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"potrait" poems
I know... I am not one of the pages of your book or the words in your poem But... I will tirelessly watch over you from every nook. I know I am your never but you will forever be my always... I know... I am not the potrait you are painting or the inspiration behind your masterpieces But... in my heart , it is your name I am engraving. I know I am your never but you will forever be my always... I know... I am not the reason for your smiles or the tickles of your laughter But... for you, I would walk a thousand miles. I know I am your never but you will forever be my always... I know... I am not your shining star or the light in your life But... till forever is through, I'll admire you from afar. I know I am your never but you will forever be my always... I know... I am not the one your heart beats for or the one you desire But... my hearts says as long as it brings you happiness, it wants nothing more. I know I am your never but you will forever be my always...
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Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
Forever My Always
in my dream you were running like a rat wearing your fingertoes like hydrangeas and heartache in your head where all the nice things passed out we built barbed fences around our heart to keep it still like a ghastly statue i had no clue in my dream you were planting apple seeds in a corn field i gave you a knife became a mermaid the last child and a sea in my dream you were shining like a sun brainlike exploding having planets around like flower crown in my dream you were warm mug i'd left at home three a.m. and homework not done a highschool girl long forgotten in a potrait on your identity card
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Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
7
dead men don't sing to the world no one can hear them against the winds Their is the land of ash and dust nobody is awake at the gates to take them in dead people don't knock on no doors they don't have our walls to keep them from being freed it is not true what they say in old lores they have no souls so that their heart could bleed silence is not peace, I know you have never wondered 'tis but a disease, old and rotten not breathing anymore there are places where when one shall go will always wander even the deceased, who once had ones worth living for upon the night darkness weaves an hideous potrait showing a face and keeping stars from fading away all who are lost can be more than just be in a cage you wouldn't know how many dead men you've seen today, take a look in the mirror.
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Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
Dead people don't sing
Color me rainbow and brighten up my day, take a little sunshine to chase away the grey.sign me a letter and post it at my door, seal your words in lovers kisses making ever sure.smoother my heart with an embracing smile, your mouth tantalise with words that will beguile.Paint me a potrait your body as a guide, etching every detail my heart to yours will bindLovers secret illusions seen only from within, breathless anticipations for the seductive grinhold my hand in yours, touch me at your will, shivers ripple through me so sensual the thrill let us catch our eyes and draw deeply into the view, my heart to yours i meld, alone and ever truebubbles circle and enclose us, together we are alone, screened and protected our life is ours to ownEtch your words upon my heart, entwined in your embrace our love shall not departstill our lives together keep them fresh and young, let it be forever as we have just beguntake this day into tomorrow, letting our love chase away all that does sorrowPaint us a potrait our life together as a guide, etching every detail our heart together will bindBy Deeanne **
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Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 8:01 PM UTC
The Art of first love
In my dreams, we're together forever, on a beach with hot weather. Rising tides sliding in. ending; never. Sun shining, over the horizon, Sea birds slide in, on the blades of the wind. The sun rays beating, down on your tan skin. Sweat collecting, like honey dew, all over you. looking sweeter than my favorite food, on a honey moon. I'm falling in love with you, not seriously, just the way poets do, with a beautiful concept. I approach the subject,  with admiration and respect. You are poetry in motion, I'm just getting set. To paint a potrait,  of a perfect shiloutte, that you won't forget.  Mirror images,  sharing a secret.
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Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
Inspired
i remember, O yes its clear in my mind, my eyes were darkened by scales. On that day...I could not even see the sun's rays. i tried to take out my sword to cut through, my tears falling moulding my hands as a cup to catch them they fell into my veins...became my blood. I remember yes,i remember very well. Its as a potrait fresh from an artist's hand, vividly flashing in my mind as if to trace a memory trail, i remember the walls, they were four yes... No...they were round, they sorrounded me. they were sharp. they poked me. i felt them cold.penetrating to my skin but I... I did not want to be part of them you see!. I...I SHREECHED and i SCRatched till there was no more of me. and so i just died...my breath with me still. Then she came, beautiful with her robe swiflty sweeping the floor. She radiated in light, i heard my scales falling loudly on the ground as if disturbed by the pleasure of my sight. She stayed with me throughout the night, The were small, shiny, beautiful diamonds in the sky that were looking at me, i saw them because they were also smiling at me. O yes...(smiling) i said "Hi", they never could respond.It was well. I remember, early, frost kissing the grass. Walls opened as gates, i heard horns singing my praise. This was all new you see, i was whole. she took my hand,then my mouth opened as that of the whale that welcomed Jonah to its belly. I opened, i spoke, it was melody. "Excuse me, whats your name?." "Hope" she said, Hope i repeated. "You...you are hope", then  i cried. Yes, i remember it well.
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Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 1:17 PM UTC
HOPE
i remember, O yes its clear in my mind, my eyes were darkened by scales. On that day...I could not even see the sun's rays. i tried to take out my sword to cut through, my tears falling moulding my hands as a cup to catch them they fell into my veins...became my blood. I remember yes,i remember very well. Its as a potrait fresh from an artist's hand, vividly flashing in my mind as if to trace a memory trail, i remember the walls, they were four yes... No...they were round, they sorrounded me. they were sharp. they poked me. i felt them cold.penetrating to my skin but I... I did not want to be part of them you see!. I...I SHREECHED and i SCRatched till there was no more of me. and so i just died...my breath with me still. Then she came, beautiful with her robe swiflty sweeping the floor. She radiated in light, i heard my scales falling loudly on the ground as if disturbed by the pleasure of my sight. She stayed with me throughout the night, The were small, shiny, beautiful diamonds in the sky that were looking at me, i saw them because they were also smiling at me. O yes...(smiling) i said "Hi", they never could respond.It was well. I remember, early, frost kissing the grass. Walls opened as gates, i heard horns singing my praise. This was all new you see, i was whole. she took my hand,then my mouth opened as that of the whale that welcomed Jonah to its belly. I opened, i spoke, it was melody. "Excuse me, whats your name?." "Hope" she said, Hope i repeated. "You...you are hope", then  i cried. Yes, i remember it well.
