Learn more about other poetry terms
I just know exactly what it feels to hold guilt. Right when I turn to you eyes hurten, throat grasping for air. How dare you betrayed me no substance I'm my own excuse for my abscence.
You walk in, steaming water running down your sides, Like a different world, you stand there just thinking, It's been a rough day, one worth reflecting on,
I’ve always had grandiose ideas of what my life should be. How I would create the perfect love story. Embody the image of beauty and sensuality. Provoke thoughts and ideas that would start movements.
My words, Made to be heard, Cannot be overlooked. Poetry puts them in a style. My words!
Thoughts bleeding in my head. Idea's screaming, in my mind. A single pen, in my hand. The only paper, I could find. Unused ink, written words unsaid. Inspiration,
Words Brings life to ideas newborns who await to be seen by the world. People destroy words that come from precious gems. Never to be spoken Never to be written Never to be thought of
Pour the knowledge into my brain, For what a pity it would be For me to learn in turn for me, So pour it in, I'll spray it out, and so on until I'm insane. I can regurgitate ideas!
Back then, first gen, It was a lot easier when Mom and dad used to love each other since then Fights happen, physical actions Again and again
Ideas in her mind just hit her. They pop up as they please. She can't force them to appear, but when they do, they leave her in a stir. It's like getting stuck on a train,
Take it easy Your mind is thin paper held up to the sun Through it shines colors the eye can’t even see, But you’re quick to burn too fast... Be mindful & burn slow...
Many see life as birth, existence, and death. This, quite frankly, is the reality for an appreciable percentage of people. The reality is that people live on through their ideas. A mark, a symbol of themselves and their work.
i didn't start this year at a park late at night, shouting rebellion and revolution, not this time. no, i started this year in an illegal 2002 honda civic without brakes, skidding through red lights & stop signs in downtown portland.
Often, I find myself beset by blues, Often, I see such lunacy. Often, I find myself seeing interviews, Often, I see people as crazy. Often, I find myself depressed by the news, Often, I see insanity.
First time I meet you You meet me And we become friends, With no vested interest , We never knew each other before.
You’ve always told me that you get your best ideas driving alone when your weary body slips into your hypnotic state when your eyes become the headlights that light the way
There's a foreboding bought of restlessness rustling in my belly I can feel it taking hold of all my fingers and pulsing in my breast Imagine there's no heaven It's easy if you try
There are places that can never be trasversed There are ideas that can never be spoken There are emotions that can never be expressed directly. But every moment is a passing,
Slight ting from crisping golden beams, The mellow sway of palms rustles There leaves chirping Intrinsic in the forgotten hustle The sounds left beyond the tides. The oscillating sound
Undeniably, the body cannot live without the mind It is like planning to seek a treasure one must find The strength to act in order to survive but without spirit, all actions, contrive
Sometimes you pray to god things work out. Sometimes you wish upon a star.
My pen falls short, lacking in gage Needingly etching and sketching away at the page My heart fulfilled in paper and ink Never speaking, only writing what I think Power in words, thought and ideas
When we are young, We learn to form our own ideas. Ideas that fill our minds Like stars fill the night sky And emotions fill the hearts of lovers.
Me, myself anda piece of paperdecided to take onthe world.And so I wrote upon itsent it forthlet it fly freeout my window.I heard talk of it a year later
I am a Human Being.
Let your mind Bloom like a flower In spring. May your thoughts Grow fertile In soil of encouragement. Create a field of plenty Waiting to be harvest
He Stood Tall Forever growing Tall as a mountain Larger than a Building He's an Idea that is always growing
Indeed imagination is inundated inside interminable ideas, Pouring purposes, poetry-pondering pages pertaining panegyric phrases, Entrapped, effortlessly entombed - ears eternally earning effrontery.
You tell me I'm unique and they say I'm a freak. Excuse me, sir; but who gave any of you permission to speak?
I made an idea, a synapse in my head. It was concieved the moment I rose from my bed. Locked up inside, a prisoner of my brain. That thought gave me nothing but pain As it was meant to be free, like a canary
Standing before you, An endangered soul. Mold with gold and once embodying the whole given. And now My Frail and lanky stature, stands before you piercing every eye.
Every time I find myself searching for inspiration or feeling like my ideas are not suffice I look around me, I look at all the things that have been invented throughout the years and begin
Tell me how I was exactly like him Tell me how I am not original Tell me someone has already done that Everythought has already been thought Every word has already been wrote
Through sufferance let your body yearn for commitment to abolish any obstacles that may have bolted your doors to succ
My sanity hangs in the balance as I write. I fill the page with a world born of darkness and light. Of a universe centered at the very tips of my fingers. It flows from my mind in smooth streams of conciousness
like the flower, so blooms inspiration. roses only grow from fertile clay... thoughts, from a fecund imagination. insights spring from fruitful contemplation while new buds grow with the sun's warm rays.
Let me describe them to you They are sticky sweet like mango juice And tangy tart like my favorite pineapple They drip sugary goodness all over my lips and fingers Like when you bite into a summertime watermelon
A deep breath, inhale..exhale, a deeper thought follows.
between the lines across my forehead
Around it we feel like we are part of something greater. Around it we proclaim our ideas and express them for the world to judge if they are good enough,
My room has always been a bit of a joke between my friends and family.
Have you chosen to speak to a man with a crown on his head but rags on his feet?an optimistic mind so devine, however benign,for ideas are mere conceptuality,far from reality.
I was once something that carried a message with ideas, emotions, and a purpose, made from thoughts. For only a short time do I exist to serve my purpose,
My eyes scan over Foreign pages A Sage’s work My heart beats My fingers tremble I want Mine also complete So stare at a blank screen And will my imagination to turn
Creative juices flow... Like a gentle stream that comes to an island and must choose if the waters flow: left or right
Is Fear the feeling that you get when you can’t stand on your own two feet when challenges comes your way? Is Fear darkness that surround your world and make your eyes can’t see the light?
This slave-like mentality, quite simply the reality of our warlike principalities whose brazen nationality is worn thinly by brutality fledged from personalities
I see demons on the ceilings- They crawl down the steps and up the pew to preach- I see sheep in the pasture- and if he tells them to jump they will fly from the rock and kiss the ocean-
Nautical graves and practical poets, Woman's condition and cultural woe. Heaving sensations accompany the telly. What's worse than these? The end of the show.
I like every poem. At least, I've never met a poem I didn't like. It's not that every poem resonates with me or that I enjoy every poem; it's just that saying, "I DON'T LIKE YOUR POEM"
At certain times The human brain allows us to believe falsified things
I hold on to pain From which nothing is gained Remembering times When I was trampled down Down into the ground Beneath the soil where the bugs lay Instead of rot, I sought reality
You said it, therefore it must be true. Yes, every word you speak is law. Why should anyone have room to doubt you? You, who beleives everything the bias media tells you.
Today we can live Yesterday we've survived Tomorrow will never cry The days of our lives We can do whatever. Till one of us die Then we all Cry
What is comparable to inevitable?? If the lyrics don't intertwine, then the meaning is forgotten. How do we proceed to the next level when we keep falling? The stairs are right before us but the world is calling,..
Thoughts are feelings in your mind, conjured by emotions and reactions you feel inside. No wait. Thoughts are voices in your head that you keep from having a sound from your mouth No wait