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Is it a crime to not have the time to rhyme. To not have the capacity for tenacity. The fortitude for a bit of attitude.
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Is it a crime to not have the time to rhyme. To not have the capacity for tenacity. The fortitude for a bit of attitude.
Beyond the sea and far away. A small fantastic land. Idyllic, peaceful, beautiful. For those with words at hand. It's name is Opussia. And it's a secret world you see. Words are the admission price.
I wish I could Tell you how much I love you I wish I could Tell you how much I need you How much my heart brakes At every stepping stone I take And I know you can't be there I wish I remembered more...
Opuss calls to me, its charming little mew, It makes me start to wonder, does Opus call to you.
Tyger. Tyger. Burning bright, In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry. In what distant deeps or skies, Burnt in the fire of thine eyes.
Far be it for an Underling to Council Ladies Kaiser, Kings Every man should Remain a Servant to the game But perhaps A change is due Starting with Two fingered truth Any reason Royalty Deem...
My body's giving signs. That it might like to stop. That's a crying shame. Don't feel fit to drop. Starting to feel pain. A wasted life's excess. Try so hard to win. Without much success.
Words are my toys, that bend and do not break. Like an unbreakable sword, double edged, give or take.
She twinkles in the light. Drifts her glowing eyes across their faces. Silent now, quietness. She wonders 'will they notice?'. A question lost in her inaudible sigh. She stirs.
~ Sorry if this is a bit morbid. ~ I used to think I was a survivor, But now I think I was wrong, Now I think I'm trying for nothing When before I thought I was strong.
F orever in my heart. R emember the fun. I 'll never be apart. E nough sadness I'm done. N ow friendships begun. D ark days are passing. S ummer warmth comes. F ond memories lasting.
While my poem didnt mean to offend or upset. I cant help but feel some regret. It was indpired by a child so cute and pure. I thought the poem would win hearts for sure.
Imagination spills over Smiles turn to laughter Thoughts frozen in time Words fill the racing mind Archived memories replay Dust them off for today Yes I remember now You did indeed use a smile Once...
Dear white fella Couple things you should know When I born, I black When I grow up, I black When I go in sun, I black When I cold, I black When I scared, I black When I sick, I black And when...
Long walks on the beach, The smell of a bathroom cleaned in bleach, Drinking hot chocolate on cold winter nights, Decorating a Christmas tree in small fairy lights, The smell of the beach and the...
Embarrassed that you're black or white, Hate your colour that ain't right, Don't like people of a different kind, Ignorant, racist, deaf and blind.
Looking for inspiration, was a hard task for me. I was thinking as hard as thinking goes, to where he might be. I looked under my bed and inside my closet. Was he there?. Of course he wasn't.
It's been said life's eternal, that deaths only the horizon, I'm a wordstress vast and free, I know what I really want to be, I feel my souls an infinite space, transient mirror image in its...
A poem for Opuss Idiots. You sit and make comments with nothing nice to say. We dont care for your negativity So stay the hell away. We have better things to write & stuff to do.
This is the story of my battle with depression..my Black Dog. Ultimately, it is a story of Hope.
On the street such charming faces Mascarade, a hidden plea Covered up with airs and graces Rouge and kohl, origami.
Spin. Let blood skim The skin you’re in Call pulse to flush That lovely sash Of flesh. Run. Soles and souls With Earth imprint Free the path – Spring up and Sprint. Play.
There are books that make you laugh, And books that make you cry, Books in which to the characters, You're loathe to say goodbye.
Writer unknown:- He was a five year old indian boy bullied for his race. He won an award for this poem.