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Cathyy Mar 2015
You push until I fall down,
and stay down..
And there's strangers giving me the eye, "are you okay now?"
I get up, & think nothing of it
I'm still optimistic

Yeah you scream until I can't ignore,
Your opinions
But the fact is what you think is just..
Your opinion.
Oh everything's changed but nothing's missing
Cause I'm still optimistic!

I'm gonna dance as if the spotlights calling,
Pick a song that would drown my sorrows out,
And for tonight I'm not afraid of falling,
I'm gonna be so confident that I might just love myself..

Yeah you made me insecure and, so nervous
But there's teenagers giving me a wink, "you're a nice person" ;)
Well I'll be dumb to forget this,
Oh kindness from strangers keeps me optimistic


& I still believe in happy - sad poems.
Quite ironic right?
Haha I went through a rough patch with my mum last night but I'm still standing!..

Please check out my last poem and the link to my new video! X

I appreciate the trending and all that, new followers too. Thanks x
Alyssa O Nov 2012
Bright, cheerful, optimistic
The very picture of idealistic
Very short synonym poem...
Patrick Austin Nov 2018
A girl, a woman, lover, friend,
liking me more than she should.
I want to love someone again,
I know she wishes I would.
I love the joy and pain of her,
our hearts are an open book.
My wounds are fresh from this mad world,
when life was harshly shook.
Portrait eyes are such a treat,
looking up at this new man.
Simply, silly, kind and sweet,
She reminds me who I am.
Her witness down inside of me,
exposure to all my tools.
Teaching each other honesty,
we're reinventing the rules.
She has a look she can't disguise,
whenever I look her way.
Optimistic hopelessness in her eyes,
bittersweet each day.
Moving on and on and on and on...
Zac C May 2013
I consider it
rather optimistic
to view myself
as a small spec
in this large swimming pool
of a universe
because
it only encourages me
to be
*bigger
5/8/13
gf Aug 2013
i used to cut
because i was angry at myself
and i was angry at my parents
and my friends who honestly weren't good at their "job" of being said friends
and everything else in the world that didn't benefit me.

i hated myself
and i still do
but maybe less than i did then
because i'm not as angry at myself
as i used to be
and the last time i cut
was in may
and those "friends" don't talk to me anymore
but my parents still make me absolutely livid sometimes

but what can you expect?
the world makes everyone mad sometimes
and i really wanted to treat it better than it treats me
      "**** 'em with kindness!" like dad always says
but it's kind of hard to do.
it's like the one kid who picked on you
and called you fat when you were in kindergarten
but when you told the teacher
they cry and say that you were mean to them first
except the world can't cry
and the world can't talk
and i guess the teacher is the sun,
and if you think of it that way,
the sun is going to blow up in a few billion years
and then the earth will be dead
and you will be dead before that,
so i guess
that it's better to be optimistic
even when you're angry
because when you're angry
and upset at yourself
or your friends
or parents
then you get hurt
and your parents get hurt
and your friends get hurt as well
Daylight 4U2C Dec 2014
Maybe I don't have a mind,
but at least I'm not crazy.

I fallen so many times,
so I'm so experienced.

I've been cheated and left behind;
I know my friends and enemies.

I hear the echos of memories;
they see how far I've come.
So I know I've come so far.

Don't have a lot of friends,
so music's number 1.

Would **** for solitude,
but then where is the fun.

Maybe it's complicated,
but that makes an adventure.

Sometimes the darkest times,
are ones we gladly venture.

Optimist living for a life we understand. We were never idiots; we have the upper-hand. Notice their all falling down the depths of agony, but we optimist live strong, proud, and free.
A Jan 2015
My heart
Is a happy drunk
A little too open
A little too optimistic
It's over in the corner of the bar
Playing poker
Screaming at the top of it's lungs
I'M ALL IN
When it's never
To this day
Had a winning hand

My heart
Is a sad drunk
A little too lonely
A little too caught up in tears
It's over at the counter
Forcing the bartender to take its keys
Because it would rather not go home
Than go home alone again

My heart
Is a reckless drunk
A little too unbalanced
A little too impaired
It's over by the door
Making everyone nervous
A little too good at scaring people away
A little too far gone

