Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 May 2015 theblndskr
Audrey Maday
He came screaming into my life like a balloon accidentally,
Let loose before the knot is tied,
And his words make me giddy.
So why do the words not flow onto the page over him?
Why can I only write sad poems?
 Apr 2015 theblndskr
Nevermind
One day I'll wake up
And it'll be easy to breathe
I'll stretch and yawn
The birds will sing
Early morning sunlight
Will spill onto my face
And the day will begin to fall into place

When I throw off my blanket
The cool morning air will chill my skin
But I'll be okay
I'll be deeply content within

My feet will touch the wooden floor
Like they've done a thousand times before
I'll pause momentarily
And think about nothing at all

I won't be happy
I won't be sad
Maybe I'll smile
Just because I can
I've looked above
Beneath the clouds
Among the stars
But couldn't see

I've searched below
The rocky earth
The mountains and
Under the sea

I've asked Him too
"Where is it?" but
He stayed silent,
Just smiled at me

Why can't I find
That precious thing
Or wait, was it
A precious place?

A vibrant town?
A drink? Some wings?
Or maybe just
A lovely face?

I screamed so hard!
I couldn't help
It as my thoughts
Lie on the floor

In panic now
I asked myself
What was it that
I'm searching for?
His warmth I love
Though never touched
Cause suns still burn
From far away

He'd hear my thoughts
Though never speaks
But silence talks
In many ways

Oh how I'd love
To have him near
To talk even
For just a day

But I know well
As dreams reveal
When I come to
That he's not real
?
?
In a box it stays
Wrapped in sheets of grey paper
For how long?
That was not the question

Each day for sure
Its price increases
For how much?
That was not the question

No one ever dared
To open the little box
Afraid that there's no answer
And that there was no question
We are writers and poets who know how to express
We can define our feelings a lot more or a lot less
Why were we cursed with the ability to feel?
The feelings of life that are so painfully real...

We can make music by writing what we desire
Turning simple paper into a passionate fire
We can sway hearts by symbolizing love and creation
Or break another's by turning words into death and temptation

We are the cursed race of scholars who turn words into weapons
We can draw blood with a phrase in a matter of seconds
We are dedicated authors with emotions so heavy
That one word from us that is read or heard can be deadly

Words are our weapons, our friends and our foes
Even a writer or poet has demons that only we know
Each line is a battle and each piece is a war
We are writers and poets and we will write forevermore
Next page