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annh Sep 28
The writer is unwritten until he writes;
But ne’er of the unwritten does the written writer write.

‘There is nothing new except what has been forgotten.’
- Marie Antoinette
Oscar Valdez Sep 26
You are a poem that can't be written by my hand, only narrated to this world by your walk, your laugh, that wonderful smile, the starshine in your eyes, the river in your eyes could read you forever...
Alice Sep 19
there is a soft emptiness in
my bones
and i still
don't quite know what's supposed to
fill it
but your smile
and laugh
seem to pour into my
hollow chest
too quickly
and take up
too much space
Alice Sep 14
It's just that
i'd like someone to
write for me
just once
i'd like to be the object of affection
i'd like for someone to find
that beauty my mother keeps telling me
i have inside
i'm not complaining
but you see
i'd just like to be the
and not the poet
for once
japheth Aug 29
there are poetries

meant to be read,

there are poetries

meant to be spoken,

but all poetries

are meant to be felt.
Neha Sharma Aug 18
Your smile is what I love.
Your arms is where I wish to live.
Your sweet voice is what I long to listen.
Just about you and us that's all I have always written.

~your smiling queen :)
I can't think of anything else except you my love.
Seanathon Jul 29
By green in water
Blue in eye and mind alike
With gentle shimmer
Gleaming is the ray above
This, your autumn crown alive
her amber crown written as a tanka
The uniVerse Mar 2017
Shine forth ancient one
for I too am your son
your vessel of choice
use me as your voice  
through written word
to eyes unseen
and ears unheard.

The language of love
is an unspoken truth
all writing that was
forms a mental noose
around the neck
of our ideas
that seems to break
unanswered prayers.

Allow me to write
on your behalf
that you may restore sight
with the words I craft
and let yours be the light
that illuminates my path.
Johnny walker Jul 22
aI come alive with the first thought of the day that of Helen a smile Instantly appears on my
old sad
the smile had been wiped from my face the day she
died a cold winters day
back In the year of
23rd Dec
And the day becomes even
better when I write my first poem of the day about her
thoughout the day and
most of the
I continue to write of her through her Inspiration my love of poetry reading
and writing really
began through
Never before had I read a poem let alone written one
I remember still the very
first one that at the time
thought would be
my only
but I'm still writing of Helen our life together forever
and always we'd say to
each other and I'll write
till I can write no
If not for Helen's Inspiration there's no way I could have survived life on my own without dought Its poetry
that's saved me gifted
to me by my
In world now full strangers
for that how Its seems to me
lost the love of my life my only love Helen's no longer a part of this
I'll feel like a stranger my self now for no one to love me
and no one for me love
either I would ask myself
the question what's the
Love of my life that of beautiful wife for I'd lived
a life more stranger fiction
how fate had bought Helen I back together after so many years
No book ever written could do our life justice of the love that shared for each other for Its the poems I write of my wife that
tell the true
Helen and I true lovers In every sence of the word never apart In twenty years that
we had as man and
wife a true love that will go on forever that nothing can or will ever break
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