Learn Between the Lines Scholarship Slam
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What do you see when looking at me from afar?
Staring at me with those stones in your eye sockets.
The lava pours over the top and out my ears.
Take the fluff from my head. It grows
scratchy, scruffy—twists itself into wire..
barbed wire. Why do we
I
try to coil
this stuff—fluff
now sharp
around our paper souls?
Dear Poetry,
Do you see?
There she goes
that innocent girl,
a rule follower and honest to a fault,
I burned.
I fell into a pit.
It was dark and empty and suffocating
And I was alone.
I wanted to scream
But I couldn't,
Because if I screamed
It would wake everyone up
poetry, poetry, poetry
beyond my wildest dreams
there you stand
gracefully
when I am drowning in a sea of pain
you save me
while I sing my sufferings
you find ears to listen
Individualized with status and personality,
People are nonetheless the same.
Religious beliefs, race, and anatomy—
All flow in a similar vein.
Sorrow, sad, excited, estatic
They can describe the moods of poems.
The power of poetry from
Shakespeare to Sexton to Stern.
Their power of poetry have led me to feelwhile reading.
Once I read a poem
So boring and old.
It consisted of rhymes
And a lesson untold.
I analyzed the poem,
scrutinizing it with my eyes.
Yet the true meaning remained hidden,
never to abide.
At night I don't cry
I lie in the midst of my thoughts
Thoughts that fail to catch up with me in daylight
How much longer till the next day
I toss and turn till I end up with pen in hand
Poetry
Gives me a chance to say
The things my voice can’t manage,
And it has taught me
That sometimes you say more
By not saying anything at all
Or just by saying less.
You can find more meaning
what is change?
how can you change?
when changing, comes learning comes?
what is change, if you learn the power of words.
what is change, what can you do just by say.
Words spring from the page
I am encapsulated in a boundless realm
Reality dissociates into the inevitable end
I am delivered into the arms of comfort
The appealing illusion of vitality appears
There is a great din in this world
Bellowing and clanging, crashing and banging,
It consumes all voices
Too timid to shout above the clamor.
I was one such timid voice -
I feared make a sound
Oh, how your words hit like a leaf. Gentle and fresh, but sharp and calm. Touched by the hands of God, you see everything. Peaceful, watchful, mindful. Mind FULL of pain and sorrow. Worries draining hopeful emotions and a fear of tomorrow.
Poetry is an insight to the soulPowerful images built with wordsEmotions drawn from rhymeThere is a world in poetryA story to be heard and cherishedLike a book condensed to linesSimple phrases, hidden meanings Look at a person like a poemAnalyse,
It's been a little over a year,
Typing on this keyboard,
With lingering thoughts that bare,
Wondering why I kept silent,
For all this time,
When poetry etches the deepest fragments,
The way I work everything out;
from how I work words with my mouth,
to the way I decide to go out,
to whether I whisper or shout,
is all just a matter of choice.
I've never been too close to the edge of my universe
I've only gotten to close to the edge of the beach that
Flat-Earthists would tell me I'd fall off
I've seen stars up close
I'm a fan of Eminem.
From 'Without Me' to 'Walk on Water',
from his voice to his rhymes,
and from Slim Shady to Marshall Mathers.
A poem is like a pair of glasses
Lenses I can flip down
Rose tinted, perhaps, but
With them on, I can see flecks of gold among the dirt
What if,
all I have
is what you give me
each soft strand of grease
already fraying before you can cut them off
the color of too tired almonds
that you'll never notice
My life
My heart
My story
Broken sidewalks
Abandoned buildings
Shattered glass
Broken minds
Abandoned children
Shattered hearts
My life
My heart
I walk the face of earth once more,a mindless puppet, my strings are torn.The creaky bones, the bad eyesight,yet the chance to turn wrong to right.Wars-a-waging, old man’s guilt,
I hear voices singing differently
Through written words
Whether penciled on a page
Or formed through the rapid dancing of fingers
On a yielding keyboard
Words that are composed within the mind
Poetry.
A one way ticket to express your brain.
Poetry.
Where else can it set you free.
Poetry.
It has been my escape.
Poetry.
Taught me to how to believe.
A girl sits,
head buried in hands,
eyes burning with unshed tears,
troubled spirit tearing at her innards.
Images swim before her,
memories of agonizing days gone by -
her mother's furious face,
Through the heartbreak and tears
writing is what made all my problems disappear
freeing the thoughts trapped inside my head
lost feelings written down on my paper
words I embed
Speaking a whole new language
Desperately telling stories
Creating your own flow, and
I almost forget
That this is my passion.
A nation of letters
Giving you a deep feeling
Inside.
I don’t like talking
About the things that hurt me.
I am much too weak.
I’m always quiet.
Too afraid to even breathe,
Poerty taught me it's OK to FeelPoetry taught me if you can't say it, write itPoetry taught me Feeling and Thinking are OKBut I hate that sometimes,because no one's gonna read it anyways
Between these lines,
Are truth and lies,
Love and heartbreak,
Worlds that are stake
Hidden words unexplainable,
Where hopeful days are unattainable,
They are fighting words
To write words on a page
with a single stroke of a pen
is similar to an artist,
who paints on their canvas
carefully with a mere paintbrush.
To simply rhyme in each line
Be brave little angel it'll be okay,
Close your eyes tomorrow is another day.
Spread your wings take flight,
Together we'll win this fight.
Put down the razor put down the knife,
What has poetry taught me?
Poems words are used to inspire
People to believe
People to dream
People to succeed
Poetry shows the beauty
Of the world around us
Seen and unseen
Poetry is not just words put together.
What I see is an experience
Told with feeling and emotion.
Through a window of words
I learn of their struggle, their dreams, their life.
To live is to learn.
Society has many expectations
Leaving in me lasting implications
How I always failed in propriety
So I have yet to scape anxiety
I have never been in the norm
Once upon a time there lived a girl.
She hid away in her tower.
You see she’s not a princess,
there’s not a prince who comes and saves her.
