erin’s note - A lyrical poem that resonates with me. I connected with the sentiment of this.
Been on this road for??? Cant really say, long time searchin’, been lost my way, its like my lucky chance left before it came, white heaven robe, done turned stained, innocent love turned to troubled pain, looked for helping hands but aint’ nuttin’ gained, just the cold shoulder from the ordained, no rainbows after the shower just more rain….all along thought I lived it well, my white dove straight turned to a Jezebel, my blessings shriveled while my enemies seemed to swell… the way this is I know some others rather dwell in hell, but its only a cold spell, they don’t ask and I don’t tell and warm love done turned cold, in the night they slid through and stole my body and soul like damn………
erin’s note - I connected with this - honest, true, thoughtful piece.
I watch the clock tick its way to midnight
and decide I’ve officially stayed up
I like the way my handwriting changes
when I’ve stayed up too late.
I like the way it feels like
the walls of this house might break down.
I like the sound of people breathing.
I like believing
that someone on the other side of the world
is making coffee for the girl of his dreams.
I like the feeling of being in love,
I like how I can feel it without being in love
I like that someone is writing poetry right now.
I like that people can lay on the ground
then get up.
I like that I got up.
I like that I can write poetry
into breaths of kids
who don’t feel like breathing
until they taste their own breath.
I like that I don’t need to forget
to move on,
I like that I can move on
without running away.
I like that there are days I haven’t lived yet
I like that there are hearts
that haven’t beaten yet
I like the kids that decide to expect
something out of life.
I like the light
in their eyes.
I like the light
no matter how dark you think is right.
I like the poetry that sits on my lips,
on the very tips
of my fingers.
I like the first draft of love letters
in the cracks
of my skin.
there is imperfection
we all have ugly sides
and blood shot eyes
and white lies
that are touch too dark for comfort.
We all have our own shade of hurt
hidden behind our sleeves,
but there is beauty there too.
There is beauty in you.
There is beauty in me.
If it takes a thousand midnights for you to see it,
I will never
Sugar and spice and everything nice,
and lust, and pain,
and bitter refrains,
and love unrequited,
or returned, then lost,
or felt too deeply
no matter the cost,
and beauty so pure
as to make us weep,
and the type of darkness
that won’t foster sleep,
and hope and despair,
and obsessive need,
and everything else
our pens might bleed.
That’s what poetry’s made of.
In poetry, we can work magic - everyday ordinary struggles are extraordinary and epic. Even ugly, painful tings that we deal with have meaning and then, become beautiful and bearable.
Life presents a question,
most times one.
The answer to this question,
most times this, is —
Go to bed.
Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved.
she reserves herself, he goes all out.
she introspects, thinks too much.
he expresses, a natural extrovert.
her strength is quietness and confidence
he is all heart.
such a fit, him and her.
skin tan with passion’s rays,
she stands on the rock of lust.
she lures her lovers to her
with many seductive moves.
half-clothed in desire,
she is bate,
he swallows whole.
There is a melancholy tenderness in my breast that is choking me.
I feel like I’m held together by pieces of gossamer thread; strong in its entirety, but it will only take one of the tiny, delicate strands to fray and break, and the whole thing will unravel and I will explode out… leaving a mess of blood and bones and girl all over the ground.
Too much emotion,
too little you to calm it.
Can you soothe me now?