Twas an adventure at young
You had different types of love
Though they never did you wrong
Instead each of it taught you a lesson
One taught you to sacrifice time
To comfort a heart that is aching
One taught you to be humble
When you achieved something
One taught you to always be kind
Learn to love and be more caring
You started to explore yourself
Finding true meaning of love
Though love at first is reckless
No feeling ever came close
It is still in your heart as the greatest
For there is nothing that I wouldn't do
For a taste of love again in my youth

Love at youth is one of the beautiful things in our memory

bullfrogs and crickets
drinking straight
from hot spigots
a lot of rock skipping
a little skinny dipping
your humming
my strumming
owl calls as night falls
rushed love in
barn stalls
castles and temples
showing your
cobwebs and
hay stacks
on our backs
where did you
and our
moon go
those early
my mind can't
forget what
my heart still


Love for a season is better than no love at all.

i love space.
i don't know all the constellations,
nor do i know all the moons
but i do know that
i love space.

you remind me of space.
but i know all the constellations,
the sun kissed freckles that dance along your cheeks,
and i know all the moons
the sparks that make your personality shine bright
i love space.

i love nature.
i don't know all the plants,
nor do i know how to tell what is poisonous,
but i do know that
i love nature.

you remind me of nature.
but i know all the plants,
which seeds to cherish to make your heart grow,
and i know what's poisonous,
i will not mention your family
i love nature.

i love you.
i do not know how to mend your broken heart,
nor do i know how to mend my own
but i do know that
i love you.

- i'm sorry it took me so long to say it

Once I Was Young

A cliché maybe,
For the multitudes have said it,
One thinks it now and then,
In one way or another.
Situation, circumstance transport it to
The frontal lobe.
One probes the wardrobe of the brain
Where dreams have lain
And lie there still, so very still and quiet.

But today I chanced to see
A photograph of me
And chanced to say,
“Once I was young”.  
It did not feel like cliché,
But fresh, revivifying
Memories I had not thought about,
Affections that now brought about
Sensations not particularly rosy –
But not jarring either.
More a nosy statement not opposing fact;
In fact, prosaic,

Was young
Not to
Be that again.  
Do you
Experience that also?

Once I Was Young 7.23.2017
Birth, Death & In Between II; Circling Round Aging;
Arlene Corwin

being young and getting older

When I was young,
I was so carefree,
At least that’s how
It seems to me,
Isn’t it strange,
How things turn out to be?

Full of hope,
Full of passionate dreams,
A thrilling new world
Lay right before me,
Isn’t it strange,
How things turn out to be?

Glass half full,
Then it’s half empty,
My mood can change
So very unpredictably,
Isn’t it strange,
How things turn out to be?

'How Things Turn Out to Be' is, as the lyrics make manifestly clear, a song from one of my episodic ‘glass half empty’ periods, this one dating from 2016.

First you will cry.
You will feel every emotion that you've ever felt being washed down the drain
and you will taste the sour, bittersweet heaviness of sobbing at 4:38 AM on your lips
and you will scream so quietly it will be a whisper to others but a clap of thunder inside you
and your lungs will stop working
and your ribs will feel as if they were collapsing
and you will not be able to walk the next day because you will feel as heavy as a truck full of rocks.
Next you will be silent.
You won't speak,
you won't nod your head,
you won't smile,
you won't write,
you won't move.
You will suddenly be able to feel your bones and stomach caving inwards inside of you
and your skeleton will become so thick with the secret carvings in your skin that it will become a labyrinth that even you will not dare to explore
and the world will continue to spin, everything will go on,
and you will just stay numb to keep yourself from falling apart.
Then you will hate them.
You will curse every single person that pushed you to talk to them,
you will rant about how terrible they are
and how fucked up your love in the first place
and that it hadn't meant anything
and you will say they were just another burning star in the sky,
you will say that their light has started to fade,
you will say they never cared about anything,
you will say that it didn't matter,
and you will yell until your voice is raw and your throat is hurting
and you will go to bed silently wishing that the tears on your cheeks would stop pouring
and you will feel your inner self loathing at the core of chest for being so stupid, for caring in the first place, for being pathetic enough to keep all their things.
Then they will call.
They will make you question every single thought you've ever had,
every damn moral that you had created for yourself
and they will tear down your walls with an ax made out of love and nostalgia
and they will say that leaving was a mistake
and they will make you remember memories you had blocked out.
The old conversations have been deleted, all the photos no longer on your phone.
You will still cry at night sometimes
but your heart will become a boat sailing on rocky waters
but you will be okay.
The world will finally come to you on a cold Tuesday morning.
You will go home
and they will not call you
and you will not care.
This means that your lungs still work
and your ribs are in the right place
and you will go to sleep that night with the taste of happiness on the tip of your tongue.
In that moment
you will feel better than you have in months
and you will realize that you are okay,
your boat will not sink,
the storm is over,
the aftermath has passed
and you will be okay.

I'm not even a freshman in high school yet, please don't roast me

What do you love young girl?
Rabbits, Flowers, Toys?
Anything to keep the mind pleased during our time?
Perhaps, my cell phone?
No? do you want prefer to be alone?
Fine, remember you will always be my Young Girl Love.

A short poem about spending time with my little cousin.

I am a very old man
Living inside a plan
Of that great creator
To create immortals
But I live in a body
That is very young
And very enthused

My HP Poem #1630
©Atul Kaushal

I'm young-
So, I sing of youth
Every niceness is beloved
So, I would like to be nice.

I'm young-
I dream of new earth
Every success is glad
So, I'd like to get success.

I'm young-
So, I sing of courage
Every mind is insatiable
So, I'd like to be boundless.

I'm young-
So, I do afar voyage
Every mission is impossible
So, I’d like to be braveness.

I'm young-
So, I sing of the morning
Every spring is blooming
So, I’d like to get freshness.

I'm young-
So, I sing for shining
Every new day is grooming
So, I would like to be endless.

I'm young-
So, I break with the dark
Every light is a blessing
So, I’d like to be gorgeous.

I'm young-
So, I do like the spark
Every win is cheering
So, I’d like to be victorious.

I'm young-
So, I do try up to the bone
Every wish is like an ocean
So, I’d like to be audacious.

I'm young-
So, I love everyone
Every caste is human
So, I’d like to be gracious.

I'm young-
So, I do love you
Every love is pure
So, I’d like to be sweet lover.

I'm young-
So, I do ask you
Every relation looks future
So, I would like to be closer.

Will run

He listens to the old stuff cause it's better than the rest
And he tells me my taste in music is the best.
He likes to text me when he's too busy for a conversation to keep.
And he goes to bed early, but he doesn't get much sleep.
He's likes clean, but he works in the dirt.
Talks nasty because he was a gentleman first.
Tell me he'll quit whatever vice, never lie.
And he doesn't know about zodiac signs.
Holding hands doesn't still his fingertips
And I never figured him to have such soft lips.
He thinks he can keep his crazy promises
Because overall I guess he's an optimist.
And he's rough and mean and rude but he
Says he doesn't like much, but he loves me.

7/15/17~ Cause let's give some credit where it's due
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