I dreamed
that I was starlight

Drifting
Here and there …

in a bliss-full void
without bounds …
where time didn't care.

It smelled wonderful.
It tasted sweet.
It didn't matter why.

A peaceful deep,
Fulfilling breath …
Contentment with a sigh.

All I've seen …
All I've done …
My experiences … the thread …

Not of my life, as a whole …
but the path by which I've led.

I saw the lesson that was this dream …
My life … the vast expanse.

The thread was true as it made it's way …
not one stitch by chance.

It matters not who I've been… nor what I've been through.
Ne'er meant to change whom we are …
Only what we do.
I wrote this, in my bed one morning, after awaking from the oddest dream I'd ever had. I later wrote something that expounded on this after letting it sink in a bit deeper. It is called "Celestial". Find it here:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2382481/celestial/
alexxa 5d
he sang me to sleep each and every night,
he keeps me smiling, warm and bright.
but somehow i feel my mind falling apart,
and why is it you that still owns my heart?
why is it you that takes up my mind?
leave please, would you be so kind?
i’m trying to move on from you,
but thinking of you is all i do.
i love him,
i loved you.
i loved me,
i lost you.
i loved him,
i found me.
you forgot me,
i miss you.
japheth Apr 15
key
it’s funny
how i keep on searching
for the way
to unlock
my creativity,

turns out
that the
key
to it
was
a shard of my broken heart.

should i keep holding
onto that piece,
leaving my heart
with a little hole?

to keep writing?

to keep expressing?

will this be an addiction?

will i have to
keep breaking
to get more of myself?

or
am i just
ignoring the fact
that my heart,
if once whole again,
if i had that piece glued back to where it should be,

will open me to more possibilities?

will my whole heart signify a greater key?

i wonder as i wander.
not really a piece but i had to write about it since it suddenly popped in my head before i slept and i didnt want to forget about it
Valerie Apr 15
art
in a world full of colour,
i am a blank canvas.
Jeff Gaines Apr 11
I was sipping my coffee
on the porch this morning
and I watched a little boy
that was coming down the street.

He was dragging behind him
two plastic lawn chairs,
stacked one-on-top-of the other.

By the bitter, pained look on his face, it seemed
as though he was hating his task immensely.

He stopped down there,
right in front of my porch.
Yet, he didn't even notice me up here.

His eyes were fixated on a small, silver coin in his path.

He let go of the chairs with the abandonment
found only in a child tossing an old toy aside for a new.
He bent down and picked up the coin,
then rubbed it with his thumb.

It was too far away for me to tell it's denomination.

After looking at it closely, he stuck it in his pocket …
His face was now beaming as he first looked up into the sky
and then back down and around in search of his chairs.

He picked them up and began dragging them off again.

But now …

So help me …

Accompanying his new-found grin,
was a noticeable, bouncing joy in his step.

I wish … we could all find a coin like that.
Witnessing this moment in time, gave me a "chin up" epiphany at a really sad time in my life. It showed me that even something really simple like that could, and would, eventually bring me back to "Happy".
G Apr 9
on a concrete island
in the middle of the ocean,

i put the metal hook around my neck;
chained to my failures.

it quickly began to sink,
pulling me down
into the deep sea wreckage.

i felt myself falling
to the bottom of the ocean.
i knew i was drowning,
penetrated by the invasive waters.

i didn't fight it at first;
i swam in slow motion,
not looking at the black mass
beneath my vertical body.

the judgmental creatures
watched my human figure crawl
towards the layer of oxygen.

my head crest the surface,
air swimming into my open lungs,
becoming a piece of my insides,
integrating itself with my cells.

i swam back to the concrete island,
and resumed my position.
sitting, and waiting.
a dream
Jeff Gaines Apr 5
I’ll tell you,
It’s great to be different.

I love to swim upstream.

I must often settle for lesser joys,
But I never cease to dream.

In
Through the out door,

Running
Up that hill.

I may sit down to rest sometimes.

But I never,

Ever

Sit still.

Up all night

Or up all day …

I may not care what you think,
But I respect it in every way.

I don’t expect you to see the world
Looking through my eyes.

I do,

However,

Expect you to

Share with me
The sky.

Born In a barn,
Born in a Jeep
Or born with a silver spoon.

We roam this place,

Together

Or not

And we all need a little room.

I do as I please.

I speak my mind.

This
will always be so.

I dare
To be me . . .

And I do it wherever I go.

Imagine a world,
Honest and real.

To thine own self, be true.

I rarely ever
Wear a mask . . .

Now ask yourself,
Do you?
Kkø Apr 5
Like a curtain my straightened hair hides

me in its second act

Covering the understudy

set to take my place.

A performance of me, who is not me,

body dressed up and acting.

In the pews,

Ma, and Pop, waiting to be proud

accomplishments I claim, but reject.

Afraid I didn’t earn

how I am seen to a crowd.

My hair curls to

humidity that

chases a curtain call.

I bend at the spine with a smile
Megan B Apr 4
I want to be mysterious
I want to be the kind of girl
who leaves pieces of herself
with different people, all around the world
so that no one knows her full story
but it is all there
for some potential dedicated soul to discover.

I want to be a puzzle
that everyone thinks they have figured out
and all I do is smirk
because they have no idea
what they're talking about.

I want my life to seem effortless
my world falls gracefully into place around me
to the wonder of everyone else
but all according to my plan.


But that is not me.


I love fiercely, and with reckless abandon.
I tell the world my story in hopes that
someone will care enough about it
to stick around to watch the rest of it to play out.

I care. Deeply. About a lot of things.
So much so that it hurts.

I stop to watch squirrels munch on their dinner
and would much rather talk to a child about nothing at all
than have an adult conversation.

I am not mysterious. I am no puzzle. Nothing about me is effortless.
I am an open book with her heart on her sleeve
yearning and searching for true human connection
somewhere in this vast cold expanse.

But what's so wrong with that?
Her life changed
Only when she realized
The monsters had been
Trying to protect her
All along.
Don’t ever try
To get in and out
Of a monster’s head,
She knew that lesson well,
But don’t ever doubt
That this girl can tangle with darkness
And never break a sweat.
That’s when a new day dawned inside her,
When she confronted the monsters in her head
And realized they were foremost a shield.
And she needed a shield. Badly.
Because that’s a habit of monsters;
Be what a person needs, not what they want.
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