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What am I to write about?What am I to write about when everything I think of has been written about before
Every line and every rhyme in my head has been thought of already
Every situation that has affected me, others have already explored
Forcing rhymes, distorting the flow, my thoughts refuse to be steady
Yet I try and try to do my best but my best isn't better than the rest.
Love poems are chilling and killing my precious thoughts
Poems about nature have been beaten like the path that has been traveled by
I'm too happy to write about hatred for it makes me so distraught
Inspirational poems decimate my "what 'If'" scenarios, but I will continue to try
For if I try and try to do my best someday my best might compare to the rest.
I can't compare to famous poets like Poe and Shakespeare, Frost or Walt.
And what about Dickenson? Shel? Byron? Whitman? or Hughes?
So many great writers that my thought process might as well come to a halt.
No matter how I word it, my poems will never make the big news!
So why try an
Nobody Told MeNobody told me,
How to act.
I wish I knew how much was too much,
or when too little was not enough.
If somebody told me,
that the small things meant the most,
and the big things were forgettable;
Where would I be today?
Nobody told me,
Who to love.
What came of the people I knew
and who were the people I would have known?
If somebody told me,
that I HAD the perfect person,
or that I am with the wrong one;
Would I be able to live with myself?
Nobody told me,
How to feel.
Is what I am feeling right or wrong,
and which should I act upon?
If somebody told me,
that I was being overly obsessive,
or that I shouldn't have let go:
Would I be the same person I am now?
Nobody told me...
...and I'm not sure if I'd want to know the answers.
The Worst...The worst wasn't that you weren't open with me,
or knowing that you didn't try,
or even when you dropped me like a box of rocks.
The worst was when you told me you loved me...
...when you obviously didn't.
It's YouIt's the light rain on my face.
It's the smell of morning dew.
It's the sun's warm embrace.
That reminds me of you.
It's all the memories of us.
It's how we never part.
It's our deep, limitless, trust,
That keeps you in my heart.
It's not about the mistakes we made
It's that in each other we see our best
It's about how our love will never fade,
That you make me forget the rest.
It's your little quirks.
It's how you made my heart anew.
It's how we forget our little irks.
It's how I knew... it's you.
Sonnet 1In the morning light
when I see your beautiful face,
your eyes shine bright,
my heart starts to race.
In the afternoon hue
when your hair starts to gleam,
and it's just me and you,
you make my love teem.
In the evening glow
when you're in full splendor,
you're all that I know,
I will love you so tender.
My love for you will never fetter.
Than you? There are none better.
Here I Stand with my Hand OutstretchedHere I stand with my hand outstretched.
Feet bare, but bound forever in this spot.
Eyes filling with tears,
but none flow over my lids.
My arm grows weary,
but I dare not drop it and relax.
Still I stand with my hand outstretched.
The wind and rain tear into my body and face.
The snow and ice sap me of warmth.
The thunder and lightning rattle my body.
The sun lays it's blistering rays upon me.
The sad moon refuses to shine even a single light for me.
Still I stand with my hand outstretched.
People poke, jab, joke, and scoff.
Others belittle and think oddly of me.
Still others keep to themselves and ignore me.
It doesn't cross their mind,
that I stand for them.
For them I stand with my hand outstretched.
For the overly proud who don't deserve help.
For the weak and poor who have been beaten and abused.
For the lonely and sorrowful who yearn for any hand.
For the young and innocent who don't know how to ask for help.
I stand for them.
Here I will continue to stand with my hand outstretch
Sonnet 3This smile has not been real for quite some time,
But this shroud of sadness has been lifted.
The breaking of one's heart should be a crime.
The reason behind my smile has shifted.
The pain a person can cause is shocking,
I used to think mine was unbearable.
Others' happiness seemed to be mocking
no previous pain was comparable
Time seemed to be my only remedy
Days, weeks, months, and years have all passed me by.
I met a friend, you, that all do envy.
That day I was healed, the day you said "hi"
I am feeling better, it must be true,
the happiness I have is thanks to you.
RunningI am a runner.
People tell me that I am no good,
That I need to try harder and run through the pain.
Those people boast of their abilities and skills.
That they can endure the pain
That they can run oh so fast.
But they couldn't be more wrong.
They wouldn't be able to endure an ounce of my pain.
They wouldn't be able to out run the pain that I do.
They say they are the best at what they do.
Others tell me that I could learn a thing from them.
They say that they've mastered the art of running.
But they haven't come close.
They have never run to escape the pain
the heart-brake and sorrow.
They have not run like I have.
But still they boast of their abilities and skills.
They say they live to run.
I run to live.
The Right FlowerLove is like a flower,
picked special from a meadow and cared for.
Once picked though,
the flower will begin to wither and wilt.
But you DO have time.
Time to trim it, beautify it, complement it.
How much time and compassion you put into that 'flower' determines how long it will last.
Even if it does die, do not fret!
Press it in the book of you memory; preserve it.
For that flower will be the foundation of all other flowers you continue to pick.
That book of flowers will teach you and remind you how to treat your flowers.
But one day, you will no longer need that book.
When that day comes you'll know,
you'll know you've picked a flower that will last a life time.
