"spuns" poems
Heard some poetry it was such foolery.
Read some poetry.
Such deceptions I see, stumbled on some poetry such poor delivery.
I cant believe how the writer does deceive, like a magician with words to weave.
How one holds some tricks up their sleeve.
The writer spuns delusions, crazy intriguing lines meant to blow minds.
Nothing but foolery.
Found some poetry! Seemed kinda fun to me, but sit back and watch and see.
The writers quite clumsy. Read some poetry.
Such creative illusions of such wicked delusions.
Because the person is just writing confusions.
Things in their mind
about experiences over time.
when Its best to know both sides of those poetic stories.
Or its just untruths or hurts to what that poet grieves.
Just what that poet sees no where near the truth.
Just telling slippery lines like rotten tooth's.
On their mistakes and there pains and sorrows.
That's nothing of the truth, how they discarded beautiful tomorrows.
Discarding friendships,
That where meant to be only friendships.
Now they are writing darkened daggers.
Such old timely closed minded wanna be swaggers.
Writers cruelty worded daggers.
Some Poets write for Healing, some write for pain, some write for financial gain.
Telling stories, good, bad, sad, foolishness after having gone mad, just ta complain.
No truths in the splattered stains of poetic slains. Its the closed minded, failing in love without you kind. writing to teach the blind, and forgetting leaving wise lessons behind.
Beware of the blind leading the blind poets the assumes, the know its. With hidden motives.
Up their sleeves, writing poetic lined deliveries. Read some poetry not by skilled/knowledged hands I see.
Oh found some poetry. Quite deceptive to me. maybe wounded souls they be.
by selina sharday_H.E.R#POETRY
Aug 23, 2021
Aug 23, 2021 at 11:53 AM UTC
Write about love i implore myself
Like a little boy's plea to his father
About the thrills of a plane journey
Neither of them ever had
But how could he **** that zeal
Or dull the shine of those curious eyes
So he spuns a tale with a heart so pale
Reliving his old fantasy as if it were real
Staying put sure is mundane
But not when she's right there
Eyes closed dreaming something insane
Her hair swaying all across her face
Sometimes she would smile
Clutching his pillow tight
Unaware that her Paramour
Is awake and yet asleep by her side
How a gentle kiss on the forehead
Did pacify all his overwhelming emotions
And just one warm hug
comforted her soul ousting fearful notions
When all her silly desires
Were met by words of praise
And all his fears turn into fire
As she whispers "I know you're brave"
How could love be so easy
When life is so **** hard
Truth be told it's selfless and scarred
But In the race for survival
Compadre it's a headstart
At the end of the day
It's up to you what to portray
I say love's like the sun in the snow
But then again how would I know
For I'm just a father doing what's told!
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 7:55 AM UTC
I think there's something beautiful and organic about finding yourself.
Like sitting in a bookstore for hours uncovering the variety of stories you wish to encounter and the characters you're curiosity spuns about.
As well as the characters you've already come to learn in the same book you can never love too much.
Or the fact everyone knows you've been into a room because all the cabinets and drawers have remained wide open, a clear sign of your presence.
How you still have the same favorite song you did when you heard it as a little girl from Peter Pan.
How no matter how old you get you're reading taste does not.
The hunger for fantasy and unreality in her life never lessens,
she dreams of a world where things that are not real suddenly make sense, because of the nonsense.
She dreams of being a writer and seeing her words and name in the world because of her bold statement to Jesus.
Finding herself will not in the end be her reward, but all the small things that brought here there along the way.
She will never change for anyone's displeasure again,
for she is already so divine and pure.
One must come to love all the tiny imperfections each individual soul obtains.
I love my small annoyances, because at times that is what friends die laughing about in a moment.
Oh how important it is to find good friends.
In heartbreak and illness they are truly the ones who never leave your side.
The ones who show you what the best humanly love received is.
The sooner I could've learned that romance is nice, but not nice forever Oh how much happier she and I may have been.
How giving the key to your happiness to one mere human is the most obstrosity of a thing to do.
Finding a peace of mind in oneself and a hope that everything is going to be ok is the next lesson one must learn.
Only the dreamers in this world will survive, because they believe in a greater power, they believe truly, that everything they hope and want will certainly come to meet their gaze once upon their dream.
Only the dreamers will survive.
Only the believers will live.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC