random poem of fate

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LET ME JUST TELL IT...IT'S ALL UP TO YOU ENTRY (SCHOLARSHIP SLAM)

Location

64127
United States
39° 5' 31.0308" N, 94° 32' 49.0956" W
See map: Google Maps

Let me be real with you, honey it's all up to you.
The movement of the earth, spinning, shifting, lifting. Reeling fiercely below the cool hallow ground.
The beat of the rhythmic pattern of electronic zooming sounds, shaking the atomsphere as the planes cut through the barrier.
The swallow of the sun, as the clouds pass, in tears of fear that the storm will last a second longer. That the storm will only get stronger. See, sweety, it's all up to you...to save us all. To save us all. So what are you going to do?

Comments

I remember...

Location

I remember thinking that you are as consistant as the sea,

sounded lovely and made sense.

But you see, the ocean is far from consistant.

One day he will gently kiss the shoreline and the next he could crash down and ply right through her;

destroy and suffocate her.

An ocean is not consistent, and I came to realize,

neither are you.

Comments

We The People

Dear Constituion,

 

I love who I am.

I have no interest in changing

Just to “get with the program”

For approval of the white man

When the power is in my hands

I have Nubian royalty in my veins

They couldn’t trap our brains

Even though they held us, shackled  

In fetters and in chains.

My fury and rage has the potential

to swoop you up in my knowledge hurricane

 

We hold these truths to be self-evident

 

Only for the caucasian residents

They forgot about the racism and prejudice

And that the rules were only for their benefit

 

That all men are created equal

 

But didn’t you make our rights illegal?

Associated us all with all evil?

You abolished slavery, but burned crosses

On our lawn in the sequel.

 

That they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights

 

Unalienable: “cannot be taken or denied”, day or night

So why did we have to pass a bill for civil rights?

Since when did African American become a fraction

Shouldn’t my whole identity be a birthright?

 

That among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness

 

The lies you serve are poison, gaseous

I crave my OWN liberty and life, call me ravenous

The rules of this game don’t seem advantageous

I don’t understand

How can more melanin make me more susceptible to crime

If I want the same things as you, why do I have to work overtime?

They say it’s a waste of time, but it’s prime time

I’m gonna fight back in the meantime and

Make the best out of this lifetime.

 Sincerely,Zahrah A. Siddiq 

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

A Few Reasons Why

Thu, 08/15/2013 - 00:56 -- ShilohA

Writing is in the blood

It is a fire that never dims in velocity

A light that ever glows in ferocity

An ever ebbing and flowing flood

A rose bud

A curiosity

An ever-true veracity

It is as a carving made of mud

 

Ever-changing

It is called the writer’s bug

Maybe I should get a mug

Never-ending

An interesting phenomenon, it is like a friendly hug

One that makes sure you are snug

Expressing

 

Writing is a love

A passion

And a compassion

A messenger dove

Writing fits one like a glove

Writing after a fashion

Can be rather ashen

But then again, love is a dove and a dove is ashen, thus writing is a love

 

To express emotion

A writer must

Find something just

This is a notion

But not a magic potion

A poem can be a bit of angel dust

Or perhaps it is a bit of gold dust

Writing is something of an ocean

 

I write because my blood burns

It burns with the great emotions of life

Strife

I yearn

With this I earn

A brief moment of sharing life

The repairing of the wounds of life’s emotional knife

I write to learn

 

What else can I say?

Writing is my way of expressing love, agony, sorrow, pain, anger, all the emotions, life’s jewels

A poem is an embroidered piece of tulle

Or it is a bouquet

But no matter how far I stray

No matter the meeting of many ghouls

In the art of the heart, I will continue to school

The art of the heart, of course, being that of poetry’s way.

Comments

Tennis

 

Tennis is super fun to me .

It’s like a passion of mine that I love.

This is my first year playing and I love it.

There are many things to love about it like

Having fun practice  and actually enjoying it;

Working hard on my forehand and backhand;

Feeling the vibration of the ball hitting my racquet;

The shoes, shorts, tank top, t-shirts, and more outfits;

Finally getting the ball over the net and inbounds too;

Getting your serve over the net and feeling great;

Feeling good to win a set and to win a match;

Having my coach to and talk to me and make

Me feel awesome for getting a win and .

Making new, Fun friends on the team;

Practice making me a lot better;

Parents positively cheer me on;

Good food after matches;

Yummy Yummy;

Tennis;

This

Is

What

You

Mean

To

Me.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Ode to New Beginnings

Location

Embrace the new beginning,

being a first generation college student is going to war with no training

It is exciting yet sad

not many to guide you through, you're the first !

arrival at the university made me feel as though I was a clear glass

Who do I turn to ? Where do I start?

Worrying would be like a sensitive tooth, trying to get that cold bite...I'm scared

Everything is as clear as a dirty mirror, but I have to become comfortable 

with being uncomfortable- someone has to be the first, so I guess it'll be me

Besides, I have younger siblings looking up to me

I shall inhale, exhale, and embrace this new beginning !

Comments

Silence

While suffering from depression

my mind is eiher constantly moving or completely blank,

but when I see you my mind is at peace.

There's always so many things I want to say

or do

but when I am with you I forget it all

I just want to look at you breathtaking beauty

all day. All of my questions slip from my mind and

all I think of is my undying love for you and my need to express it

but still nothing can come out. It's so hard to control now.

I want to jump into your arms and kiss all over your face. But instead

I stay quiet in my shell like always, quite but still

vunerable. If only you could

show at least a little affection-maybe

even an exchange of an endearing look-

I could open back up to you.

Just help me find the words

to explain this feeling. Instead

I just look at you in this odd yet comfortable

silence.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

The Birth of the Son of Jupiter

(My inspiration was the NASA photos recently released of the planet Jupiter.

They inspired me to write this poem; they remind that there is beauty in living.)

 

In fact, I was born

Out of the very lungs of Jupiter

Exhaling tidal waves of fog and blue,

Swimming in thunderstorms

As the lightning cracked in my eyes

And my mouth opened,

Outpouring a million poems 

And thoughts of death-

I was born out of the very lungs of Jupiter;

I recollected my woes 

Recounted my many broken hearts

That slipped past me in the pools 

Of my own golden blood

And I touched the stars 

And made love to them 

With malicious flirtation

And effortless conversation;

I swallowed whole the oceans of Jupiter

Letting them run like honey down my throat

Because living was enough for me.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

I have a poem on my lips

I have a poem on my lips,

That mouths the wonder of his eyes,

and it waits to erupt at any moment.

I have a poem on my lips,

I wear it like the feel of his touch,

the sound of his voice,

the beat of his heart,

the constant breathing motion of his chest.

I have a poem on my lips

that mouths the story of us,

of love,

of loss,

the contours of our bodies melted under the heat of the sun.

I have a poem on my lips

that spills laughter onto his back,

thunder into his heart,

ripples of secrets into his mind,

electricity into his soul.

I have a poem on my lips

that stammers about things like fate,

and how I’d like to carry his heart forever.

Comments

Why I Write

Location

Bronx
3210 Colden Avenue
United States
40° 52' 18.354" N, 73° 51' 32.868" W
See map: Google Maps

I never knew that I was in so much pain 

Until I started scribbling on a paper made

of love

With a pen made of tears and

ink made of blood.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments