#poetryforever
The rain fell like drops of lightning,
As the bolts hit, they crashed on the glass,
Shattered, and slowly melting as they die.
The clock rung at every quarter till,
In rest, silence.
Her candle gently flicking to the exploding drops,
She stares.
She suddenly turns toward the window and feels a cold chill down her back,
But she focused herself again,
And went back to her candle.
---AuroraRW
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 11:53 PM UTC
always
poking
at the sky,
waiting for the signs,
to change,
crashed through a mile-
stone marker,
foolin' with life,
hands on the wheel of
what is broken down,
dark, dark, dark like area
fifty-one
grams are instant,
you might figure it out,
then again, whenever...
first heard of denver,
rhymes and reasons,
eagles and hawks,
music to my ears,
oh then came the tears,
Road Weary too early
in this Rotten World,
but rw came along,
and laughter filled
this heart,
to over flowing,
until tears
came from every laugh
and ... then...
only the tears.
A r m, there was no
harm, only a heart
for God,
step by step you
brought me closer,
if i stand,
brought
me to my knees,
understanding your love
for the Navajo
nation.
Too hard to be a bard,
all the waves that
sound like me
are hammered flat,
sharply.
Too soon.Wanted to grow
old with all of you
even though we share so little
phil-o-so-phically,
but here it is play
with words,
sun still rises
and watching flights
of birds and
dragonflies
make me pause;
from the shape of the sky
to a colour of the paint
that comes from the sun
in the clouds.
Then walking with ugly
toes with feet and
knees,
older than they should be,
seeing
people on the street,
who
love to hate,
hate to love,
each day is a wrestling
match in an atmospheric cage,
that puts ufc to shame,
seeing way more
than can be put on
parchment,
the will, be tried.
roof over my head
like a hat hanging
on an empty coat
hook
between the ribs
tearing at a heart
that refuses to
stop
beating while
being beat up by voices
that keep coming out
of the dark, dark, dark
shhhhhhhhh
whispers,
wisps
of hope
that knowing
as long as the
sounds of music
from many artists
find the ears
and,
able to feel,
lines of tears
and too
the laughter
echoes,
echoes in the
empty hallway
that swallows
red and white
and clear,
I live to write
another
day.
Take courage
to Play
the ukelele
if may I
by deSign.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
I wonder if there is people who really cares about what i write
I wonder if you care about what I do or say
I desire that you read and feel emotions the way I do
but most of all I want you to enjoy poetry the way I enjot it♥
poetry feels so good, even better than a hot shower in a cold day, or a banana split in a summer day, and even better than a kiss from your lover!♥
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC