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Nigel Finn Sep 2016
It's a plan in itself,
Not an open invitation for suggestions
To go on long walks, or dancing,
Or paint-balling, or take a drive
Down to the beach.

It doesn't mean I am free
To do one of the hundreds of tasks
You decide are more important,
In an attempt to fill my day
With a different kind of meaning.

Today I am doing nothing,
Because I have become lost,
In a world where doing something, anything
Is so expected of ourselves and each other
That simply doing nothing is viewed
As a waste of time.

We so rarely have opportunity
To have the conversations in our heads
That determine who we really are,
As we watch the moments floating past,
Lying under the stars.

Today I am doing nothing,
Please understand that what I desire,
Is silent doorbells, unknocked doors
And that the phone doesn't ring
As I curl up by the fire.
You have to allow a certain amount of time in which you are doing nothing in order to have things occur to you, to let your mind think. When was the last time you spent a quiet moment just doing nothing – just sitting and looking at the sea, or watching the wind blowing the tree limbs, or waves rippling on a pond, a flickering candle or children playing in the park?
Et cetera Jul 2016
Naive little waterdrops never knew
What they were, what they could do
Upon their downfall they saw the sun
The sun shone bright and magic spun
A band of colours poured from the drops
Exquisite scenery high above the crops
Bright old sun had till then just burned
It saw then the rainbow the drops had churned
It saw its own reflection in the colours that appeared
It saw itself caring when it had never cared
It made the water shine when it fell from its height
It showed the drops too their very own might
Dear old sun makes rainbows everyday
It still burns and still makes the drops gay
The water never fears and takes on the fates
As long as the sun shines, a rainbow awaits.
Alyssa Quinones Mar 2016
A voyage of expression
Of pain
An examination of ones own worth
A date with desperation
A way to find solace, identity
The words kept by the heart and abused by the brain
Where dreams go to die and worries come to stay
To be stuck in an endless void
Where warmth is a stranger and coldness a neighbor
To dance with the monsters that dwell in your head
And comfort the ones that live under your bed
A forbidden art with sweet release
To tangle with your own desires
The darkness brings something the light cannot
Courage, anxiety, strength
A candle provides a dim path
The heat from the fire burns
Reminding you of how alive you are
How blissfully free
And how utterly alone
Eva Clay Mar 2016
you haven't exercised in a week
you haven't exercised and you've been eating a lot - ice cream and candy and not entirely healthy things
you haven't exercised and you've been eating a lot and you've developed a slight pudge around your tummy where previously you wanted rock hard abs because you wanted to be strong
but you're finding that strong isn't what you've made it to be
maybe strong is more than slim bodies and powerful arms...maybe
and the strangest part of this journey of self-discovery is that, as your stomach starts to make itself a delicate padding and as you roll over in bed instead of going for a run, you are curiously the most happy you've been in weeks
and you love your body and it makes sense and you are *happy
irsorai Nov 2015
A whisper echoes
In the purest parts of my heart,
And it doesn't still.

What are the things that you want?
*What are the things that you dream?
Copyright © irsorai
I look through my window,
When the day falls asleep,
And silence prevails on the busy city.
Then the night turns restless.

I look through my window,
And wonder of the secrets...
The world beholds in its heart.
And could hear the sounds of adventure.

I look through my window,
And find myself into deep blue sea;
Standing on a peak amongst the clouds;
In a quest to discover the undiscovered.

I look through my window,
To return to the reality of life.
I go to sleep with the hope...
To fly off the window, one night.
I may not be perfect, but at least I know who I am.
I may not be a fighter, but I know how to walk alone in dreary desserts.
I may not have wings to fly, but my dreams have.

I may not control my tears, but at least it’s not fake.
I may not be the richest girl, but guess what? Who cares!
I may not write the best, but my words are true.

I may not be loved, but I am in love.
I may not express myself, but my eyes don’t lie.
I may not be perfect, but it’s just me.
It was first published in my blog:
Ignatius Hosiana Sep 2015
Yeah, I'm at a point where I'm handicaped by fear
When stimulant sadness clogs my eyes but can't shed a tear
A point when I'm afraid of both the future and my past
Feeling tethered to bad karma,feeling cursed
Stuck in this minute with the clock ice paused
On the fringes of life where all doors are closed
And heated so that not even opportunity can dare knock
Seated in the quiet of the noisy silence watching the clock
Frozen to a single moment yet seasons are ticking
And there're signals that rest of the world's moving on I'm picking
I'm living like a ghost that died a million years ago
One whose owner ailed of an incurable syndrome pride
A disease born of a blood ******* vector called ego
One from which the wondering soul's holder died
I'm at a point when I ask myself why I was born
When It's clear I have to work my fingers to the bone
But not even myself can get me to my feet to start the journey
I'm at crossroads, and I know I have to choose
Because I've got rest of my life at stake, everything to lose
At now, and thing about now is knowing the actual value of having money
I'm at a point when a have to make the big calls, hold or move on
Keep being a cry baby or put the badass pants on
Looking back to the age when I was afraid of Gekkos
And it's how I feel calling out and feedback's my own echoes
I'm at a point where I don't need spectacles to see my mistakes
Yet it still feels like I'm not ready and haven't what it takes
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