oh my stars

May 2015

Amanda Frost

someday

Someday I will show you
all the words I write
and that is how
you know I love you

#love #heart #romance #young #acceptance #youth

oh my stars May 2015

You are not a teacher.
You are a:
wisdom-imparter
confidence-booster,
esteem-increaser,
fun-creator,
book-reader,
essay-writer,
dedication-inspirer,
love-definer,
joy-inducer,
enthusiasm-evoker,
wonder-explorer,
beauty-demonstrator,
knowledge-sharer,
thrill-designer,
truth-teller,
excitement-architect,
student-encourager,
A friend.
You are not a teacher.

I don't think people realise how much of an impact a teacher can have on the life of a self-conscious, self-loathing teenager with excruciatingly low self-esteem. This poem is dedicated to my wonderful GCSE English teacher who has helped me immensely over the last two years. I wouldn't be me without her. Thanks Miss :)

#love #dedication #english #teacher #student

oh my stars May 2015

Café

I look at you over my morning cup of tea,
Examining every wrinkle in your amiable face,
Each one marking a moment of happiness.
Compassion drips from your eyes, like your coffee onto the saucer.
Drip, drip, drip.
The corners of your worn mouth curl into a warm smile,
And a soft chuckle comes from within.
But the cruelness of time transforms it into a cough
So that by the time it reaches your withered lips it merely reminds me
Of your age.
Time has disfigured your laughter-
Now it only serves as an impatient ticking.
Tick, tick, tick
Towards the impending doom.

You are transfixed by the dancing words in front of you,
I see your eyes dart across the page,
Chasing each letter with a desperate yearning.
You, like I, recognise the beauty of words-
It was you who taught me to allow the words to be free.
I still remember how your gentle voice rippled over my bedsheets like tsunami tides of wisdom,
Transporting me to a million different worlds
All at once.

You continue to sip your coffee,
And I my tea,
Words uniting our disparity.

#love #father #time #coffee #family #daughter #age #books #unity #tea

oh my stars May 2015

Every Word of Yours

Every word of yours
Is like a knife penetrating my fragile skin.
And as my blood pours from the wounds you created,
I lie.
I lie to you
Because it is easier to hurt me than it is to hurt
You.
Beautiful, beautiful you.
The words leave your mouth with good intentions but
By the time they reach my delicate ear they are plagued with pain,
The pain of your love.
It is unbearable.
You see that you're hurting me but
I smile
That fake smile that I have become so accustomed to.
I reassure you,
Sugar-coating my comfort with little stars that formulate into kisses on your sweet lips.
I am fine.
I am fine.
I am fine.

#love #lies #words #desperate #pain #beautiful #unrequited #lie

oh my stars May 2015

The Pain of Poets

I wonder why poets are sad.
Is poetry salvation from misery?
Or is everyone sad?
And maybe we only notice it in the people who write:
Sylvia Plath.
Virginia Woolf.
Charlotte Mew.
So many.
Is poetry just cathartic?
Do people not write about happiness because it has no effect?
Or are they afraid of happiness?
Sara Teasdale.
Anne Sexton.
Richard Brautigan.
Why so many?
Does writing poetry cause sadness?
Because one must reflect on misery to create emotive poems?
Or do sad people write poetry as a form of release?
Humans are addicted to sadness-
Are poets more so?
Are poets the most emotionally intelligent of humanity?
Or are they merely able to describe them?

Us readers feed off the misery of them.
Our creative fuel originates from the pain of poets.

I wonder why poets are sad.

The link between sadness and poetry has always been obvious and yet unclear. So many poets have taken their own lives- there must be a reason? Do sad people write poetry? Or does poetry create sad people?

#poetry #poet #sad #depression #pain #sadness #humanity #emotions #suffering #misery

oh my stars May 2015

Anonymity

There is a certain comfort in anonymity,
The ability to disguise ourselves as no-one.
But this disguise becomes too real,
Reality and fantasy reverse:
We are no-one,
Our disguise is now the person
We once were.
There is no desperation in regaining our
Identity.
Are we too scared to be someone? To have meaning?
Willingly we discard our existence and
Replace it with nothing.
We are nothing.
Nothing.

#desperate #alone #nothing #anonymous #pretend #facade #nothingness #disguise #anonymity #pretence

May 2015

Chris

A Rainy Morning

~

A rainy morning greets me
as lurking dark clouds weep
over an already saturated dawn

Puddles form in abstract patterns
as thirsty sunflowers bend and
drowsy shadows run for cover

Dreary droplets drench, gathering
cold upon my shoulders, still
unable to dampen my spirits

For sunny skies glow within my heart
and nothing shall keep me from
*another new day with you

Good Morning Beautiful