Learn more about other poetry terms
Ya Know I've Heard It Said By Older Heads... COMPETITION Is Part of Human STRENGTH... !!!
This poem is for every talented poet You meditate and visualise day and night And you work so hard on your poetry I’ve never met any of you in person, But your poems tell something about you
MAN What Is It With ARTISTS... ?!? When It Comes To The Markets... Where They... Wanna Be SEEN... !!! SEEING Money... And Their ARTISTRY... REACH The Peeps' Who They're TRYING To Reach...
In a quagmire of misery the girl wallows. Her feminism a bitter pill to swallow. It’s a man’s world, so a man’s code she should follow, Is a lie they tell her and if only the society would allow,
Every morning he wakes up and sighs, To God he constantly prays. He hopes that today is the day he won’t lament, Because finally someone will notice his talent As he shares his beautiful voice with the world
Stare at this paper writing yeah life is complete Bullshit that is,music is my only retreat Demons haunting me I could never hope to defeat
5 fantasies fuel my fascination 4 familiar fears fixated on my faults 3 thoughts that thirst for thrills 2 talents taking time to transform into 1 soul that is mine to claim
Swish, the white and blue-lined silky fabric tingles my nylons Big, bright lights glare into my eyes, but my smile stays put until the corners of my mouth ache.
Flawless My words are flawless. My mind is far from perfect And my spelling is atrocious I studder and i stumble, But my words. My words have never failed me.
Weak, Worthless, Insignificant, Useless, Unwanted, Dejected. That is what I felt inside, looking at me from the outside. Some say I’m weak because I don’t do what everybody does,
Inspired to do my best by those you wouldn't expect. High expectations given to me by those who don't provide my basic needs. I wonder how life would be if I didn't believe in grinding.
Gravity can pull me down all he wants, but that will not stop me from reaching the sky. The stars are mine to own, and the universe is my playground. Earth is a test,
You are ugly. A disgrace. Why even bother showing your face? you appalling creature, with misshapened features. just a scrap, meaningless perhaps? however.
POOF! Now I am confident! SNAP! Now I am beautiful! BOOM! Now I am talented! Here I stand, So hear my demands! My confidence has surly convinced you!
What's the reason for all this madness All these pensive thoughts And there's no reason for this sadness I feel as if the world is turning in my thoughts and my brain is the axis
I want to tell you a story
I feel the warm lights on my skin I hear the voices of impatient souls I see the opposing character to my side And I can just taste this sweet tasting goal Every since I was a little girl
I looked into my soul and seen that I had been missing for a year. I found myself hurt and full of fear. This talent that I had for so long just thrown away. I started than stopped I couldn't persuade..
When I reach for the pen and paper, and begin to write/ Do I write about what’s right or mainstream it to tight/ One brings fame while the other brings respect/ I guess the only way to impress is to show intellect/
What would I change Is that a question or just a possiblity of what is to come Some things just can't be changed So let what's meant to happen become Well wishers and doubters
Scoundrels gifted, Christians jilted; Wagner delirious, Salieri envious: Talent.
She sings. The strings, play like a charm. Tuned so warm, to touch my heart. This is the start. My lady, My ukulele.
When I was seventeen in early January of my junior year in high school I picked up a pencil and drew something out of boredom a doodle of a girl with a bandana in her hair smiling at the sky
I think I found my talent. Yet, not sure if I really found it, Oh well, Time to take some chances. I will dance like no one's watching, Sing as if I don't care,
I write because The connection from my brain to my hand is Stronger than the one from my brain to my mouth. And when my hand moves across the blank page It pours passion right out of the pen.
What am I gonna do when you’re gone? Because you couldn’t let anybody in to hear the cries of your sad song. So tell me what am I gonna do when you’re gone?
I write to be free, To see another fate beyond the trees, Scratching on the door of closer, When I can be me and let imagination take over. Typing on a steady rhythm of a key, As steady and mellow of the sea,
We the invisible While unforgettable it is easy to forget we are there The misfits the world never bothered what to do with Forgetting our existence while counting us statistics Misplaced we traverse unknown plains
Maybe He needs to stop. Maybe He needs to forget that he's not always the only person on top Maybe he needs to hold off of these shots cuz he knows it wouldn't hit the spot Maybe he should give himself some little props
Like a repetitive note hidden in a melody Giving significance to the sky in its remedy Not hearing the flow from a space through a crack Unless the vibrancy is constant in its subliminal act
Tired of sitting in the dark, a silent chord, a forgotten voice lost in the abyss of my world. I want to create and never fade away. I want to see a light in my chest, purpose in my step and a grin on my face.
People in life sometimes need a shine. You don't have to a star nor even a dime. As kid you grow, and find whats inside. Go on little kids, show how you can shine. Show the world and life that theres nothing to hide.
The lights are on and everyone's staring expecting a performance. I open my mouth and I forget all the lyrics. I think I'm going to mess up and they're all going to laugh, but then I sing and my doubts are in the past. Is this real?
He never saw the point All he ever wanted was to kick, push, And coast at a skating joint Never did he saw the purpose of the tune Thought the black and white is simply doom
All the talent in the world won’t save you if you are ugly! You try to have confidence But the moment you stand, you are beaten! You aren’t loved! You aren’t worthy!