The face is a war mask And the eyes are made for crying The mouth is poison And the skull a cathedral Dreams are dreamt But are not seen And sleep is slept But is not solid
Blue is the sky Only in day That veils the black of space Blue are the eyes But only in circles That surround the black Of our bodies Blank souls Never hiding
Words like clouds That hold only rain To wash away And souls Like words Are too much alike
It is my theory that we are all connected. From the thread around your finger to the ribbon on her wrist and the rope tightened on my neck. Every action has a consequence, because when you pull on the string; *something unravels.
She wanders, guided by her lost soul. She spills arts, coming from her pure heart; She writes words no one can understand, yet she speaks it like it was kept in her mind for so long, just waiting for someone to find it. She is a masterpiece of her own, but she has a heart of stone.
I like to take a dip in the poetry well when my life seems to be dry I like to take a dip in the poetry well when I question why I like to take a dip in the poetry well when I lost the courage to try something new I like to take a dip in the poetry well when I need encouragement then I get it from you I like to take a dip in the poetry well to ease some anxiety I like to take a dip in the poetry well let my emotions swell I take to take a dip in the poetry well while holding paper and a pen I like to take a dip in the poetry well where inspiration never ends I like to take a dip in the poetry well where I can gather with my friends
This is for All My Hello Poetry Friends!!!! Thank You so much for your friendship and encouragement!!!
I am but willing prey to the wiles of the full grown moon. She guards the night sky... While I patrol these grounds... Grieving over the seconds that have gone too soon.
I am a vessel... all emptied and barren. what once was full, now echoes faint the glories of yesteryears. Afloat still, adrift upon the currents... aimless and sullen.
I am a ghost... haunting no one but my own. Immortalised... Anchored... to a body of mist and haze... Occupying this space where worthy wind had once blown...
I am a beggar offering nothing but my open palms. Hope etched tight into my knackered knuckles and calloused digits. Please... take them in yours... soothe them... grant me your touch, your coveted balm.