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Javaria Waseem Aug 2014
I wonder how my poems sound when you're the one reading.
My words curling on the tip of your lips as you go through my feelings.

*Do you think about me as you read my heart out?
Or are you still drowning deep in your doubts?
there are days where I feel pointless,
even a bit sad that my poems are
merely a drop in a vast ocean of
thoughts and expressions

why bother writing and sharing?

I sometimes feel insignificant,
and compare myself to others
and feel like I fall short.

there will always be people who write more clearly,
more beautifully with clear imagery,
but none writes like me.
I write, because I must.
sometimes the words build up inside of me,
and if I don't let it out it will slowly eat me up from the inside.

I write and share, because even though my words are like a drop
in a vast sea, at least like water I am connected to others by sharing a little snap shot of my life, thoughts and feelings.

I write, because it reminds me that I am worthy and loved enough to allow the beautiful act of creation to work within
me.  

I am part of the process of life, I am part of the whole, I am part of the "We."  

I am not alone.
I felt a bit overwhelmed with comparing myself to others, and feeling like my poems are not good enough.  My self consciousness lead to me doubting myself, so I wrote a poem to rememind myself why I write, and that I am worthy and deserving to create, love and be loved.
Amitav Radiance Jul 2014
When the whole world doubts you
And your heart says a resounding yes
Take out the Clash Cymbals to crash all doubts
Make your own music to drown the noise
Clashing cymbals make the right music
Clash and Bang, that upbeats the true spirit
Raymond Flores Jul 2014
I am lost and I am utterly confused
I see no purpose for continuing to be

I’m find myself back in this
grey
soul-*******
enervating
seemingly endless
pit of uncertainty

at least if you fall to hell
you are sure of your damnation
but to be both
teased by paradise
and groped by apocalypse
I feel
is the worst of the three
Cee Valenso Jul 2014
The old music box your beloved grandmother
Gave you for your seventh birthday
Starts to play some melody again
But the tunes are discordant, unfamiliar

The story book you first learn to read
Are now on your hands again
You begin to carefully flip the pages
But the plot is now different, unfamiliar

The letters your previous lover had sent you
Lurk underneath your tidy bed
Reminiscing while you read them again
But the words are changed, unfamiliar

The house you have dwelled in
For so many days, months, years
You enter through the door so casually
But the interior looks foreign, unfamiliar

The road you always take
Whenever you stroll and ponder
Leads you to the same quiet place
But the scenery is different, unfamiliar


The words your mother told you
Numerous reminders to keep yourself safe
She repeats them all over again
But her voice sounds pretentious, unfamiliar

The mirror leaning against the wall in your room
Beckons you to stand before it
You see yourself through the reflection
But your face is not yours, unfamiliar
Cee Valenso Jul 2014
I apologize
You were a decimated book
That I promised to renew
But as I kissed your lips
And caressed your face
In the most gentle way I could
More pages were torn and shredded

I apologize
You were the pouring rain
And I loved feeling raindrops
On my skin
But as you shower me
With your words, emotions, fears
I seek for shelter in haste

I apologize
You were a neglected garden
I strayed from my home's path
And I saw you
I told you I would be back
Help you regain your life
But I forgot where you are

I apologize
You were the twinkling stars
Even your slightest smile
Illuminated the black sky
But my eyes were transfixed
On the cracks of my ceiling
I can't look at you anymore

I apologize
You were both gems and pearls
My filthy, rough hands
Have dared to touch you, love you
I said I will take care of you
But old habits die hard
I keep breaking you
aar505n Jun 2014
My mind goes to a bad place
when there is silence between us
You would not believe the violence
I have thought,
the doubts I have fought
Believing that you could be leaving
and didn't want to make fuss
You wouldn't believe it cause I don't tell you
I stay silent about these doubts
and hope they are just that, doubts.
For now, you are here
and I suppose I should be happy.
You’re left at the back, anxious at sunrise
as day by day we drift through consciousness.
Ring the Bell. These thoughts are your demise

Act profound, fixating us with lies
Invigorate a prompt adress;
your qualms are back, anxious at sunrise

You’re mother’s boy, your father’s eyes
they know first hand, you’re prone to stress:
so ring the bell. Your thoughts: our demise.

Refrain from fear, nor anthropomorphise:
doe’s endear, their bliss is careless.
You’re stuck at the back, anxious as sons rise

and fall or fail to climb. Surprise,
surprise, with fear of death you now obsess,
over the bell. Our words: your demise.

They say you’re fine, you compromise,
it’s in your head, that last abscess.
You’re left to rot; absent at sunrise
they’ve all forgotten. Those thoughts, your demise.
The world is formed by the active and 'the whole problem... is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.'

- Bertrand Russel
Let free your internal conflicts
That the maze of misdirection
Direct you, miss, to amaze us.

Silence your doubts,
But only for a moment
For a differing of opinions
Will lead you further
Than the casual assent.

So when life sweeps you off your feet
Hold the edge of your seat tightly
Because this plane is on a non-stop flight.

To the plains of success
Where prosperity prospers
And despair falters
To know it is beaten.

(2/19/14 @xirlleelang)
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