my yellow
basket went
mash and
my tissue
twinges thee
there on
ring but
bard in
mine 'twas
graft that
mud came
a peace
fulfillment that
didn't regret
intake of
grizzly and
movable feast
My heart
feels like it ran
a marathon
I am
in my
t facing
y   o   u
Our hearts beat in perfect harmony
A beautifully orchestrated
Rhythmic melody
Of a love that never ceases
To grow
But glistens with time
Like the sparkling galaxies
So hold my hand
Sit by my side
Lets cherish this love
Our priceless gem
And sing a duet
Meant for you and me
Salem Noxolo Mar 27
Have I sand in my shoes?
Nay. Maybe rocks in my socks.
Nay. Maybe anvils in my pants.
Nay. Maybe clocks in my tops.
Nay. Maybe bricks in my bras.
Nay. Are my earrings made of steel?
Yet my beat is slowing,
And my feet are moaning.
My pace is similar to snails'.
My eyes are open,
But as open as the holes in a chinois.
I've not caught up on caffeine.
So maybe I should go get more sleep.
But wait!
Just gotta let my tea seap
And the incesnce burn out
And untie my shoes
While I'm at it, let's clean the house
And make some apple pies
Retie my shoes
Hide the bags in my eyes
Hold on. I've gotta go change into a dress.
Couldn't forget to curl my hair!
Umm, yea- nooo
(Also a chinois is a type of fine strainer.)
Put your right hand over your heart. Can you feel it beating?
I bet you can, but I can’t.
No beat, No bump, No feeling.
How could the love stop?
How could the blood stop?
How could the beat stop?

I guess love does die when your heart stops.

                       With love,
Lora H A Apr 6
They scream.
All yelling at me.
Go, Go, Go,
They repeat.

Run, run, run,
I tell my feet.
I speed,
Nonstop until I get in.

My heart beat,
Too fast.
Too deep,
I breath.

I look around,
I feel confuse,
I refuse
To give up.

Not until
I achieve
My last goal,
Until I breathe my last word.
Deep Sangani Mar 24
You have created
a demon.
A mind with a
thread of pollution
of thoughts
lining it.
A person built
of salty water.
   A demon with a muscle
                          but not a beat.
The heart
You listen to music for the music, and I listen to music for the lyrics.

And that is the difference between us.

You get caught up in the intertwining of chords and harmonies and sound, while I get caught up in the story and the meaning of the song.

You get so excited when you hear a new song because of how it makes you feel, and this is why I listen to the lyrics, because I love that about you.

I need a song to put my thoughts into words.
I need a song to explain how I'm feeling, when maybe I can't get the point across myself.
I need something to express my emotion and my longing.
I need you to know how I feel.
I need you to start listening to the lyrics.
Özcan Sh Mar 22
love is like a piano,
when the white and the black keys are pressed after the rhythm,
a song appear where the hearts can hear each other beating together.
Brent Kincaid Mar 21
I want to write such words
That can reach out and teach,
And share with the world
What I have found on beaches
And mountain passes, in cities
And the countrysides, like music;
Lilting songs without tunes
But such that please any critic
And help them learn to sing
Even when there is no melody,
Experiences that changes them
To symphonies from threnodies.

I want to help everybody hear
The jigs and tarantellas here
Made from words that keep
Their lively memory very near,
That we may subtly hear it
And love it and treasure
Every beat, rest and thought
In every verbal measure,
So they can ride along with
An orchestra often unheard:
The precious gift to us all,
The magnificent spoken word.

I have set my sights on this,
The mission I have chosen
And shall make it my quest to
Insure my stride is not broken.
Not everyone is given the gift
To say what they deeply feel,
It falls to those who can speak
To show others what is real,
Or what may just be tinsel
And what is golden, or wrong.
Thus is the fate of our poets
To parse it in poetry and song.
I wrote this for you, but also for every poet you will ever know.
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