Like you
A little too far gone
Turn your head
Shuffle away and pretend you don't notice
The breakdown of a heart
Too drunk on feelings
To know when to stop
PC classic Jul 2015
like a child who drew
sunshine
on a car window
fogged up by the rain.
Luna Casablanca Jun 2014
Throw away the negative thoughts,
I now stopped beating myself up.
I find some good make-up
to cover up my black and blue
all over my face.
I choose to think of comedians
forgetting the drama queens.
Be honest but never
******* myself.
Optimistic
is what I will
and what you
can now call me.
Katarina Elaine Jan 2014
you tell me of all your grand adventures
and how all the lights of the city look so peaceful
from far away
you boast of dazzling sunsets and gorgeous sunny days

but i want to stay inside
the city is ***** and the lights hurt my eyes
i never want to see the sun set because endings are too sad
and sunny days make me sick
i want rain
i want to be able to cry outside and let the floods wash away the pain

"but life is so beautiful on the other side" you said
and i looked into your eyes and with a bitter tone i whispered to you
"i don't ever want to watch the sun set"

it was then i realized i had been watching it gradually fade
the whole time
nivek May 2014
a date with destiny
many fulfilled
lots more to come
Purab Mar 2016
The life of him,
A saga of broken dreams.
The soul of him,
A shattered reflection .

His soul,lost in a misery.
Forced to a living,
that no one can understand.

He firmly believes in this quote-
"God help those
who help themselves"
So,
Again he tries,
to reach a mile,
With his broken legs.
Never give up. Keep going.
Ashley Bertram Oct 2011
Shimmering gleams of hope
Dance across the shadows.
They show no fear and neither do I.
I know there are only good dreams to come.
Whispering optimisms,
Tell me I'll prosper.
Their silent hints make me
Hopeful and rosy.

I've danced with the devil
On many occasions.
He's convinced me I'm home,
But I know that he's wrong.
I'll follow my heart and
Always see the sun.
For the shimmering gleams dance
Across the shadows of my soul.
Cné Dec 2017
~
O Painter
with thy own eye
                        would thee
paint me in mine own natural hue
prithee paint me as i am,
imperfections
            and blemishes true

Load thy brush
                      with colors sundry
to maketh yond first pure sweep
across the ****** frieze,
fill'd with pangs of hunger.
paint me as i standeth
                  bethought, in deep

With mine own love and mine own desire,
blurring the edges unclean
with mine own regrets
                  and mine own mental gyre,
in mine own natural age,
               of deep forest green

O Painter
Paint me sinister turquoise,
in lavender and maroon,
combine the amethyst and amber
blend the iceberg
       and the indigo moon.

Paint me as i standeth,
       prithee see with thy eye
a mistress in yond lady plight
Prithee paint me all i am
i cullionly
a mistress in all yond lady might

Paint me in the optimistic
                             silv'r of dawn,
but don’t miss the purple
to shade the bruise
                              of the bygone.
paint me in the sky blue journal

O Painter
Paint me as a unique template
smudge black white and grizzled
merging all the colors of thy palette.
col'r me a rainbow
                            in a rainy drizzle

Paint me tall so yond i standeth
loftier than any mountain
Paint me as a dram bird, delicate
with soft feathers silken

Paint me harmony, as a violin
so yond i can sing thy solitary tune
paint me as thy poetry
         with song and melody
wrapp'd in a cocoon

O Painter
paint me as a dream yond rises
                               in did saturate colors
with a steady upbeat flight awry
tint, a fluttering
             of a quite quaint butterfly

Portray me with endurance
imbue so bold and bright
doth not hesitate
                to depict mine own mind
in profound fuchsia and white.

Useth the colors yond thee would borrow
Thy palette not yet exsufflicate
Paint mine own loss and mine own sorrow
in search of a shade so ******

Adorn mine own heart in glowing garnet
at which hour thee paint mine own love
add a true broken blue shade
of the cloud and the rain above;

Study mine own dry sorrow
                              in mine own soul
useth any shade thee plaited
soften the edges of control
in a tinge of xanthene.

