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In what way are we normal. What constitutes to norm. What points us out as different When we opt not to conform. Is it simply that we're human, Each of us our own. What makes another person better.
Even though I was gone a moment, I missed your warm embrace, An amazing, sparkling creative tool, Which is known as a writers place, See, my lifestyle says "no", To letting creative juices flow, And...
All I see is anger Writhing in my head Burning, churning Hot, bright red You wanted Poetry. Come along You may just see I'll show you Everything I've got Will you take it. Maybe not.
My hair is changed, Once again, Keeping one colour's Such a pain... It's still blonde, But stripes along The bottom and They're nice and long.
Because I write so much, Opuss is my home. Everyday I'm on here, I live though not alone. All sorts of other creatures, roam this precious land. Under the colored sky, words spill from our hands.
Take hold of your pen set your imagination free Your mind has no limits be all that you can be.
Pictures stay In our minds. If they're ugly We leave them behind. We judge by faces And then the inside. So here you can't see me, But I don't want to hide.
In English class, we're learning poems and 'all about them'.
Haters hate. I sit and create. From writing to art. It all comes from the heart. Straight out of my mind. That's why you will find. Mistakes and imperfections. Under close inspections.
(Very quick very tired write) Punish the page Through the pen vent your rage Let it drip like blood from a knife Let it all out Let the pen scream and shout Let the ink be what saves you...
#nightdwellers The full moon beckons me to bathe in it's soothing glow. Upon my naked skin I can feel the night as it gently blows. Chinese whispers are carried exploding on the breeze.
When I form an opinion it's based on knowledge. But other people's views I will gladly acknowledge. But don't be controversial for controversies sake.
Writing because I have no voice. Fighting my battles with my weapon of choice. Using my words but not using my mouth. I'm louder I find, with my words WRITTEN out.
M usic, a huge part of my life. U niversal language for all. S ounds that help, calm or ignite. I t's magic never fails to pull. C omfort from pain, always something to gain.
#acrostic. Writing poetry,. Really is my therapy,. It helps me resolve,. Terror if truth be told,. I love to play with my imagination,. Not only does this relieve life's frustration, but it,.
A young tongue tied in my mind there's a clouded vision Every image dreamt is meant as my own decision To use words as my own form of mental arithmetician Deliver this bliss as my minds set on...
Take a Blank Page, Open up your Mind, Grab your favourite Pen, See what your imagination finds, Close your eyes And imagine, There is no wrong Or right, Your writing can Be light or shade, It can be...
Dear Opuss, I love That you're all about writing No pushs and no shoves.
My love for words just grow and grow The words I write just flow and flow I write for my very own pleasure Written with a mind full of treasure A voice speaks within my head I write them down as...
The Words Fall Onto The Page Muddled In my brain Muddled In my brain But They Drop Onto Paper, Scratching Into Wood, Carving Onto Stone.
Give me a cup of tea. A tablespoon of honey. Put in the music way too loud. I'd say sorry, but in too proud. Read and read to take me away, Write because I have words to say.
Jotting down a couple words. To get me through the day. All of this inside my head. That no one hears me say. And now I've finally found a way. To let them understand. The only way to get it out.
This App is really inspiring it makes me feel like I can get involved with creation.
I was told "you talk too much" When I was younger, aged 8. But all I had talked about was The things that interested me. How the stars in our dark skies Are just gigantic balls of gas.