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sidra Oct 4
You laugh,
but I’m the one left breathless.
Damaris ZA Mar 21
I want to hold you in my arms
to shield you from the world
like holding a dandelion,
I want to make sure that the
doesn't blow you away
but if I am a dandelion,
when are you going to
blow on me?
The verses write themselves
Words of life
The writer
between two people
should be effortless
a series of seamless emotions
intertwined within each other
creating a moment unaffected
by time
blackbox Dec 2018
Another night savoring of loneliness,
when he stumbled upon a pretty countess.
Her gleaming eyes ready to cast a spell,
as she goes round and round on a carousel.
Galloping up on the wooden horse,
wishing to get ahead of time,
She couldn’t care less about the crowd
as she took off on cloud nine.
Enchanted with her grace and beauty galore,
He didn’t realize he was a mere paviour.
Expressing his love for her will be nothing but a crime,
When a voice interrupted his thoughts,
“Get off lady, you have no dime”.
Embarrassed and disheartened,
she ran off into the woods,
That moment it struck him,
she possesses no worldly goods.
In the hope to chase her through the blur,
the only fear in his heart was of losing her.
There she was sitting alone by the pond.
One gaze, and they instantly felt the bond.
She sobbed “I’m no princess”,
but he firmly said “will you be my bride?”,
And, this is how their love story began,
on a beautiful Carousel Ride!
Iska Nov 2018
patchwork poetry
from a broken soul
ageless words
stitched together
take their toll
as we twist them
to fit the role
I was told all I do is rewrite what has already been written.
With no creative twist or flair
Just wasting time
With empty air
Megan B Apr 2018
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?
Jessica Jarvis Feb 2018
I See a picture,
Dear with color bright.
Its whimsical strokes,
A smooth, but lovely, Sight.

I Smell the paint,
A sense not faded yet.
Like prints left exposed,
With the trail's fine Scent.

But underestimated, the Tool,
And ability to express
The ideas my head
Conjures as a coordinated mess.

Yes, the paintbrush,
Much simpler than I,
Yet it works its hardest,
While I don't even try.
Written around January, 2017.

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