O Painter
Prithee paint me
Mine own passion and mine own spirit
shall has't a crimson r'd hint
mine own remorse and mine own regret
shall reflect an ink stain print

Paint me in mine own eye so true
O Painter
but add a dash of courage too

~
When I paint, I’m never quite satisfied as I see all my mistakes, blemishes and colors not quite right. I tend to keep painting to try and get it all right. At some point, I arrive with the conclusion, if I keep going I’m going to mess it up. I stand across the room and, it’s then that I’m amazed at what I have created. I like to think that I’m seen in the same way by my creator.
Unified approach Nov 2014
Like happiness, sadness is ephemeral. Nothing last forever. 
So use your energy instead to improve your future endeavors.
The imprecise nature of our real existence,
Is an approximate level of our understanding
They say a calm mind and an optimist view
Can even save a Crash landing
Kevin Lee Feb 2015
Both forever and never the optimistic
Eager to repair, cure, remedy
smile forged by the smoldering liar inside
Seems so familiar this reality
Seems like I've been here before torn from what used to hold me
With broken skin and ****** hands constantly gripping what could've been what couldn't be fixed.
Laura EK Aug 2012
In the velvet dark that holds all dreams,
A thousand hopes are given flighted chance.
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.

A gentle ashen pallor moonlight reams;
A billion shadowed niches seem to dance
Within the velvet dark that holds all dreams.

A bluish glow though leafy vellum seams
Can thread its way through thick and wooden lance.
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.

And oh! the silken light above that streams,
Dissolving all the hundred million "can't"s
Within the velvet dark that holds all dreams.

The night that's holding precious breath, it teems
With broken vows, inconsequential rants;
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.

The wish for what is come to be, it seems,
Envelopes friendships, hopeful romance.
Within the velvet dark that holds all dreams,
Optimistic wishes waft through empty beams.
Saved this from years ago. There's something I still like about it.
Austin Heath Jul 2014
Getting ready to play a video game
in a nice, not-actually-dusty-but-
has-the-comfort-of-dustiness-like
Booksto­re.
Maybe.
"Townhall free wifi."
That's just great. I mostly
just cry and complain and wonder
why dolphins are so optimistic as
to not just off themselves,
since they can consciously do so.
Free wifi though.
I mean, that's just cool.
I am self-reliant and optimistic
I wonder if I can travel through the clouds
I hear the whisper of the cold air
I see things I don’t wanna see
I want to meet people I look up to
I am self-reliant and optimistic

I pretend that I’m a happy person
I feel like I’m walking on the moon
I touch all our midnight memories
I worry ‘cause I might get used to it
I cry because I've been strong for too long
I am self-reliant and optimistic

I understand the truest sense of perfection
I say that I’m perfect in an imperfect way
I dream about being queen
I try hard to be pretty
I hope these feelings get better
I am self-reliant and optimistic
I am as I am,
my thoughts are nebulous and coherent,
I am the reluctant believer,
I am the optimistic skeptic,
I prepare for the worst,
and pray for the best,
I am a product of my environment,
but I also hope that I am more.

I scoff at those who say that they know,
be it the singularity that is deity,
or the absence of divinity,
his finite and plural nature,
or the limitations of the father,
as such I am a heretic,
and so I blaspheme,
relishing the jealousy of knowledge.

As I stare into the eyes of the unknown,
a canvas casting light on the firmament,
I realize that the futility of thought is artifice,
the cords wrapped tight around my sleeves,
exist only in what I live,
and what I choose to accept.

I accept.

And with this thought in mind,
I reject the null,
for I cannot accept the reality that I am given,
for a world without end has no meaning if not for progress,
if gain is finite and the continuity infinite,
there is no point,
the blade of Christianity is dull,
and so too the endless strains of antagonists,
horribly over-educated and overwrought.

I reject.

What separates God from man?

Maybe it is the ability to arrange matter,
it might simply be an issue of innate power,
but it might also be the sustainability of material,
the ability to see,
for we may as well be blind,
or perhaps it is simply a matter of punctuation.

