"natual" poems
being poetic sometimes just comes to you naturally. the words flow through you onto the paper in a beautiful rythmic way and they paint an emotional landscape of thoughts and feelings but then someone sees it finds all the flaws all the things that made you feel it was yours that made you feel unique ruined. you feel exposed, hurt, scared. you hide from yourself you won't let your muse out for fear of having your art distroyed altered and corrupted. so you change you pick up a brush you dip it in the paint and you let the flow begin again. your strokes are thrown at the canvas where you feel the anger, your strokes become detailed and gentle when you feel happiness or calm emotions. but then someone sees it they see only the flaws they tear it apart and you along with it. where the lines are jagged from your anger and disappointment they only see uneveness and imperfection. where the shading is uneven from the sadness and the pain they only see imperfection they can't see what precious beauty lay deep inside the painting and the use there words to hurt you to make you feel like you were wrong like your not doing good enough. so you swear never to touch a brush again you will never let yourself flow with emotions like that ever again you tell yourself. but then you change you learn to play the piano you learn to make your fingers glide across the keys in the same was a figure skater glides across the ice. and with each key stroke you heart beats a note that flows out through the piano like blood through your vains. it feels natual it feels good it makes you feel alive you let go. everything comes out everything you feel and think flows through your fingers the notes of your heart beat expressed through the notes of the piano. the feel of the ivory on your finger tips becomes unnoticable you beome one with the flow of the music your heart beats in time with the rhythm of you soul of your music. and then someone hears it they come in and they take a seat and for a while they listen then they stand up and without a word they leave the room and you continue to play you let your flow continue you pay no mind to the person who just left the room. they return they have brought people with them and they sit quitely and say nothing. you stop playing you stand nod to each aknowlegeing their presense and then leave because the music wasn't for them it wasn't for them to judge even though as you leave you hear the people talk about how amazing they felt you were you no longer care they approval or disapproval means nothing its no longer about your art being good or being acceptable its about being...
Jan 1, 2010
Jan 1, 2010 at 4:16 PM UTC
The ice chimes to me songs of a lost beauty,
echoing her auburn hair and endless smile across the evergreens.
The sun shines her smile through a cool cloud
and whisps a crisp kiss to my longing lips.
I search for her among the looming hardwoods and across the winded plans, hoping to find something of myself lost with her.
Looking to a star filled sky my tears fill the air,
hoping only to hear her laughter once again.
Long lost are the days we walked this path together.
Her simple and natual beauty now come to me only among nature,
only that which can match the greatness of her love.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 1:29 AM UTC
I really cant see the good in myself,
and I'm not doing to well with my emotional health.
sat hear thinking of years long ago,
a time way back when joyfull months would go slow.
a long while back, before my mid teens,
when life seemed simple
filled with prospects and dreams,
a smile would follow a feeling inside,
and now the smile is there but something has died,
none of us learn to laugh or to cry,
that comes to us natual like the stars in the sky.
and the mountings and ocean,
perfect emotion,
perfect beings
no internal corrosion.
we are all born a mirrical
and as from day one,
the light shines bright
to help guide us along.
But as i grew older and thought I new best,
I egnoed those I loved and followed the rest.
my life choices all wrong,
once drugs came along,
but the desire to use was always so stong.
only happy when using,
body and mind I'm abusing,
destorted thinking and life seems very confusing.
as time passed by
i never stopped getting high,
still unaware of the damage inside,
now I sit and I sy,
wanting to cry,
but the tears inside me seem to have dried.
so I become aggressive n i shout,
because it needs to come out
this only further hurts those that I care about
but as I sit all alone and i look at the sun,
it reminds me
that when the rain ends
then change can be done.
and change must be made
because I know ov this much,
I no longer want to be out of touch...
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC