Micayla 23m
My poetry does not shake the floorboards
But it does keep score
Of broken mirrors and slamming doors
Tally marks in finger shaped bruises on forearms
One, two, three, four
You can't see anymore.
The hands that cupped my face,
Kisses meant for my lips,
Given to closed fists,
And found on my cheekbones.
Dead words resurrected with names like Jack and Jim,
Putting me in their place
Six feet underneath his bed, under him.
Till roses grow from between my ribs while wicked thorn bushes pulsate in my veins,
Sugary words reminiscent of candy canes,
Verbally definitive, physically diminutive,
Because sometimes sweet talking gets you a deal.
But fuck talking, I’ve decided to heal.
The person I was all those years before,
I don’t care,
I don’t know her anymore.
James 4h
grow on, little flower
blossom like the rose
dance with darling daffodils
For soon I'll hold you close

take your tea with tulips
learn of lilies, too
remember to forget-me-not
For I remember you

grow on, little flower
take your time to bloom
I'll pick you when you're ready
And not a day too soon
Frustrating when you're the flower
Frustrating when you're waiting
Rewarding either way
Lydia 7h
they say growing up is a trap,
but what about never growing at all?

I think it may be worse to miss out on all the heartache and pain that comes with being alive because in all that suffering, is where you find yourself

growth hurts,
every limb and vein in your body as if you're being pulled apart,
but from darkness always comes something far more beautiful and then after all of it,
you're still here

rather than stay sheltered and safe and comfortable,
I think I'd rather feel it all

all the risks I've ever taken
or hardships life has thrown at me,
or moments so wonderful they imprinted my soul,
have been more painful and beautiful and just so very worth it
I wouldn't change a thing
A work in progress
I look at you, but you aren't there,
And I breathe a sigh of sadness.
If I look away I'll face my fear,
And succumb to a world of madness.

I reach for you, but you don't reach back,
And water wets my face.
I think of everything I lack,
In the game of the Human Race.

You didn't know what would happen that day.
What you reaped you did not sew.
I look at you and all I say;
"Why did you have to go?"
With tunnel vision
I look forward on my walk
To the trees growing
I love the taste of fire and ashes,
even the pungent sting of burnt charcoal.
Decaying in gasoline.
Because they were remnants once,
of who I was.
Pax 2d
Too many shattered Mirrors
Mirroring my sins.

Too many walls
Hindering my wings.

My growth remains
as silence Kills.

How do you love the
I was never a writer
I was just some poet
Who seek some
understanding in my
understatement @pax

at times I feel so tired...
thanks to those who still read me..
How can you say that the world is plain,
When waterfalls fall with the fall of the rain,
And puddles are gleaming like brand-new veneer?
Don't you know there is magic here?

I look at the flowers and expect to see Fae,
Yawning and stretching at dawn of the day,
Or harvesting dewdrops which fall in the night,
Flitting and flying from left to the right.

Have you walked through the forest and breathed in the air?
Have you laughed as the chipmunks ran fast from the hare?
Have you noticed how leaves turn the golden light green?
Have you seen all there is in the woods to be seen?

Oh Friend, have you stretched out your hands to the sun?
Have you seen the sky change since the day has begun?
Will you lift up your eyes and be wrapped in the dark,
And watch as the moon and the stars make their mark?

Do you really not know there is magic here,
While the puddles are gleaming like brand-new veneer,
And the waterfalls fall with the fall of the rain?
How can you say that the world is plain?
The hourglass tips, sand pouring out,
Golden flecks of time all floating about.
I snatch at them, flailing, but catch only one -
A moment to cherish, shining bright as the sun.

But then it is gone! as quick as it came,
and I’m torn with such grief, such passion and pain!
There will be no more like it - none ever again,
For each of our moments is like a flame in the rain.

Somber, I watch, a veil of fear about me,
Afraid of what will happen when the sand is all free.
But the sand keeps falling, like Fall’s golden leaves,
I reach out to reclaim them, like Fall’s bare trees.

But soon -- too soon -- the glass is purged of sin,
The goals, the dreams, the what-might-have-beens,
Leave tortuously, weeping at what I could have done,
If I only could have known them: those minute grains of sun.
and the clock continues to tick.

Hands of  Time

Won't stop for gold

But knows to slow when

longing ebbs and flows


Hands of Time

are a rare rare find

But it can blind in

the coin of life


Hands of Time

Won't stop, we go

The seasons flow

Dream and destiny bestowed

How I long to hold and stroke the hands of time
Hands of time...
It's all about do and die, life is anyway
So many dreams so little time

Be back soon
Lyn x
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