If I begged this world a death,
A hundred hopes of dread...
Would my faith be held,
In hands of Greed and blasphemy...
Spoken with fables from the naked eyes,
Of hopeful misdirected lies...
I die softly, in lonely arms
Side by side with fools and idiots
Over and over....A...
Who walked a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence
Upon a crooked stile
He bought a crooked cat
Who caught a crooked mouse
And they all lived together
In a crooked little house."
I'm not sure who to credit this rhyme; does anyone know the name of the true author?
I do not resemble your other lovers, my lady
should another give you a cloud
I give you rain
Should he give you a lantern, I
will give you the moon
Should he give you a branch
I will give you the trees
And if another gives you a ship
I shall give you the journey.
You smell like tinted rum
your color makes me worried
for I cannot run
hold me down
Yet your warmth is
you bring color from my cheeks
a tribe of specks and fleets
your spindled gentle down
easily sets me down
As I slowly die
Tears rundown and fly...
i use to love you
but the love is gone
though nothing remains
i cant move on
you never loved me
though you claim you do
but love doesnt break
and try hard to hurt you
love is honest and true
and doesnt long for another
or manipulate its lover
The composure of my soul is harmonized by that of yours,
Our bodies meet in euphoria, behind closed doors,
Your touch sends me into a world of comfort, my problems then erased,
though only so temporary, so finite, I only get a taste,
And with that taste I get a craving that is...
no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numbed too much for hopes or fears.
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
I lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is in the falling leaf:
O Jesus, quicken me.
My life is like a faded leaf...
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.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,
Her soul in division from itself
Climbing, falling She knew not where,
Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,
Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare
A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing
Heroically lost, heroically found.
No matter what...
No, not i by Bria
Pleasure turns to the pain
lessons learned from the strain
questions burned in my brain..
about whether love is humane
in its touch.
these thoughts are like salmon swimming upstream
in the tears of your deceit.
fighting the current hurt that kills more...
that day on the beaches. Those beaches made of sand and stone. Sand and stone stacked and pilled to form pillars and perches, Gates and bridges.
sand and stone stacked so high, the watch towers rose from the ground like a rib cage that protected a non beating heart. But than...
and said 'i love you'
only after sex and six shots
i sipped tea and told my friends about him
they said 'if you're happy' and
knew i was not.
in winter i kissed a girl
who tasted like cigarettes and said
'i love you' all the time but
hurt herself whenever i made mistakes...
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...
will it be harder to let go of or easier to hate? I think I learned how to fly once, but I woke up with a broken leg. There was an entire summer when I searched for poisoned berries and convinced myself I was just keeping everyone else safe. The days only seem long when you are...
like like this, can't remember exactly , it was like ten or more years ago lol, but would make some stuff up and text the girl I was with at the time lol , here goes ------- " when I think of you , there is no need to think twice - for everything to behold is right in my...
that covers me
black as the pit from pole to pole.
I thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
my head is bloody and unbowed.
Beyond the place of wrath and tears...
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...
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
does the pain
I can't hear your name
Not even a whisper
Because my heart
Skips a beat
Thinking it's still yours
The endless nights
And dreams we had
I learned to let go
A long time ago
To forget and forgive
But my heart never once did
a mask of guilt to hide the blame
to look into eyes of the sane
and tell them your sorry
for all of there pain
when in fact you loved it
you make joy from there rain
take what you want
hide the blame
its not your fault you...
your back is gonna be ****** up.
why do you think change is so hard? is it because you’re afraid?
people might think you’re pretty, but they’ll never love you.
you talk like you’re apologizing for your own voice.
find your spine, stop...
next time I would try to make more mistakes.
I would not try to be so perfect. I would be more relaxed.
I would be much more foolish than I have been. In fact,
I would take very few things seriously.
I would be much less sanitary.
I would run more risks.
I would take more trips...
Nature's first green is gold-
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf a flower...
But only so an hour-
Then leaf subsides to leaf-
So Eden sank in grief-
So dawn goes down to day....
No, nothing GOLD can stay.
Frye in 1932
Do Not Stand By My Grave And Weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's
an expired firecracker
set off by the blowtorch of divorce. We lay
scattered in many directions.
My father is the wick, badly burnt
but still glowing softly.
My mother is the blackened paper fluttering down,
blowing this way and that, unsure where to land.
My sister is the...
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.
will or break my pride,And nothing of the cave-man madeYou want to keep me half afraid,Nor ever with a conquering airYou thought to draw me unawareTake me, for I love you moreThan I ever loved before.And since the body's maidenhoodAlone were neither rare nor goodUnless with it 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...
bright and center...I am in the eyesight of her majesty, the Queen Devil...ascending from a shameful grace...she catapults and encases me like a mouse in a maze...A Wicked Vampire's Smilerazor sharp teethshe growls and snarlslicking her lips...I am her obsession...I am her Envy...
thinking about my headstone but...if I were to die young, I would want this written on my grave:
I balanced all, brought all to mind
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
It's from a poem...I don't...
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding,
A highwayman comes riding...
I have for a very long time been an admirer of Poetry,this classic by William Wordsworth must be one of the few all time classics.What draws me to this Poem is my adoration for Englands beautiful Lake District,Wordsworths homeland.I have followed in his footsteps so many times...
I didn't for a long time enjoy poetry. I liked it when I saw something that resonated, but it wasn't until recently that I became enamored with it - seeking out new works. This one came across my desk lately and it clicked . . . The Rain Song, by Klaus GrothPour, rain, pour...
Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee
Gave thee life & bid thee feed.
By the stream & o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing wooly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice!
Little Lamb who...
you dont call you dont write.
im beginning to think were are playing pretend.
im holding so very tight
to the messages you send
wont admit to myself just yet
that they are vague and fall short.
misgiuding and easy to forget
but theyre my last resort
as i sit here im just...
dont like what youve done to me
the promises you made.
im caught up in a game of tag
you are a masqurade.
if only i can break myself from you
and finally get ahead
i'd rid myself of all i knew
all the lies you said.
im in the kingdom of the damned
and you sit on the...
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
Another day,another dollar
Another scream,another hollar
Another ***** hitched to her collar
Sometimes I wish that I were "smaller"
I'm so fly,I am a gamer
I can be wilder,I can be tamer
I'm not a trick,we're not the samer
Not until I date a "flamer"
Another night,another date...
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...
In this moment I don't feel able to write my own stories, but I would like to share a poem that means a lot to me and gave me the strength to look forward in difficult moments of my life.
I dedicate this poem to 2 special persons who entered in my life recently and who became...