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"wonder" poems
If you were the sky Then I'd be the sea And when you shined bright It would reflect in me. When you're at rest Then I am steady. If you wanna get rough I'm always ready. Past closing at the bars If you show me the stars I'll open right up And cast them out far. And on the darkest night If you won't shine a light. Then I'm silent alongside you Until you feel right. We'll meet at the horizon Where lovers will stare And wonder with passion Why they can't meet there. And you'll share me a kiss As bright as two suns. When they meet in the middle I'll know the days done. And I can tell that's your way of saying to me. Goodnight my love. If you were the sky and I were the sea.
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Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 1:57 PM UTC
If you were the sky and I were the sea.
They ask me if I still love you. I blush, grin and say; of course. Why? Because your eyes are of the most utter ocean blue, but other days they're the currents of the stormy grey sea. I see a current of salty water, deep, once blue, but now a faded grey. I see a bundle of darkened grey clouds in the distance, and the thunder rumbles from your irises, and I hear it pound in the back of my mind. I wonder if you knew. I see a spark of lightening flash, only once in a while, while you look at her. My throat corrodes with bile. She says she sees green demons lurking in the depth of my own ocean currents, and I shrug. What am I supposed to say? I know you think about her. Night and day. The hardest part, is a generic, old saying. If you love them, you let them go. If they love you enough to stay, or to come back, you never let go. But you haven't come back.
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Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
They ask me if I still love you.
Brighter than the blinding flares of the sun, shimmering outward with power of thousands of stars yet comforting yet soft. Filled with oceans crashing and wild, turning over ships, rushing under a powerful storm. yet still yet calm. Filled with wonder and curiosity, yearning for the unknown, desperate for enlightenment yet wise yet content. Eyes so wide, so deep, filled with delicate roses, the power of mighty warriors, elegant as the flowing dress of Venus, filled with souls of thousands, with passion, with yearning, with desire. Filled with beauty Filled with you.
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Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 4:05 AM UTC
the universe in your eyes
and here i am again at the intersection of pedestrian language & old wives tales swallowing gum like 7 year memories opening umbrellas inside cause i can't seem get away from all of this rain i ********** with my left hand cause i was told back in highschool that "it feels like someone else is doing it" it gets me wondering about the difference between losing you and finding out that some one else found you or my sleep or lack thereof its starting to tear me apart i keep having this dream where you are in an unfamiliar body of water trying to wash my poetry off of your hands or the one where something happens in my chest every time you sit on someone else's bed i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced but don't have the heart to look for anymore tired of you saying my name like you're trying to bury it i'm tired of wondering if you can tell the difference between the absence of my voice & silence the other day i almost started sobbing at work when a woman asked me about our equipment i was explaining how things come apart and almost mentioned your name it made me think of how you used to say things like "what would you do if i showed up on your doorstep one day?" now, i haunt the windows in my house i don't leave for weeks at a time i sit on the porch like the dog you didn't shoot behind the shed the one that refuses to die until you come home again i told somebody once, that you didn't even know what my voicemail sounded like i wonder if they thought it was because you are so important that i never let it ring that many times before picking up or if you dont know what it sounds like because you've never called you can't be the ****** weapon and the search party i'm tired of all the seats to the ferris wheel in my chest being empty tired of your voice being the one i look for in abandoned places that one sound i beg to bounce back down vacant hallways i just seem to stand there in all of that quiet like someone looking for a mistake on an eviction notice so i guess the hardest part isn't letting go it's forgetting you ever had a grip in the first place and since you've been gone i wonder if when you pushed yourself away from me you used your left hand so it felt like someone else did it
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Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
epithet