I accept, but so too do I reject,
and gladly will I play the fool,
if it will place the odds in my favor.
A.P. Beckstead (2014)
Joey McNamara Aug 2010
Your words mean nothing, nothing to me
Lay down your weapons and just, let it be
This isn't worth trying, why can't you see?
Lay down your body and just, let it all free

Who are you to say those words?
All I want to do is fly, fly with the birds
And yes I know, it's not realistic
At least I can feel optimistic
That this love can work, can work, can work
Let the smiles begin and lay off that smirk
Cos all I want to do is fly, fly with the birds

For one last time let’s feel this
Let yourself fall into the abyss
Let yourself fall into the bliss
And feel loves strong blind kiss

Who are you to say those words?
All I want to do is fly, fly with the birds
And yes I know, it's not realistic
At least I can feel optimistic
That this love can work, can work, can work
Let the smiles begin and lay off that smirk
Cos all I want to do is fly, fly with the birds

Every time we do this I fall to pieces
I can't help how my feeling increases
When I look at you everything ceases
Please grant me of your loves releases

Who are you to say those words?
All I want to do is fly, fly with the birds
And yes I know, it's not realistic
At least I can feel optimistic
That this love can work, can work, can work
Let the smiles begin and lay off that smirk
Cos all I want to do is fly, fly with the birds

Your words mean nothing, nothing to me
Lay down your weapons and just, let it be
This isn't worth trying, why can't you see?
Lay down your body and just, let it all free

Who are you to say those words?
All I want to do is fly, fly with the birds
And yes I know, it's not realistic
At least I can feel optimistic
That this love can work, can work, can work
Let the smiles begin and lay off that smirk
Cos all I want to do is fly, fly with the birds
Cos all I want to do is fly, fly with the birds
Copyright Joey McNamara 2010
RAJ NANDY Jul 2018
Dear Readers, concept of Time has bewildered our ancient sages, philosophers, poets, artists,  including our famous scientists and physicists even to this day. It has no doubt also impacted my    
mind in several ways! Therefore, this series about the ‘Enigma of Time In Verse’ is now being composed and posted to share my thoughts with my Poet friends on this Site. If you like it kindly re-post this poem. Thanking You, - Raj Nandy from New Delhi.
             

   THE ENIGMA OF TIME IN VERSE : PART ONE
                           BY RAJ NANDY

                 A  SHORT  INTRODUCTION

During my childhood days, time appeared to be joyful and endless.
Though my parents had observed the clock all the while,
Telling me when to rise, when to eat, play, do my homework, -
till it was my bed time.
Alas, my childhood days as cherished memories are now left behind.
With rest of the world  I am now chasing that winged arrow of Time!

Those Management Gurus say, that our twenty four hours day,
Is time enough for those who can manage time from day to day.
Yet I do find, that I am generally chasing time, not to be left behind!
Hoping that a full time job will provide, some quality time, with the desired comforts of life.
Therefore, I abide my time, hoping to have the time of my life one day, with some quality time coming my way.
But in this mad race against time, while chasing that butterfly of happiness,
I must learn to cool down and breathe, before time decides to elude me!
For with patience and perseverance, that butterfly of happiness, will alight gently on my shoulder in good time, and perhaps at
the right time!
While time is universally regarded as the fourth dimension by our physicists,
It is said to flow at different rates for different individuals as mentioned by Shakespeare the English dramatist.

          FEW  LITERARY  QUOTES  ABOUT  TIME

In ‘As You Like It’ Act 3, Shakespeare refers to ‘the swift steps’ and the ‘lazy foot’of time  in a relativistic way.
Time ‘trots’ for a young woman between her engagement and marriage when a week feels like seven years for her every day!
Time ‘ambles’ for a priest who doesn’t know Latin and a rich man without gout;
Since the priest is spared the burden of exhausting study, and the rich man is spared the burden of exhausting poverty - no doubt.
But time ‘gallops’ for a thief walking to the gallows, for even if he walks slowly, he happens to gets there too soon!
While time ‘stands still’ for lawyers on vacation, since he sleeps his holidays away!

Now moving forward to Einstein who once described his ‘Theory of Relativity’ very humorously in the following way; -
“When you sit with a nice girl for two hours you think it’s only a minute, but when you sit on a hot stove for a minute, you think it’s two hours,” he had said with a chuckle!

Getting back to Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth’ Act One on that blasted heath,
Macbeth asks the three witches, “If you can look into the seeds of Time,
And say which grain will grow and which will not,
Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear…”
And finally that brilliant piece of soliloquy about Time by Macbeth in Act 5:
“To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
  Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
  To the last syllable of recorded time,
  And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
  The way to dusty death….”