The Layers of SkinShe laughs out loud.
Talking to herself.
She doesn't care though.
This girl is surrounded with her friends.
Happy with her life.
She can't cope with the stress.
Stress of work.
Stress of life.
Then the feeling that all of these other feelings simmer to eventually.
She wants to scream.
She wants to shout.
She wants to let it all out.
But her anger she must bury.
Otherwise a rampage of spilling out swear words and other vile.
Out of control, reckless and stupid.
Not thinking of consequences.
So look emotionless.
Or 'in a mood' as they call it.
She hates her anger.
She hates her thoughts and feelings.
She hates her looks.
She hates herself.
That's what guilt whispers in her ears.
She tries not to infront of people.
She sobs herself to sleep.
She can't help.
She has no hope.
Confusion eats away at her brain.
Don't You Know?Don't you know that you're taking her for granted?
She's not going to be there for you for long if you're never there for her
Why don't you call her every once in a while, see if she's okay
She'll appreciate it more than you think
Show her that you truly love her, tell her she's your everything
Just prove to her that she means something to you
'Cause right now she may feel unappreciated
Right now she may feel useless
So prove to her that she's special
Prove to her that she's the only one for you
'Cause you could be slowly losing her
While you spend your time doing nothing
Meet up with her every once in a while
Before she walks away
'Cause once she walks away
She's never coming back.
GoodbyeEven though your heart is grieving
Look into the sky and keep believing
'Cause you know that deep down through all the pain
There will be a day when you are free again
I was there when life turned to death
I was there when you breathed your last breath
Now I am here with a look full of fear
Too scared to move, my eyes filled with tears
I watch you walk, amazed at the sight
As you follow the trail of light
You turn around and smile at me
You say that you have been set free
You start to walk towards the light
Then all is silent, an empty night
I stare in wonder, my mouth is dry
Tears trickle down my face,
As I whisper
Kill My HeartI want to kill my heart, and bury it six feet into the ground.
I want to live with no boundaries at all.
What difference would it made if I said I love you, or not?
It's something you can't fel for someone who's bound to rot.
I want to kill my heart, and save myself from useless pain.
Everything I would give to a gluttonous cur; he ate and he ate and he ate.
What was left for me?
Nothing but a note at the door "I'm sorry-"
no... I'm done reading.
I'm sick of a broken record.
I want to kill my heart, and bring you down too.
Six feet into the ground; your warm lips turned to blue
Over and over and over.
Stop! Shut up!
Get out of my head!
Are you laughing at me?
Are you even laughing,
Or are you just a voice,
Just a soundtrack?
Over and over.
Driving me crazy.
What am I now?
Will this ever end?
A thousand times goodbye
Fall asleep, fall asleep
A thousand whispers from the sky
Return, return to the stars
Endless inspiration from above
Like the moon, born anew
Singing a song of love
A thousand times hello
Fall asleep, fall asleep
A thousand whispers from long ago
Dreams RealizedWith red tears I cry in vain
Trying to remove the regretful stain
But there is no one to hear my call
There is no one here to break my fall
It is here in Hell that I lie in pain
Soaked in my blood, soaked in the rain
Forever blocked by ancient walls
Walls forever denying my cause.
In agony I regret following the dreams
That ripped my short life from its seams
So remember and take a lesson from me
To dream is a trait of the weak.
The PainWhy do I love you
When don't love me?
Why can't I accept
And let you go free?
Why does it hurt so bad?
Why can't I stop?
Why do I dwell on you?
My mind won't let it drop.
I wish you could love me
I wish it all went right
I think about you too much
I hold on way too tight.
My dreams are filled with you
They never seem to let go
When you are around
I cannot let it show.
If you knew how much I love you
You would make me leave
I cannot face such pain
This is my reprieve.
Sonnet 2I saw your face today,
so I smiled and waved.
You looked down in dismay.
I can't believe how we both behaved.
My smile faded as I walked away,
you didn't give me a second glance.
I had nothing to say.
Should I have given you another chance?
I shouldn't be acting like this,
I am with someone new,
yet my thoughts still persist.
Do I still miss you?
As awful as we were to each other,
you will always be my first true lover.
Un roti de Cupidon"Patron.. je suis pas sûr que ça soit une si bonne idée..."
Un bruissement d'ailes presque froufroutant sur sa gauche le fit se retourner d'un bond, mais il ne put percevoir qu'un bref mouvement du coin de l'oeil. Ils étaient rapides, bien trop rapides. Jamais le vieux ne réussirait. De nouveau ce bruit soyeux, semblable à des ailes de tourterelles, mais bien plus proche. Dans son esprit il pouvait les voir, tournant au dessus de sa tête comme autant de vautours prêts à la curée.
Le bruit assourdi des détonations résonna et tout autour d'Emmanuel une pluie de plumes commença à virevolter tandis que cinq bruits sourds accompagnaient la chute d'autant de corps autour de lui.
"Ramasse les, petit. On a encore du boulot."
Avec une grimace mi admirative, mi dégoûtée, le jeune homme se mit au travail, enfilant des lourds gants de cuir pour se protéger. Son sup
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More