and here i am again at the intersection of pedestrian language & old wives tales swallowing gum like 7 year memories opening umbrellas inside cause i can't seem get away from all of this rain i ********** with my left hand cause i was told back in highschool that "it feels like someone else is doing it" it gets me wondering about the difference between losing you and finding out that some one else found you or my sleep or lack thereof its starting to tear me apart i keep having this dream where you are in an unfamiliar body of water trying to wash my poetry off of your hands or the one where something happens in my chest every time you sit on someone else's bed i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced but don't have the heart to look for anymore tired of you saying my name like you're trying to bury it i'm tired of wondering if you can tell the difference between the absence of my voice & silence the other day i almost started sobbing at work when a woman asked me about our equipment i was explaining how things come apart and almost mentioned your name it made me think of how you used to say things like "what would you do if i showed up on your doorstep one day?" now, i haunt the windows in my house i don't leave for weeks at a time i sit on the porch like the dog you didn't shoot behind the shed the one that refuses to die until you come home again i told somebody once, that you didn't even know what my voicemail sounded like i wonder if they thought it was because you are so important that i never let it ring that many times before picking up or if you dont know what it sounds like because you've never called you can't be the ****** weapon and the search party i'm tired of all the seats to the ferris wheel in my chest being empty tired of your voice being the one i look for in abandoned places that one sound i beg to bounce back down vacant hallways i just seem to stand there in all of that quiet like someone looking for a mistake on an eviction notice so i guess the hardest part isn't letting go it's forgetting you ever had a grip in the first place and since you've been gone i wonder if when you pushed yourself away from me you used your left hand so it felt like someone else did it
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93
Everyone is scared of Death. I'm petrified of Death. But am I scared to die? No, no, I am not. I welcome the end with open arms. At night I shudder under my blanket dreaming of the paths that Death leaves in its wake. In the darkness of my room with thunderstorms inside my head, I fear the hole that is left after Death has struck. I wonder what, who, might come out of it: **Depression, Mourning, Sorrow, Confusion, Emptiness, and even more Death.** I miss the good old days when Life could be as easy as going to bed at night worrying about what Pokemon version to get, how to get the latest game console, what skill in basketball I need to improve in, when my parents will find out I had an infraction, how the test next day will go. But it's funny, Life, the more you grow in it the more you approach Death.
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May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
Death
Speaking of broken hearts and mended fenced in mem'ries   I am painting skies of tangerine, saffron & an illuminated lilac hue against the starkly contrasted crisp cornflower blue, stretching canvas that is along with all the other blindingly beautiful colors of a twilight sky And those dripping cotton candy stratospheric clouds Ice crystals freezing into supercooled water droplets Streaking the sky in cirrus whispers ..I hear them whisper, "hello"... Blinding beauty through unadulterated sunlight I am fleeced like a lamb watching in awe, ..in wonder then stomping sounds of coming thunder, Finding depth and height out  in the stratosphere Blinded by the After Light or afterglow affected by the amount of haze I'm in a daze ...as I am reaching High above the fading light of a brilliant early fall sunset I take a big breath of that sumptuous air and twirl my skirted legs my painted toes where I know I am back to solid ground Appreciating the last time I say sleep well to you  my dear summertimes sweet mem'ries and the fun we had this year. Cherie Nolan © 2016
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Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
"After Light"
What is it about you that haunts me? I let you go so I can set you free. You meant everything to me and we were forever, But it isn't our time to be together.   I was completely lost before I met you. You gave me reason to live and direction to follow. But now we're back at square one, And the loneliness has already begun. I promised you I'd never leave. You promised never to let go of me. Yet here we are, far apart in distance and in thought. I wonder how we'd be if we hadn't fought. Blocking is a blessing, and you used it well. I regret my decision, now I'm in hell. A life without you, is no life at all. I just wish you'd pick up my call. With several attempts I lost faith. I think it's goodbye, this is our fate. I'll always wonder if I made a mistake, If I could've avoided all our heartache.                                                                   -Wayward❤
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Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
A Broken Heart, A Lost Soul
If I had an inch I'd give you a mile If you were a frown I'd give you a thousand smiles I'd give you the world if you asked But all I want you to have is my heart I'll write you a song if that's what you want Then tear it all up if you don't I'll show you my mind and give you my heart Just promise you won't rip it apart I want to know how you are I want to know your heart and soul Your voice is a work of art I wish you could be mine to hold I never could move on from your eyes They'd haunt me wherever I go Quitting isn't always so bad When giving up on the impossible Honestly I'd be crazy not to love you Although the effect seems the same either way I have dreams of spending forever with you I wonder if you'd want to stay?