John Milton’s poem ‘On Time’ composed in 1930 ends with his optimistic lines:
“Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
  Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
  Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace …..
  When once our heavenly-guided soul shall clime,
  Then all this Earthly grossness quit,
  Attired with Stars, we shall forever sit
  Triumphing over Death and Chance, and thee O Time.”

Alexander Pope in his ‘Imitations of Horace’ (1738) writes:
“Years following years steal something every day,
  At last they steal us from ourselves away.”
Romantic poets have dealt with the transience of time, which got popularised by the Latin phrase ‘Carpe diem’ which tells us to ‘seize the day’;
This Latin phrase has been borrowed from the Roman lyrical poet Horace of ancient days.

Charles Dickens’ novel ‘Hard Times’ is an autobiography describing his difficult childhood days.
While the famous opening lines of his historical novel ‘A Tale of Two Cites’ take us back to 18th century London and Paris under times sway.
I quote Dickens’ memorable opening lines:
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us ......”

We have the Nobel Laureate Tagore’s well known poetic lines on the subject of Time:
“The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.”
“Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of leaf.”
He described the Taj Mahal as “a tear drop on the cheek of Time,” in his unique poetic style!

TS Eliot’s ‘Four Quarters’ of 1935,  include extended rumination on the nature of Time:
“Time present and time past,
  Are both perhaps present in time future.
  And time future contained in time past.
  If all time is eternally present,
  All time is unredeemable.
  What might have been is an abstraction
  Remaining a perpetual possibility,
  Only in a world of speculation….”
(Notes: This concept will become clearer in my Part Two, presently under construction.)

Next I have a quote from WH Auden’s poem ‘As I Walked Out One Evening’composed in 1937:
“But all the clocks in the city
  Began to whirr and chime:
  O let not Time deceive you.
  You cannot conquer Time.”

Subject of Time forms an important part of science fiction even to this day.
HG Well’s ‘The Time Machine’ (1895) interests both the layman and the Scientific community even today!
Finally, I would like to conclude my Part One on ‘The Enigma of Time in Verse’ with my favourite poem composed by the British poet Ralph Hodgson:
  
TIME, you old gipsy man,
  Will you not stay,
Put up your caravan
  Just for one day?
  
All things I'll give you
Will you be my guest,
Bells for your jennet
Of silver the best,
Goldsmiths shall beat you
A great golden ring,
Peacocks shall bow to you,
Little boys sing,
Oh, and sweet girls will
Festoon you with may.
Time, you old gipsy,
Why hasten away?
  
Last week in Babylon,
Last night in Rome,
Morning, and in the crush
Under Paul's dome;
Under Paul's dial
You tighten your rein—
Only a moment,
And off once again;
Off to some city
Now blind in the womb,
Off to another
Ere that's in the tomb.
  
Time, you old gipsy man,
  Will you not stay,
Put up your caravan
  Just for one day.

In Part Two I shall cover the Concepts of Time along with its Philosophical speculations.
Before moving on to Einstein’s concept of Time, and its present Scientific interpretations.
Thanks for reading patiently, from Raj Nandy of New Delhi.
harlee kae May 2014
I haven't yet determined
                                   if optimism
                              Is a trait of the foolish
                          or a trait of the brave          Give me something real to hope for.
                         Show me that I'm wrong.
                  Prove to me there's fairytales
                       That have happy endings.
Lysander Gray Oct 2012
Her mouth glittered agape
With sacred promise,
Like a box of unused
Engagement invites
Christening invites
Birthday invites
Still in the wrapper
For sale at a
Lifeline.

When you’d rather live
In a car
Than the zombie stance
Of a modern house,
Clean and soulless
With a hermetically sealed lawn,
Winter pageantry draws to a close
With bogan’s shooting-
Pearly eyed paupers
With constellations in their gaze.
With eyes full of hope and stars
That burnt bright and fade for
Flickering lens light.

Their voices murmur soft
Through catacomb
And underbrush
As only the ephemeral things are whispered of –
Dreams.
The addicts of ideals
The junkies of hope
The drinkers of despair
Have tiger soft tongues.

