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A Purple Moon Feb 2016
Where will the sun go after sunset?
After it dives into the deep blue sea?
Will it go somewhere it needs to be?
Or will it just take time to be free?
I don't know what the sun will do meanwhile.
Thank God. Love's still there in the moonlight.
But, really, will the sun ever get tired?
Playing the wicked games, up in flames;
Inexhaustible, yet a source of blames?
Why do humans blame it for their faults?
By the way, where will the sun go?
People in the other end speak stupid.
"The Sun's still shines after sunset.", they say.
**How can I say it's not the sunset that I mean.
I've been writing poems but didn't get any time to post one. Here's a mere try from me of a quatrain. Hope you like it!
Ignatius Hosiana Nov 2015
I lost my phone,I lost me and I lost her number
Sad it was a great friendship but it couldn't last till December
*So addicted to losing that I no longer feel the pain
I cannot wait, I believe I will lose someone again
Ignatius Hosiana Nov 2015
You're the hard ground and I'm the rain
Gladly falling for you, ignoring the pain
Could've stayed in the sky at cloud nine
But can't stop pouring till you're soggy and mine

Brent Kincaid Aug 2015
Random acts of poetry
Seem to come a lot to me.
No apologies issue from me
Because that is how it is meant to be.
Ella Rosebud Jul 2015
The further the distance
The more I desire
Your cold winters lips
Upon my hot summers fire
A pledge of love from the sun to her lover the moon
Ignatius Hosiana May 2015
If you were just the flower
You'd have a little extra fragrant power
Everyone who met you would love you
But none of them would love you like I do
Austin Barlow Apr 2015
There was a stain blood red
On the little boy's bed
"Goodbye mommy..." he said
As he bled, and bled, and bled.

The mom screamed
The mom cried
The mom said softly
"Please... Dont die..."

The boy smiled weakly
And the boy was hardly speaking
"Then dont call people liars..."
He said, as he closed his eyes.
i hope that this is not going to suspend my account, thanks for reading.
Bb Maria Klara Mar 2015
Why worthy wonderer, whispers no words
About fleeting feelings falling featherlike,
Better than bickerings boasted about
Sweeter than sugary surreality.

Truly a challenge to change nonchalant
Thoughts and then think so thoroughly that
At once and all over; obviously, we ought
To learn love in life like a listening lot.

Say, sharper than a sparkling star-filled sky,
Simply, I sigh seeing sight of your eyes.
Proven so purely precious prized promise,
Marvelous mystery making me most meek.

And although all acts are always adored,
No one knows nothing nor never alone.
Really, rough loving rivets writing wrists,
Yet you, I yearn you, yes, your yearning of me.

How had my heart helplessly heed no hails,
Empty of every eager everything?
It is indescribable, indefinite, infinite.
We would be the world's wishfulwise wonder.

Come clean, conclude, close calmly this cast.
Admit all affections are ardent and awe.
Truth telling ties tongues too tight to twist--
Here, have my heart, hear hopes howling hell.
I always had the thoughts of writing a poem entitled "Amazing Alliteration" or "Annoying Assonance" or both because I was really fond of it. Now I have a sort of masterpiece for it and it isn't what I entitled. I do not know if I should. Anyhow, I cannot exactly say what this poem is about: love, perhaps, most likely. When you are in love, things are bound to be sweeter than surreality.
Bb Maria Klara Jan 2015
Here is something I might not ever say,
but something sitting in my mind everyday.
How could I have done it in so many ways?
And end up so tragic like Shakespearean play?

I might be a saint to tell that I love you,
When you aren't listening or taking the clue.
Lately I find myself huddled in rue
and regrets and shades of the color blue.

I think it was obvious in other things said,
in how you're the one making me not want dead.
I hoped you'd catch on when I'd say go ahead,
telling me of your worries before I lay in bed.

I loathe it now how I never told you straight
but now feel so rushed that my words are too late.
If I wasn't anyway, then that would be great;
but if I am, I don't think I can clean my slate.

I love you, I have and I always will.
It's too late to think that this feeling I'd ****.
I fear that to say so, I needed this skill--
I'm too **** adept and it's barely got thrill.

Strange how I need to voice this out in rhyme,
but not to you directly, I've left that sublime.
We've had so much minutes, hours and time,
I don't know if this can get any more prime.

When you just don't hear me, I told you the truth.
That my heart was yours forever; forsooth
and it's in our nature, to make errors of youth.
But we're ahead of our age, reality's sleuth.

Maybe you won't read this, I won't be surprised.
But for my sake I've written, and gone undisguised.
My sentiments for thee have been compromised.
Once more I could love you before my demise.
Love's a *****. I'm working out the kinks of telling the truth and coming clean about it. I'm too young to be stressed about it, but C'est la vie. The heart wants what it wants; there's no way you're leashing and chaining it from what it craves.
They come and go, those pretty faces
Sharing dark hair and pretty brown eyes
They peak my interests for a little while
But then they engrave themselves on my mind

I'll never forget them, those pretty faces
Providing sweet satisfaction for my eyes
But darling, you're still my number one
I drift back to you when they're gone
Basically: I find many guys attractive, but I still choose my No. 1 over them any day.
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