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Innocent love, you and I, impossible, and yet we tried. Our time it spanned one, just like this, A year, for us to laugh and kiss.
You say you love rain, yet you use an umbrella. You say you love sun, yet you seek shade when it's out. You say say you love wind, yet you want shelter when it roars.
Wrote this for a friend of mine. He lost his mum to breast cancer when he was young. I wrote it as if his dad was telling him about his mum. He liked it anyway. Hope you do too.
Hey everyone, If you're a writer, visit @morganhuw 's place :) if ur a poet, or like music (whether u sing, play an instrument or just know a lot of songs) here's the place for u this month.
How do I let you know. How can I make you see. Which words would say best, What you mean to me. Will they ever make sense. Where is my courage to say them.
Your lips, your eyes, your soul Are like a work of art, The most creative thing of all Is your beautiful heart.
Please wake me when I'm free. I cannot bear captivity. where my culture I'm told holds no significance. I'll wither and die in ignorance. But my inner eye can c a race.
[final song in a trilogy: The Cradle, The Palace, The Grave. All three have taken me the last four years to complete and can now be found on Opuss.
I am writing this poem for all those who feel that life has reached its final curtain... @pjyenn this is for you...
Music like the night, Envelopes all but the most starry of Mights. Filled with hope - at Distant Dreams - I long to Chant - the Song to Midnight-Moons. Oh.
I can't keep secrets. I prefer to let them loose... Then walk away with haste. Leaving behind a bitter taste. Selfish, I know... But oh, does it feel good.
Beautiful. Of course you're beautiful. Of course you're so utterly brilliant and amazing. Because you And me And them...
~ It's 4am and I'm still avoiding sleep, so I wrote this poem.
Moonlight reflects, My greatest respects, This distant place, Gives me such a distaste, Sparks shower, This is the glass hour.
Why are your fingers so smelly, Wasn't your bath in time ready. Or your soap just felt down, Maybe no shops open in town. Oh why, oh why, Smellyfingers, Typing poems with smelly fingers.
Blood is red, The veins are blue, The cuts and scars they bleed all through The blade in my hand agaist my skin, The more i cut the less i feel sin.
Dear Inamorata, I am tranquil in your quivering eyes, So modest and pure, As freshly fallen snow Upon weary, trembling ground. Innocence in the warmth of your heart.
On the other side of darkness, shines the light,. Just shine it's beam into my darkest night,. Far too long in the dark I've sat in fright,. So light me up with the light tonight,.
Authors note: This is to my best mate and for every single thing she's done for me, you know who you are!.
Let them come, Let them see, What we've created; You and me. Let them shout, Let them hate, Words of love, Joy and fate. Let them scorn, Let them burn, Khama will call, Each in turn.
Good Morning. A very happy May to you, I hope it finds you well. I decided to plan a little better than the cobbled together affair than was yesterday's foray on Opuss.
Time stood still when you left us, though mornings turned to night. Day broke through the darkness, but some would remain inside us, we're all to human, our hubris marks us.
[For my wonderful Nan, who can no longer be with me in person, but who is always here in my heart.] I made for you a garden Where lilac roses bloom And in a peaceful corner I built a bench for two I...
There is a cat, That likes to read: A curious statement I concede; But sure enough, Each day and night, It reads and reads To our delight.