They lap and feast gladly,
From broken vessels
Chipped with hazardous teeth
That seek to fill their
Ermine mouths with the ******
Draught
Of truth.
Stumbling through wine-hour
They swarm, with tongues ******
And all constellations burnt out.

The hyacinth rides wild
Upon her shoulder,
Writhes in the silver brunt
Of moonlight,
Writhes in the stillness of dead perfume.

Marching to the beat
Of my enemies drum,
My hands inside my pockets.

Little bluebirds spun from dream
Sit on the holy perch,
A branch in all innocent minds.

The redeemed and patient
Make a subtle art from
Long distance perversions.

Similarly as we chase ghosts over Daffodils.

Fields of winter
under lunar glow
sway without us.

Long distance love
lingers with loose lust
along Regret street.

I hung it next to the memory
Of childhood cooking and Indian summers
Without further thought.

It slipped into the novel that took the form
Of an old coat, slipping into the lined pocket
It sank with a sigh.
Satisfied with itself.

Bombarded by the pounding
Dead eyed stare of ***** goddesses,
Broken by the undisputed angelic
And unglued ones,
All moon faced
All hopelessly optimistic
All lawfully rebellious
With green serenity
We pasted our dreams
On a wall so real it shone gossamer.
He counted the imperfections in the glass
With mind hesitation
As the whole world went black,
In a sea of much deserved discontent,
Wishing for the soft.

A moment of pure luck?
Jesus was an astronaut
Smoking Zen by the fire.

Suicidal angst
never had you in sonnets?
What a ******' shame.

Our life is but a song
We never hear.

I chipped away at the excesses
of my baroque person,
each strike took a
Railing
mounting
wall
decoration
desire
demand
exclamation
from the battlements.
All left now, a hill.

I paid for my banquet
with a sip of loneliness
and left behind the question
that asked all quiet poets
the meaning of love,
that asked all quiet poets
to answer with a villanelle
shouted from every
distant peak.

They sent the troopers
to greet me instead,
and my library was put in shackles,
and I kissed their ***** feet.

I answered that I carved this mountain
from the baroque bedrock
upon which they laid their city.
They smiled and asked about the aqueducts.
I wept and spoke of kitchenettes.

A meal provided
on a lead cast plate
my jailor asked about freedom
I answered with defeat.

There were two atoms
One questioned the meaning of existence
The other the existence of meaning.
             -Regardless they looked the same.

An apple on a branch,I took
The same way history takes a footnote.

The same way cashiers are all doctorates.
The same way trains find the station.
The same way you sing like a bird (and I like a cow).
The same way we never really wish to be writers.
The same way our final friend is made of pine.
The same way all streets lead to nowhere.
The same way all jobs **** society.
The same way we always lie to our children.
The same way a man loves a woman.
The opposite way we ****.
The opposite way we make love.
The way that I know a man who’s totem animal is a worker ant and he is unemployed by choice.
The same way we take old memories and turn them into fashion.
The very same way all sacred things become profane and all profanity becomes sacred in the eyes of many.

Dying relic of the Optimistic Seventies,
A new coat of paint for the old irony
     -slap dashed with obscurity.
Although I wear the costume of my enemy,
I will write the exaltation in blue smoke
As **** by an unsuspecting victim
Occurs in the dark.

The face of another love stares down at me.
I smile.
Yet I know it is not her.
I weep.
A sudden method sparks revival.

Jackie Pleasure wore a gray smile,
The anthem of a lost generation:
‘Happiness is lost in smiling.’

You are dead to me,
the boatman calls
I will not taste of your amber lips
I will not taste.

The welfare of all never hinged on darkness as we fear the fall,
A multitude of angels sang their songs
And never learnt to say goodbye
Or cast a long distance eye
Over half spent desire.

Drawn out caricatures,
Paraded intoxication
Flirt with our mistress death
And have her pick up the tab.
She pays with silent music.

The ***, we learn, is a bridge
Between all words and waltz’s,
Our Light Brigade to conquer art.

In the twilight of this, our mansioned night
Let us ring out true with indulgence,
Excess, abandon and the call of ‘yes’
Kali rang on the wire of a golden telephone.
Her name
“Kali, Kali…”
Like a quarrelsome minotaur
Flew through the waves of silk ideal
And strangled the babe
With cool breath.

