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c n Jun 2018
I want to write.
I want to create.
But I rarely feel like I can.
I want my words to mean something.
I want them to be heard to the volume I expressed them at.
I want them to explode minds.
I want them to carry emotions.
I want what I create to be beautiful in a personal interpretational way.
I want them to educate.
I want less to be more.
I want them to make people feel.
...
Isn't selfish of I to hold back myself because I may not get what I want?
...
Isn't selfish of I to hold back one's voice because I may not get what I want?
...
Isn't unfair to my soul to tell it no because I may not get what I want?
...
Isn't cruel of I to bury my desires because I may not get what I want?
...
Is it not foolish of I to be thinking: I want, I want, I want...
when God has given me: You can, you can, you can.
forestfaith Jun 2018
I wonder.
What is poetry in person?
Can I touch it?
Can I feel it?
who is poetry?
a person made of experiences, dreams, nightmares, humour, joy, love, and so much more...
I wonder.
I would want to say Hello.
If I meet it some day I want to say hello.
To say thank you for giving me space to express myself like no other way...
Hello Poetry!
That is what I would say...
Thank God for poetry ahhhhh
Lyn-Purcell Jun 2018
I am the dream that breathes
I am the blur of thoughts
I am the embodiment of harmony as well as chaos
I am a glamoured lie with shadowed truths
I am a reflection of my reality
I am an eruption of expression, a flame born of passion
I am art of life's experience, not a body or object of perverse nature
I am a fragment of knowledge that walks with untapped potential
We're human at the end of the day.
We are all art, our lives living stories being told!
Be back soon!
Lyn x
© 'Living Art' by Lyn-Purcell
Nivine Nahli Jun 2018
I was good to you,
I was too good to you.
Feed on me because I’m vulnerable.
Walk away, when you know you’re wrong.

n.n
Frank Discussion Jun 2018
Once upon a time my breath
Caught so hard I thought my chest,
It...
might...
explode.

It might explode and the thought that I,
I might fall down and then just die.
This
is
the
end.

"But there's love, love on the kitchen floor" -
"But there's death, death at the table" -
And my heart
Will break itself in two,
Because I'm ready willing able.

So don't stop.
A Simillacrum Jun 2018
Even when you
express your thoughts
in a respectful way,
you'll find more
often than not,
you'll be told
assuredly,
you're wrong.

This is a tactic of those
hidden behind
status and clout.
They'll silence
your little voice
as they keep
right in your face
and shout.

You're entitled to yours
as they're entitled to theirs.
I want you to know, though,
those who refuse to let you speak,
have already decided inside
that you don't deserve autonomy.

Don't argue with the ill intended,
kids.

It's not your job to teach.
KP Dutta Jun 2018
With every blink, I shed 'sorrowful-water' from my visionary eyes,
Every moment, it drips off my cheeks and reaches my neck.
I am so disturbed by the wordly ties;
The very ties that bound me to this world.

Now, I am tired following the rules of the books
Which have clipped my wings!
It bounds me to swim in the sea of depression;
And prevent me from flying in the sky of heavenly peace.

I long to spread my wings
And soar high above the sky,
Like the peaceful dove.
But I am prevented from doing what I love!

So, I shed tears with every blink
And long to break the chains that clink.
It's a light-hearted poem written by me with heavy heart, heavy in the sense I feel like I am pulled down, down to the deep sea of depression!!
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