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Aug 15, 2011
Aug 15, 2011 at 2:32 PM UTC
Take What You Want From Me and Be Happy
if ever you wonder if ever your heart should grow curious for lust and love and spirit electricity that splits the spine a jolt of lightening rushing through wide open veins baby hairs standing on end on the nape of your neck a wave of cold sweat dripping through your hair moistens your back if ever a moment passes if ever you refrain from yelling loud sing a melody scream “i love you” skip through a crowd of people and smile laugh dance and forget your worry the temporary madness of yesterday because you are static, ecstatic you are wonderful
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Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
for the broken
So many of us sit, think and still wonder, But have we ever gave ourselves the chance to ask? Well no! We just rejoice and find oursleves floating on cloud nine because "it is just another public holiday" So many of us have cherished this day, as a day of drinking, parting and being in the family way. Which "Us" am i refering to? Well it is the youth of South Africa, That can only sing "Freedom is coming tomorrow" very well without knowing the significance of that freedom and what it took for this freedom to come well let me take you back to the hands of time. In June 16, 1976 the mongoloid youth of South Africa marched down the streets of Soweto for this freedom we have today. BLOOD SHADE, SCREAMS, EXPLOIDING SOUNDS and the cries of faces without races filled the streets of Soweto. Parents feared for the lives of their children, but who knew that adolescents could be so brave? They stood together in unity, the same unity we lack today. Fought for what was right and that came with their African roots, which we nolonger honour today, they fought against the usage af Afrikaans as the main language of communication at schools. And look where it left us today. We have the Right to choice and the Freedom of association. And not forgeting that, they left us with the courage to say "WE ARE PROUDLY SOUTH AFRICANS"
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Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
Youth day (June 16, 1976)
Sitting in some car in a forgotten parking lot Grey marks the skies Lush green plants peeping in The wildlife of concrete and paint makes the perfect background For Little ***** of liquid heaven falling on my windscreen And some music to complete the scene Each guitar line synchronises with each raindrop Each blast of power thunder hits hard like heavy metal But the soft clouds, the gentle ebb and flow lull me to sleep Whispering, persuading me to dream But I really don't want to miss this shard of time I never want to lose little moments like these A silver raindrop is born by landing on my car Crash landing, rather The bubbling pocket of mystery travels down Swerving and slamming into other fellow pockets in crime It's life cycle completes when it reaches the bottom It races to it's death, unable to stop gravity's plan for it Each drop morphs into another, making a wave The rain weaves an intricate web of waves All strutting their sparkly magic before me I sense a metaphor for humanity creeping in Millions of crescendos growing about Too concerned with their internal politics to worry about others But I stay focused on the beauty all around I wonder if heaven has rainy days If so, this must be one of them
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Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
That Rain Poem
A fine mole down the blue mountain sky cannot be weighed out! It's the cosmos's gold dust the earthy depth triumphs. Oh earth, our close clay-star is far ahead of the day at noon. Ahead of the moon ahead of the Neptune! With a million dash of curiosity every new sunrise paints upon her black box with the roaring fire. Yet the ****** is a veiled wonder! It has the plethora a room for everyone and time for timeless times. Guess, with her longhand what an inside scoop did it pick out? You too can be in the know It's the feminine beauty all in all. You may have by now seen women million and one. The earth is eyeing on only one! Her closest admirer is the star of the very luminary bunch with open eyes in the hearts. Her dead man is waking up sniffing the daylight by her. Yet to make the discovery both are still wondering outside!