There was ice (oh yes!) and fire and song.
With our candles burnt down to the ash of all streets
We walk then. We walk.
All life is but a song.

The ghosts of all forgotten stamps
Now echo on the wind of speech.
On High! Oh speak!
Of songs sung but never danced
With our broken dream.
When starlight meets the dust, and
Shadow eats the snow,
All our stories are satin sheer
And all our wants are gone.
We watch the memories march, until
They find a sliver of chrome that showed that place
Where all piano’s live and breathe.
My father in the wishing well,
My mother played trapeze.
My sister never saw the light,
My brother never born.
That was that,
Where stars meet dust
And floorboards sing off key.
Over the course of several months, I carried a small notebook in which I kept random musings and poetic snippets that came to me. This is the compilation of that.
Jord Jan 2015
A fearing optimistic tries
so hard, for so long
to see his hopes fly away
and fall among the corpses
of his ways.

Returning once again
fearing the future in front of him.
Tori Jun 2013
Call me optimistic, tear me down for being naive.
Tell me I’m wrong, “living in a wonderland”

Or call me pessimistic. Write it off as hormones.
Laugh and say “I’ll understand when I’m older”
But I understand right now, in a way you never will.

I call myself a realist. I see things as they are.
I strive for perfection, knowing full well
I will always fall short.

Is it optimism to believe that
people should be good?
Better then what I’ve witnessed too often.

Is it pessimism to speak your
mind?
Express your opinion to your very soul.

There are different definitions of ‘living’ to different people.
And I will create my own, I won’t live by your rules.
Andrew Leparski Jan 2016
In dying trees I see rebirth
In a loser I see one who can finish first
In places I've never been
I see places I can get to know
Unknown chapters
Is where my optimism wants to go.

Is it too much
To appreciate the unappreciated
To hold the un-held
To replace pain with love  
And succeed with all cards dealt

I hold dear,
to things too small to see
I believe,
in things too strange to conceive

I place my hands around wounds to heal,
I simply feel for those who cannot feel.

I undergo the struggles within every soul
If only it lead them to their biggest goal

I make the rules to use this plan
I just might be an Optimistic Man
kg Oct 2014
for seven years i believed that i had no right to say
that i had been abused because it wasn't physical,
like my friend who was beat by her drunk father on
a daily basis.

my abuse was only on an emotional, psychological scale
and while sometimes his hand slipped or gripped too tight on me,
i honestly wouldn't count it as abuse.

recently i began reading into this and while it's not
as talked about as physical or ****** abuse it still counts
and it carries over as children grow up from these experiences.

even experiences that i didn't think counted as emotional abuse,
from times when i was far younger than just a teenager.

the abuse i've dealt with hasn't made me any stronger than i was,
it's made me the exact opposite;
instead of being the person i was before, bright and optimistic,
i'm apologizing constantly for things i don't need to and
second guessing myself and others intentions.

constantly i wonder if i'm bothering someone,
am i being too much of myself? am i allowed to speak?
does my opinion matter? is it all right to assert myself?

after being told for three years that i don't matter,
and there is no point of me for existing and that
it's no wonder i don't have any friends,
i'm trying to break myself out of the box i've placed myself in
and it's so **** hard.
Kirsten Autra Oct 2010
When darkness creeps

She seems to die in the night, 

Laying her head down to rest. 

Accepting the surreal world she 

Sometimes doesn’t remember.

It isn’t exactly a place of death,

Where she stays each night. 

Yet, each morning she is reborn

As the sunlights stretches into her room,

Acknowledging it doesn’t take all day

To find the purpose of its glow.
Agnis Lynota Mar 2013
In the silence of the night,
My thoughts scream nonsense
I can hear my heartbeat increasing
Because it scares me how just one head
can hold so much sorrow, chaos and wonder.
My heart is an optimist,
but my mind is one hell of a pessimist.
Matthew Mar 2014
We laugh upon this empty rock
We smile as we run our circles
Giggling rats
Lice swaying in unison to our meaningless song
The black ground heaves
with laughter
Let’s go waterski
above the empty sea
You’ll find me snorting and choking and twirling in a hailstorm
MWestmacott Apr 2012
And the sea that once sung,
will sing again,
the written rhyme undone,
will be write again.

