"canot" poems
If and I canot
If I could stop time
at what spot would you
like it to stop
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
I wish I could fix your broken heart my dear friend.
I wish I could put the pieces of you back together.
I wish that I could make your tears stop flowing.
But all I can do is hold you while you break.
I cannot fix you,
but I can hold you together until you're ready
to put back in place the pieces of yourself that are broken.
I canot take away your tears.
But in your own sweet time dear friend,
when your eyes dry, and you can see clearly again,
I will show you the world awaiting your presence.
You are broken for now, my beautiful friend, but you are not alone.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 3:41 AM UTC
i am in my black clothes,
i wear the colour of death,
i sob,i sigh,i wonder why
i go on drawing breath.
nobody loves me,
nobody cares,
i cannot eat,i canot drink,
i cannot talk on the phone.
i hold my tongue and
close my eyes,
i shut my mouth up tight.
i am in my black clothes,
won't someone see my plight?
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 7:06 AM UTC
When I am full of regrets
But it is not just my fault
Because someone said
You canot blame
A thousand fingers
Point at me
But I scream ,
"It was not just me "
Tired of those who
Talk of self responsibility
But act without impunity
And with disregard
With the rug of power
Pulled from under me
I am forced to **** it and see
Many talk of positivity
Claiming to be free
But I cannot control all
Sometimes letting be
As I am not master
Of the universe you see
And when I wear their positivity
Wrapping up tightly
I find it gives me blisters
Everywhere I walk
So when I feel my regrets
And it is not just my fault
Powerless as I walk
And cannot get on
With their positivity
And I am not free
But when bravely admitting
All the above I start
And look and see
I start to be
At least half free
Realizing it is ok
To say it is not just me
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
I am lost.
I am floating adrift on a boat.
On a lake.
With fog all around
I go in circles,
Never quite reaching dry ground.
And I am tiring.
I tire of waiting for the clouds to part
and the moon to rise,
To be guided home by starlit skies.
So, I sleep.
And I dream.
And as I dream, I remember a time
When I ran wild through the trees.
I find myself smiling. I have never felt so free.
Then I hear a snap.
Followed by a whistle.
And I remember the rest.
I remember why I am running.
You are chasing me.
I run from you and yet,
You canot seem to grasp the idea
That I do not want to be your neglected pet.
You are gaining on me.
I try to flee but suddenly,
The forest is like a maze
And I am runing in circles all over again.
I trip up and fall to the forest floor,
But just before I reach it,
You catch me.
You play hero and beg me never to stray.
You were so afraid.
Well, I'm afraid you were right to be.
Let me go, or hold me close
But please stop spinning me around.
These circles make me sick as I fall to the ground.
And just as I open my mouth to say this,
You kiss my lips.
I wake, a cool breeze tickling my face,
To find the moon has cleared the fog in all her grace.
My eyes widen as I finally see.
I comprehend.
I stand,
Rock my boat
And then, dive in.
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 6:06 PM UTC
I am standing at the cross road
and I am lost.
Dont know wich way
Im going to choose.
I am confused in my head
thoughts are running
and I canot get rest.
Canot sleep and canot eat
only anger and pain there exist.
Like a labyrinth impossible
to find the way out.
I am tired and lost
falling down and trying
to get up again
never freedom for my brain.
How can I survive
this circumstances
feel like nobody understands me
The doctors ask me ?
How you feel today?
And I answered:
I dont know... each day.
I repite the same thing
without hope, without trust.
Im trying to resist the pain
evil thoughts runs in my veins.
I am loosing my identity
I feel like nobody
and it scares me...
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
i am all but confused
My shadowy thooughts dance under the rain while a part of basks in sunlight.
I am all but empty
I claim satifaction with an all rounded sense of hungered.
i am all but vain
I bath in my glory yet to be proven to mankind
Where does my motivation and depression come from?
i fear that i canot tell.. a pity
In love i am tenderly caressed but with fleeting values
In bitterness, i am a wounded lioness seeking revenge,
hurt but with a focus.
I am tempted to ask myself,
where does thy motivation come from?
From the posionous romance of shakespeare?
From words abouts the sullen hull?
From temptations of the daffodils?
From the pain thst lurks therein?
From the sweetness of nature's gift?
Sadly, as i reminisce my past inspirations
I who was oce dull, tentatively recall the forms in which they came
From the bitterness and Sweetness of my heart.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
Take them, because they do me more harm than good. They're yours because another drunken night thinking of you I canot bare. Remebering what we had only makes the pain grow. Please come when I am sleeping a reclaim everything you ever engraved in this mind. Wype your face, your smile, your eyes. All the promises that were made and that you couldn't keep.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
Sometimes I wish Religion didn't exist.
Because of religion, I canot be with who I want to be,
I cannot do, what I'd like to do,
I cannot eat what I'd like to eat,
I cannot be who I want to be.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
I
L'eau claire ; comme le sel des larmes d'enfance,
L'assaut au soleil des blancheurs des corps de femmes ;
la soie, en foule et de lys pur, des oriflammes
sous les murs dont quelque pucelle eut la défense ;
L'ébat des anges ; - Non... le courant d'or en marche,
meut ses bras, noirs, et lourds, et frais surtout, d'herbe. Elle
sombre, ayant le Ciel bleu pour ciel-de-lit, appelle
pour rideaux l'ombre de la colline et de l'arche.
II
Eh ! l'humide carreau tend ses bouillons limpides !
L'eau meuble d'or pâle et sans fond les couches prêtes.
Les robes vertes et déteintes des fillettes
font les saules, d'où sautent les oiseaux sans brides.
Plus pure qu'un louis, jaune et chaude paupière
le souci d'eau - ta foi conjugale, ô l'Épouse ! -
au midi prompt, de son terne miroir, jalouse
au ciel gris de chaleur la Sphère rose et chère.
III
Madame se tient trop debout dans la prairie
prochaine où neigent les fils du travail ; l'ombrelle
aux doigts ; foulant l'ombelle ; trop fière pour elle ;
des enfants lisant dans la verdure fleurie
leur livre de maroquin rouge ! Hélas, Lui, comme
mille anges blancs qui se séparent sur la route,
s'éloigne par delà la montagne ! Elle, toute
froide, et noire, court ! après le départ de l'homme !
IV
Regret des bras épais et jeunes d'herbe pure !
Or des lunes d'avril au coeur du saint lit ! Joie
des chantiers riverains à l'abandon, en proie
aux soirs d'août qui faisaient germer ces pourritures !
Qu'elle pleure à présent sous les remparts ! l'haleine
des peupliers d'en haut est pour la seule brise.
Puis, c'est la nappe, sans reflets, sans source, grise :
un vieux, dragueur, dans sa barque immobile, peine.
V
Jouet de cet oeil d'eau morne, je n'y puis prendre,
ô canot immobile ! oh ! bras trop courts ! ni l'une
ni l'autre fleur : ni la jaune qui m'importune,
là ; ni la bleue, amie à l'eau couleur de cendre.
Ah ! la poudre des saules qu'une aile secoue !
Les roses des roseaux dès longtemps dévorées !
Mon canot, toujours fixe ; et sa chaîne tirée
Au fond de cet oeil d'eau sans bords, - à quelle boue ?
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