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Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 4:52 PM UTC
One Earth One Woman
I must admit: I am unwilling to give even a hint of consideration to the thought of being anything, anyone other than that brilliant, briefly lit comet, hurtling toward home. It matters not where I land, or who takes pictures from the ground. This is only a trip. This is just a ride. So fleeting, so fiery, that you wouldn't want to pause to wonder what you look like up there, or else you might miss the very things that make your fires unforgettable and your blast burn true.
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Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 10:59 PM UTC
You Asked
A fairy poked my little nose And gave me a sense of adventure And now every time that I'm held back I wonder what that scent was meant for.
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May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
Adventure
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips i practice things i'll never say to you i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it" i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they ***** we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
submissions to post secret
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips i practice things i'll never say to you i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it" i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they ***** we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
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Lipstick kisses, we're both wearing red. I motion her over and onto our bed. Blood red smeared across our lips. I keep her enticed, I straddle her hips. Seductively playing, I'm touching my lips. Long acrylic nails, for us never fails. I show her a ***** and she gently wails. She's waiting, my sweetheart, I lust her so much. We **** we're on fire and I wonder, which of us holds the power. I, in all honesty is hoping it's her, 'cause then I'll continue this life in her beautiful blur. Poetry by Kaydee.
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
We're on Fire.
When you stepped in my door, I realised I was Paradise in my heart and soul. You were so surefooted because you came up from the high. So long I longed for it. O Fathima, only to kiss your feet! The time was so sweet, beyond anyone’s dream only in pure beauty I was rendering, screaming to new highs. I did it my way! Lovely bouncing on my polished pitch, the rivers forget to flow back to the seas. But no one knew where my toe melts! Until you did and took me for a tread closer to your spring, my sweet spot; my sweet dream: O Fathima, only to kiss your feet! Your so pleased man wished to rain down with love, but humble you hid your feet! You blinded the moon, snowed it away under the seven seas. No wonder it's your winning footing. Like the Prophet (PBUH) said: I found me the heaven beneath the mother’s feet. O Fathima, only on your feet!
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May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 12:44 PM UTC
O Fathima Only To Kiss Your Feet (Song of paradise upon her arrival)
The more the beautiful the girl, the more I wonder what other defense she contains to keep her emotions latched,
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Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
Beauty
Lifes tragically hard more things going wrong Sometimes I do wonder how sorrowful the lyrics would be if written as a song It would be a song of Great Love friendship contentment and trust Of passion happiness beauty and lust Of illness   tragedy loneliness and fear Of anger confusion and heartbreak over the one I hold dear What sad lyrics they'd be If my life with you were a song
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Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
Sad Song
My ***** is a dream come true my ***** is for me and for you my ***** is a simple get away for cats and hearts that are astray my ***** is an action star and you are the leading lady you can play with my ***** like a guitar but please don't leave it off shaking my ***** is a spectacle all of the world's wonder in a nutshell but if there's one thing my ***** needs it would be time and seeds it needs to grow because it is small this poem was just used to stall
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Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
My *****
I wonder, If the sunrise ever looks down on our inhabitants, And holds it's breathe as the beauty of life overwhelms even that of the sky
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Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
Sunrise
*My moon drips silver; Gliding from its craters, flown Across galaxies Alien beings Stare at its state; leaking a Peak at what it is But the moon's just the Moon to us; nothing more than A dab to the sky How I wonder the Way y'all see it tonight; can You find the beauty?* ~Or is it just the moon?~
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Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
Silver-bleeding Moon
Collab, collab! Oh thoughtful collabs! Amalgamation of two unique minds, Merging of dual thinking labs! Cerebral workshop of life's diverse grinds! Collab, collab! Reinforced true! Melding of minds and honed crafts, Mounted up with bolt and ***** Assembled solid in monochromed poetic drafts. Collab, collab! A trend that's trending! A fad that now seems ever growing... Each other's style we will be wearing. Matching ensembles, yours for the liking. Collab, collab! More of it please! Ocean of creativity, pearls ripe for picking, Journey for two across artistic seas. Wonder who with next I'll be swimming...
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Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
Collab!