For dancing hope will always shine,
No matter how dark the cage,
A bright sharp tooth to remind,
That you must get through today.

So let your strength burn through your skin,
Claim your chance with both arms,
It is for you that I will sing,
Your own strength keeps you safe from harm.
It's oddly hard to see, which view is better for me.
A ****** end to the year and an even worse beginning.
This type of thing can have two meanings.
Maybe things can only get better, maybe there's no place but up.
Maybe I've experienced the worst time of my life, nothing else can go this wrong.
Or maybe it's a sign of how my year will be.
I can feel it just getting worse.
And as much as I want to be optimistic, I can't cover up my hurt.

I mean I've done this before, I can last a year,
but I guess I wanted something more.
To feel like I am not just coping with life, I wish it wasn't a chore.
I guess happiness isn't meant for my life, I guess the timing is off.
Maybe one day, in the future I'll be alright.
Maybe one day my smiles will be real.
Dani Greaves Jul 2012
Separate proudly.
You are an entity of your own.
Incomparable we all are.
For they are they and you are you.
For I am myself.
There is space;
tangible emptiness
that sustains our independence.
And with our bodies,
with our minds,
liberated and unique,
we move forth onto the paths which we forge..
carrying beautiful,
distinguishable quirks,
true to the individual.
We cannot be concerned
with where and how others step,
for our trail escapes us then.
And on our way await our gifts
and the places where we may leave ours in exchange.
Another's trail I shall not seek,
and shall not want to find.
For only one is mine.
Penny Iloa May 2018
Here to expand my simple state of mind.
My soul senses her a sacred gift,
sent from the Divine.
She sees something in me,
the obvious traits I fail to see.
In my world full of darkness,
her name rings true.
A spark of hope in Love's One true.
Oh, how I love to be a humbled,
optimistic fool.
Amateur. Quick thoughts. Thank you for reading. Note: her name is Hellen (shining light)
Jen Dec 2018
Optimistic,
The answer to
Every First World woe
That plagues the soul.
Optimistically,
I must wake each day,
As it's hard to tell
What lies ahead, anyway.  
Optimism prevails, always.
If only it was
That simple.
The only answer
Is to see the world
Optimistically.
Easier said than done,
Sometimes,
It flies too high
Like a caught Dragonfly,
Leading to dread and disappointment
When captured in the mouth
Of a ravenous bluish bird, big appetite.
Against all odds,
Remain
Optimistic.
Umi Apr 2018
The wind blows on a restless night
No fright, sight or cloud creep around in the tranquility of darkness,
A drizzle, brought by a softer breeze from seemingly nowhere drives near, dispersing the light brought by the sweet waning gibbous moon
And so, a grand rainbow, yet dim has been cast across the dark sky, filling it with both hope and glamour and blessed optimistic tender,
Impulisive shooting stars, racing across the sky and illuminating it,
In great numbers, one would think someone let the stars rain down instead, as they shine, then shoot across the horizon, never to bee seen again, each wishing, leaving their bright trails behind as travelers,
Appearing like a cosmic chess board, the flare stars dance in a festival of pure energy in the light of a white nights eternal moon, beaming,
The legend of a first wish, travelers which bring infinite fortune, brought to those whom believe in a shooting stars power and might,
The legend of the second wish, simply infinite power brought in light
And the last wish is carried by the realisation of transience, right before the night has come to its end, a last traveler shoots across the sky, it is the wish of immortality, an eternal life which cannot vanish.
But, the last wish, is a greater curse than hell or death itself.

~ Umi
- Oct 2014
i am a dreamer
idealistic, optimistic
the one who imagines her life will actually turn out how she wants

i am the ideal girl to marry, apparently
according to these heteronormative results
that are based upon me knowing how to cook
and liking to sleep in and wear t-shirts
that seems like ******* to me

i'm not the ideal girl to marry
who would ever want to marry this?
who could i ever want to marry?
to wake up next the same person for the rest of my existence?
to never get a moment to myself?

sometimes i look at her
and imagine my life working out the way it's supposed to
and waking up next to her every morning
and dancing together in sweatpants
with messy hair and fuzzy breath

maybe

— The End —