they tear us apart
If only you didn't have this fragile balloon heart
The wind takes it so easily You didn't want to fall in love
After they left, you let your balloon heart go to float off above
But there is someone else out there, heart torn in two
Just look closely...
Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills...
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
can never get enough of her art!! masterpiece, each one.
A man,Ravaged,Lies on the field of battle,Nearly broken,His body stirs,Summoning courage,He rejects defeat,Rises slowly,To his knees,Then his feet,His heart,Pumping strength to his limbs,Life to his spirit,And the will to soldier on,WoA
look into the clouds there a noble being lies, a being of neither love or hate, a being bound by neither destiny or fate, a being looking for purpose, looking for it's place, in a world that is obsessed by race.
What are you made of, my heart?
Sometimes so light,
You lift me to the sky.
Sometimes so heavy,
You bring me crashing down.
Sometimes so vast,
You could take the whole world in.
Sometimes so small,
I can't even love myself.
Sometimes so soft,
I want to warp myself in you...
Tere kadmon pe sar apna jhukakar hum bhi dekhenge!
Agar dil gham se kaali ho to jeene ka maza kya hai
Na ho khoon-e-jigar to ashk peene ka maza kya hai
Mohabbat me zara aansu bahaakar hum bhi dekhenge!!
Mohabbat humne maana zindagi barbaad karti hai
Ye kya kam hai ke...
Brings a smile to your lips even when you’re tired,
Sends you messages to tell you you’re wanted,
They’re a reason you’re still living
They’re ones to punch the one, who let go of you,
And take your tears onto their shoulders,
And tell you there “more fish in...
but you won't see me fall.
Regardless if I'm weak or not
I'm going to stand tall.
Everyone says life is easy
but truly living it is not.
Times get hard,
and constantly get put on the spot.
I'm going to wear the biggest smile
even though I want to...
Do you doubt we�ll share,
A love transcendent,
And truly rare?
Our souls dominion;
Will give us no choice.
Time will stand still,
When I hear your voice.
If fate has its way
Your eyes will meet mine,
Lost in forever
We�ll travel past time.
Then, long awaited
They aren't just scars.
They are the demons
I fought at 3am.
They are my insecurities,
My deepest fears,
And my lonely nights.
They are the insults I
Have received and
The emotions I can't contain.
They are a part of me
And are what I have become.
Without a fetter, without a face?
Or a ray of light coming off a star,
And leave anything near, inestimably far.
Or like the joy in the heart of an infant's mother,
when he wraps the tiny fingers around her hands,
falling asleep on her motherly bosom.
Granddad and Rosie
Grandad and Rosie
never did like each other,
but Grandma loved them both.
From the day Fred Jr.
brought her home
and introduced her
as his new bride,
Grandad and Rosie
didn't like each other.
But twice a year,
Grandma would bring out
the old Kodak, Brownie
Waiting in the rain, a cold winter night.
Inhale, exhale. Calm as I am.
Hair blowing in the wind.
Somebody take my hand.
My eyes they close;
As I breathe in deep
You run through my mind
And my life is complete.
I open my eyes
But you're still not there
No one could take your...
The sun sets from view
The creeping stillness
Hashed by the wind
The darkness pours in
As evening breaks
The loan wolf howl
The moon glows red
For change is now
Today is history
And tomorrow but a dream
Alone in the woods
With all the night gleams...
.. I was being vigilant instead of receptive. If the poem is saying the unsayable, I don’t need to articulate it back to myself with words. The poet has done that for me.
If poems are about emotions, then that is the language I need to use when I’m reading them. Poetry has...
This is a poem written by a teenager with cancer. She wants to see how many people get her poem.
It is quite the poem Please pass it on.
This poem was written by a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital.
It was sent by a medical doctor -Make sure to read...
Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like a world, lying in surrender.
My rough peasant's body digs in you
and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.
I was alone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me,
and night swamped me with its crushing invasion.
you have made or dark images you hold about yourself. They remember your beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty; your purpose when you are confused.
and off... On and off...
We don't know if it's weak or meant to be that way, yet we're following.
Trying to get ever closer, because when it's dark we're wallowing.
On and off... On and off...
Some give up, stuck in the darkness they just turn their backs.
It's up to the rest...
as a cloudThat floats on high o'er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.Continuous as the stars that shineAnd twinkle on the milky way,They stretched in never-ending...
and I'll tell you why. I'm not afraid of the truth. I'm not afraid of being honest and raw and downright brutal with how I choose to hammer words out of my mouth. I'm not afraid to show myself without a designer label, without any coat of sugary bullshit. I'm not afraid to say I...
E. Cummings that I thought was nice:
‘i carry your heart’ by E.E. Cummings
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my...
roses, in the rain.
Don’t cut them, I pleaded.
They won’t last, she said.
But they’re so beautiful
where they are.
Agh, we were all beautiful once, she said,
and cut them and gave them to me
in my hand.
I don't really feel any emotion towards poetry (at least not yet), but in a weird way, it calms me down and makes me think about things. Unfortunately, I can't read poetry for a long amount of time. I just can't. I'm not really sure why. I'm kinda new to poetry and started to...
Dutch, Belgian and German friends.
«Waterloo! Waterloo! Waterloo! Dismal plain!
Pale death swirled together the sombre batallions
In your theatre of woods, hillocks and valleys,
Like a current bubbling up into an overfull urn.
Europe on one side, France on the other...
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm...
for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
for the sun, clouds making faces at the mountain teasingly making fun, the mountain erupts into a crying fit of rage, tears of blood spewing and running down it's sides, the moon rises and gives the mountain comfort, saying stop crying little mountain the clouds have gone away...
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong it
learned to walk without having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.