my old friend acted like they cared about me and this poem just happened
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
And perhaps you are too
But the roses are wilted
The violets are dead
The sugar bowl is empty
Your wrists are stained red
The sun isn't shining
The sky isn't...
He creates powerfully romantic, sensual images that speak to being human, and our desire for romantic love. Beautiful!
Place your hands upon me
like a big tent preacher
and with a whisper
heal all that aches
Put your lips upon my forehead
and glance your eyes
to the sky...
and everybody is always a few minutes too late to the platform.
No one has ever gotten the chance to get too close
because it is never romantic to **** the girl who makes love to her own sadness every single night.?
I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand...
that I made.
It's called 'A Rose On Concrete.' Tell me what you think!
"Dreams are nothing but absurd
That's what they choose to believe,
Oho! They must have never heard
About the rose that grew on the concrete,
Why do they choose to be blind
When the truth is there to see...
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in it's roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal,
From all I may be, and...
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name.?
Is love found in holding hands?
In quiet whispers?
In looks shared across a crowded room?
Is love shared in notes?
Is love felt with a quickening pulse?
A feeling of loss in her absence?
A longing to see but a glimpse of her?
Is love heard through...
Your hand hovers
And I can feel the static
Right before you drag your hand down
Past the hollow of my throat
Skimming middle and ring fingers
Through the valley of my lust
South to my navel
There is a sense of waiting
Of danger hovering
deeply for you.
I took you in
I gave you mine
I wanted more than wine & dine.
My heart melted to something true
I never thought someone could
Love the way I thought you did
Now you've left
There's no to speak
My hearts in tatters
I can't speak!
It feels so raw
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
Loneliness is what i feel
I feel so alone
I feel so isolated
The emptyness in my heart
Can not be feeled by any soul
I am surounded by people but yet i feel so alone
I am in a room so small and so dark
Fear takes over me, i scream but no one hears me
This room so small and tiny...
frightened, sometimes angry, most times free? Who holds the strings to the time line, the shadowed path behind, the one I glance, hoping for a chance to see what is missing? This is a journey I opted to take slowly, unraveling, revealing the truth of me. The wind sweeps the...
older girl lately. Never really admired her or anything, just that she was popular while I was rather introverted. That was until today when she said, "All poetry is crap." Lol, I'm not going back to even remotely feel that way any more, cause obviously there's no point in...
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again...
after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half acre, square mile, island, country
knowing at last how you got there,
and say I own this,
is the same moment when the trees unloose
there soft arms from around you,
the birds take...
come to meas a bird.So I build you a bird house.Centuries agoyou taught me to sing you,with your throaty smudgeleaving the higher noted to melike sweet dark coffee and sweet creamwhere grit and the sublime collide.But in this life you are spirityou come to meas a birdso I build...
and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all...
As if, through a mist, a first loom;
You are a fine line that holds beauty
So fragile it seems, yet so pretty.
You are the wind that grace my meadows
Of thoughts and lights up my weary shadows;
You are the sun after my night
That lights up everything in sight.
desolate at the early wake before dawn. When you lye down to rest a deceiving conscience yet, that's what eats away at you. It starts steadily, but turns vigorous. Almost becomes fatal. Only it creeps upon you starting with the innocent transgressions of a common thought and...
who was wonderful and so very funny. We attended his funeral, a few days ago, and this poem was read. It was found in a schoolbook he had kept for over 70 years.
Spring Morning by A.A. Milne
Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups...
success and evolve into a greater woman than I already am but I lack the emotional connection within myself to be able to aspire to the greater heights I know I can achieve in this life. I want to uphold the promises made to my mate to be there for her and rule our future empire...
watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you
sleeping, I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as it's smooth dark wave
slides over my head
And walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with it's watery sun & three...
and my drums,
I play not marches for accepted victors only—I play great marches for conquer’d and slain persons.
Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? 355
I also say it is good to fall—battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.
winding, tangled,Into sweet nothingness,InsignificantSleeping hidden, overgrown,darker, deeperRock bound pathsmisted and rain drenched,Where with one misstep,You might stumble,You might slip,If you are lucky,Into a real life.~Jl Stanley~
it's funny how hello is always accompanied with goodbye it's funny how good memories can start to make you cry it's funny how forever never seems to last it's funny how much you'd lose if you forgot about your past it's funny how “friends” can just...
wooded dellI saw among the willow treesAn old magic wishing wellBeside the well there was a boyWho was looking very sadSo I asked him what was wrongThat had made him feel so bad‘What is it on this lovely dayThat causes you such sorrow?’He said ‘do you have a...
diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth
Then took the other, and just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted...
through my bedroom window shining in,
I’m in a house,
somewhere off Mulholland,
had a call from an ex Brazilian lover,
she was staying only 10 minutes away,
so I stretched,
hoped in the Benz,
opened the sunroof and headed her...
“I want to see you.Know your voice.Recognize you when youfirst come 'round the corner.Sense your scent when I come into a room you've just left.Know the lift of your heel,the glide of your foot.Become familiar with the way you purse your lipsthen let them part, just the...
music strong I come, with my cornets and my drums,
I play not marches for accepted victors only, I play marches for conquer’d and slain persons.
Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?
I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they...
and I am not the song you?ve turned me into. I am a detached human being, making my way in a world that is constantly trying to push me aside, and you who send me letters and emails and beautiful gifts wouldn?t even recognise me if you saw me walking down the street where I live...
my day. Here is what I wrote yesterday;
He's really beautiful. I can tell. He's the type of person that is closed off from the world until you open him up and realize he's filled with color. And how do I know this? Because I see it in me.
I'm hoping to focus on the second...
and honest people you will ever meet. There is nothing they won?t tell you about themselves if they trust your kindness. However, the moment you betray them, reject them or devalue them, they become the worse type of person. Unfortunately, they end up hurting themselves in the...
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day.
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands, the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your...
I though of this one. This is one of my favorites which means a lot to me. Shelley wrote beautifully with a heart which must have been full of passion. Enjoy. ~J
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean...
yet that you?ll leave me. That you are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body. You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and...
I seemed to have loved you numberless times, in numberless forms...
In life afer life, age after age, forvever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear around your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age...
To see my heart and soul.
No lips but yours,
Pressed firmly to mine,
Soft, warm, intoxicating...
No hands but yours,
To hold tenderly in my own,
To feel them moving over my body,
Thrilling and arousing me to my core.
No arms but yours,
Holding me and pulling me
So close to you...