulf me with your power And let me speak The truth shall be free And must be heard.
My tongue is tied I summon you, my Muse For inspiration To speak the truth Justice will be lost And should be found Words are my sword to be heard and make a sound.
Never leave me, my Muse Stay with me as I grow old I need you here In this lonely, treacherous world Where truth must be told Be with me, too Not only in words But of Will and Walk So I can Walk my Talk And be strong and bold
The waves brush my toes to keep me away from the water The sand tickles my feet, as the sun falls into deep slumber The tress groan as its branches and the wind twirl around each other All of these happened as I walk on a beach in a boring afternoon in summer.
The children's feet dropped to a beat as they stomped through the leaves on the ground, The trees let the wind blow their leaves off as they turn from green to brown The night grow longer and colder as the moon calls for winter to come All of these happened in a peaceful day in autumn.
The Christmas lights blinked as merrily as the dancing of the icy cold winds As the sun shies away from the ice covered towns, the moon grinned The snow angels sand beautiful songs, as the lakes and rivers sparkle in glitter, All of these happened in a white chilly winter.
The leaves start to grow back as the trees hummed to a sweet song to the hills, As the sun cheers and smiles brightly, the blue sky remained still The people greet each other on the pavements, as the new bird harmoniously sings All of these happened in a calm and happy morning in spring.
An infant wrapped in ***** sheets No heat to warm his soft cheeks A mother weeps for her mistakes Clutching the baby tight, trying hard not to break
Absurd thoughts crossed the mother's mind What harm could happen if she leaves her baby behind? Never has she wanted to keep him alive A sin she can easily connive
A night full of guilt and regrets Things she wishes to forget If only she was a better mother to him Everything would have never been so grim
Tonight she shall cross the street Walk the pavements of melting sleets Lay the infant down on freezing concrete Turn her back, a sin she would concede
But guilt twisted her stomach as she walks away She feels as if her baby calls for her to stay Conscience compelled her to walk back To the little angel lying on its back
She picked him up and love confounded her "How dare I leave this poor angel? I am such a terrible mother!" She planted a kiss on the baby's face, she then wept for her mistakes Holding the baby in her embrace, little by little, the heartaches dissipate.
I haven't written in a while so forgive me if this poem's a bit off.
Father, father, please don't go I have something to tell you that you don't know I couldn't get past the wires and tubes between me and you As your life slowly drains out of its colorful hue
Father, father, why did you go? When all is unfinished and unresolved I gave you my heart, but you never took it You gave me life but now it's all crooked
Father, father, how can you leave? How can we start over when our hearts are bleeding from the pain you weaved I never told you I have always loved you, as you never did to me I never told you I have forgiven you for everything you did to me
But father, father, please come back Cradle me in your arms, mend my heart that you cracked I want to be a child again, so we can all be fine I love you, Father, because you were mine.
Oh, how cruel a fate it is, To gain hope from void assumptions, For it all amounts to horse ****, But nonetheless it curdles ones imaginations. Guile created from ones own mind. A goal, impossible to attain yet continue to find. If love, beith abstraction illusion. Hope the manifestation of delirium. Oh, high empryn. What love of pure blessedness can your high ruler endow me with, But literary devices which are in my usage, Is simply the context of garbage.
There is only one place that i would like to be Six feet underground With your arms wrapped around me For our love is a love unlike anybody's But a love oh so true That not even death can take it away from me
i used to have a candle in a dark room and words were like moths they thronged the glow of my flames in the haunting darkness that is my mind
ideas used to be like quicksand once I set foot on the soft surface it engulfs me whole taking me to a different place that is my imagination
i used to have a voice i used to write in that voice but i lost it along with everything else i didn't know what to do i used other people's voices i became a different person for a piece of literature i saw the world through the eyes of that person i wrote in their voice i lived their life
and i liked it i didn't want to go back the candle in my mind was nowhere to be seen quicksands didn't take me anywhere special they just made me sink into darkness
I tried to write my story On a blank piece of paper And so i began with Once upon a time Like in fairytales But then i remember That i'm no princess And you're not my knight And there'll never be A happy ending for me So i left it just like that An unfinished sentence On a blank piece of paper Just like all the poems i wrote for you Worthless