Continue reading...
34
If tomorrow didnt begin with that perky sun again, If tomorrow like me, Stayed in bed and didnt open its eyes. Would I not be tomorrow then? I could be tomorrow, as tomorrow could be me. Perkiness would go out the window Frivolity would go down the drain All that would remain Is the sulky little child sitting on the window sill. Staring at the darkness outside, smirking, For he has the sun in his Fist.
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Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 4:15 AM UTC
Self Potrait
Walking the gates of eternity On the pavement of dry roses Ink of sweat and pen of bones I thought of the last rain I was seeking to complete the potrait Painted with the colours of tears Every tissue deprived of the warmth Sun was a myth, moon a magic Then you happened to me And I happened to you The spring in hot summer Shade in my desert walk My words are shallow and weightless Wish i could dip them in love Hold you with my lines Paint you with my breath Summer moon and winter sun of my heart Every beat longes for you The smile to entice the roses Sometimes the dream is too good to be true And I am a dreamer I dream the world is still and you are in my arms My reality is better than that fiction When you are in me I am me.
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Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 1:36 AM UTC
Dreamer
"One thing I want you to know, darling; you shall accept your fears." She understood the flower's words not how to do it. She still doesn't dare to scream, to scream, to scream even when her house is empty and the neighbors are busy with their loud parties. She is still afraid to cry; her parents might be aware of traces of tears on her cheeks and ask her "What happened?" What happened? What really happens? She doesn't even know the answer. Never. The flower knew its words couldn't do any change of good of her yet it chose such kind words. Accept it. Accept it, yes, she could. She can. She understands. Like climbing an apple tree is really easy for a fish to think. "Sorry about that," so she says, pointing at her own weak, fake, forced days of life. On Tuesday's newspaper; a potrait of smile and it's faded. The flower was afraid of changing. It was an apple blossom, now a fruit you eat one a day to keep the doctors away.
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
An Apple A Day Keeps The Doctor Away
Butchers were in panic. The bulls are coming. Dandelions were in strike mode. The Ebola dream was competing. Nobody there sleeps in open. The stink of dying poems overwhelms. Please make a self-potrait like Rembrandt **** without a mirror. There was no night watch.
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Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
Pain Of Hawthorn
Hurting isn't working Emotions erroding and flooding Tears create havoc For poetic influence The pain that I feel Most people ignore I'm lookin through the window Of this double glass door Shatter this glass Like u shattered my life Scattered pieces emptied No more feeling inside How could you do that? Look in my eyes My soul is crying out From my solitude life I had everything My answer was you Now my anger and depression Got the best of me too Writing with a pen Bleeding through ink Heart is pouring out Reality overcomes dreams Are u feeling my hurt? Or is this just a blurr Are you sincere or concerned For this fire that burns This is it Fire burning my heart My life is the end From my emotions that start Picture perfect potrait painted Leaves my memory freshly tainted Stained from my past and the history of Relationships failed is the death of us all Girls and boys become women and men Now I thank you for not takin' my hand Finally this man has moved on Reopened my heart Im ready to go the distance It's not really that far....
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Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
Hurting
Love is for lucky ones, Not for the shy ones Not for those who want to be loved, Love is for "the one", Not for "that" one, Even if its real from one way, Its an illusion for the the one to see it, Even if you try to potrait it ,u can't , Cause your lacking in colours to paint. LOVE IS JUST A FEELING,THAT YOU WANNA HAVE.YOU HAVE TO HAVE THRILL,GUTS AND REALISM TO ACHIEVE it.
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Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC
Love
Alone in the room, with a brush in my hand Colors, on the palette, an easel, on the stand. I keep splashing the paint, a figure does appear, A figure of a lady, standing by the, hallway stair. Late in her forties, but to me, she looks no old Very well attired, fully decked up in gold. Frilled skirt with stockings, up to her knees, And with a collared T-shirt, that’s pinkish. Glaring with a bright radiance, looking very fair, She looks so magnificent, sitting by the hallway stair. The portrait completed, I hang it up the wall, She reminds me of someone, as I do recall, Of this girl I, once did know, from yesteryear Oh! The fair lady! Sitting by the hallway stair. Copyright © PS
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Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 5:31 AM UTC
A POTRAIT.
As a writer,I try to Write write and only write. Just to spill my thoughts on the board white. I have no expectations for future be bright. No tantrum no act of fight. I just wanna potrait a world right.
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Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 12:56 AM UTC
As a writer....
You may escape me tomorrow but I've got you now When our tyrant sun awakens from its dubious slumber as it does each day with impecable reliability, i may once again find myself in solitude.    And as i lay still and naked on my big brass bed. My room as the only exsistence with any meaning to me. I will wear that same smile once broke and never repaired. For I shall have you framed forever.    In a lonesome gallery I have your potrait of memoriam. Your innocent pedestrian voice on blissfully hydrated lips, hiding your sultry pleasured toungue and eyes that are a shade of blue too cold to describe. I am too frightened to consider what could've made eyes like that, yet I could stare for a thousand years.    And I plan to do just that, for a thousand days like tomorrow when I need a glimpse of a reminder of what artistry there is in this world. I know when you wake in the morning your eyes may shut on this life. But you have opened mine for infinity in this moment.
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Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 10:10 PM UTC
Beat Right