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You are what words can't describe Your beauty makes flowers Your voice makes music You a rock in my world, yet so soft like raindrop You a river that flow in essence and softness
Your sweet melodious voice, whenever strikes my ears With all the glamour, beautiful voice of yours Imprinted in love, uttered with fantasy Your mellifluous voice takes me to ecstasy
Orthopedic surgeon fled Vietnam at age fourteen Old Lady works full-time and rescues children in between My doctor doesn't know mother died from a complication of this surgery
Dear Josiah I'm sorry for what I did I thought I only had one choice, But it's my fault I didn't have a bigger voice. The times were fast and no one was there
When you look back in time, To see how things a-line, It’s funny to see it all connect. From history, with those victories,
Contemporary age and the superstitious world Everyone seems a myth with consciences hurled "Selene, Endymion" lie in every imagination Claustrophobic streets are the example of infatuation
Lurking in the shadows always listening to others. Having no voice nor opinion growing up.
I do not have a voice today. It's been slowly fading over three days, a horror, because my opinions are loud. It's been slowly fading-- that respect I know I deserve--
Teeth came in, screaming came out As a child finding my voice came with fees Every chance I got to fight I would shout My mother made me get down on my knees
Is voting the only time you’re able to truly validate your voice? I’ve heard about the police brutality, the shootings, food insecurity But turning 18 is not the only time you get to make a choice
I. The first day I realized freedom is not free without a cost, I was thirteen— when we read To Kill a Mockingbird and I could not help but think
i have spent most of my life in unconscious apathyoften rubbing at burning eyessleepily staring at fluorescent lightsin windoless classrooms that spark anxiety and agony
Why are we to be content with our role in this country? We gave you what you asked for. When will our government hear our plea?
Only when a lion is poked and prodded does it turn and roar. Only when a whisper is spat on and silenced does it turn into a scream. Only when a life is faced with death does it become meaningful.
A Weapon You Can't Ever Take by: Kaitlyn Whitner I own the most powerful weapon ever known to man Just like all other weapons It can be used for good or used for evil
I needed you like I needed a cigarette. Like tar to my lungs, you poisoned my life. I was only 17 and thought, "This is what love is"... It was more like drowning.
My body is a temple. You’re not invited in. You’ve left me empty and broken, all from within. My body is my home. My safe zone.
Sense September 7, 2018 ~ Friday Little lips Little bits of me, the tips Of where all words begin and end Little place to hide my insides
Finding your voice is not easy to do. It all starts with a problem you need to get through. After trying to deal with it all by yourself, You think, "maybe I should look outside myself."
Voice"Just sing," they say But they don't know how much I pray Each morning and twice every night For courage to share what's in my mind's lightVoice One word. Too hard
"Lucy, Lucy, No." She whispers to her hands. She cries to the company. We stare, curiously, judgementally.
My voice is my calling To helps those in need
I need to write, I need to fight for every breath I breathe Without poetry, Or symmetry, Creativity,
He gave me a voice When I was too afraid. He gave me a voice When I could not talk. He gave me a voice So I could be myself. He gave me a voice So I spoke.
Poetry allowed people to been seen and heard. With their voices they told stories. Some of those stories portrayed a variety of struggles that people faced. While others showed positive aspects of their lives.
Again and again and again and again. Every two steps forward is one step back People fight until they’re no longer standing, And no one stops to help them up.
I always felt that my Words, Thoughts, Feelings, Were choked by my brain. Chained by my heart. Jailed by my lips. Until I heard the reverberated echo caused by poetry. There was a hum
Remember the time your mother said, "Turn your tv off and go to bed"? Then in a split second, a sneaky idea is developed inside your head?
Poetry has taught me That even without conversation There are still ways To inspire ideas To express emotion To connect comrades Even without conversation One can always use their voice
Poetry has taught me that I have a voice. And that if I want to suffer in silence, that is my choice. It has taught me that everyone is like a walking puzzle piece. If we all speak up, we can be complete.
Like the stem of a sunflower Swaying gently in the breeze We push and pull To the rhythm of life we know Simply to grow
A crumpled piece of paper. The stature of things unsaid, Words unheard of. Time thrown away, Heart gone to waste. Talents unseen, Greatness unevident. Mind-filled works, Torn.
I’ve heard of guys like you my entire life The type to dumpster dive Instead of revive There were times I wished I’d died If I died, you would’ve taken everything Including my voice
Dear ETs, I’m sorry, I cannot find a way To bring myself to fully answer your question Regarding humanity’s ending passage of days;
We haven’t much to call our own. Not our eyes or our hair, or our X chromosome. Not our face or our fare, or the places we roam.
8 January 2018 Dear Voice,
To you, You know who you are, so dare I write your name? Dare I continue writing? I dare because that is what you taught me to do. “Dream on, dream big, never be subpar,”
Dear School Board, You threaten me with your words With your long sentences of gibberish and peanut butter
Invisibility comes with secrets Kept hidden away from publicity They cannot be exposed, because of bets That friends will see it with simplicity
To My Fellow Twenty-Somethings: Oftentimes, the millennial generation -- The generation of which we are at the tail-end -- Gets a bad rep.
Home is a sanctuary, a place of love and warmth. Where a child's height is marked year after year on the laundry room wall. At Christmas time, the smell of cookies and laughter
Pool Boy, You were just a boy, sixteen years young - (blank) neighbor. (Blank) demons derive from our paths crossing when (Blank) was 4. The day was hot, wearing nothing but the trainning bra and
You Saw her singing her song Up in the balcony Where the moonlight hit her profile. She sang about wishing she Were A princess Who could escape her tower...
The voice within Movement is power, but the voice is the ruler.What you desire is derived from the mind,a human's voice is the gateway to world domination.This five letter word has a greater power than a humantouch, look, smell.
Petite fish in the sea, little mermaid so lonely, wallows in watery ennui. Enough's enough and life is tough. little mermaid suck it up. devil says, here's my choice.
The sobbing mother cringes as her baby cries. She wishes they had warned her just how loud a deaf child’s screams could be.
Simply stunning stars on a block of blue fabric blown by the wind, shooting left and right like the bullets between our soldiers
Shallow glimpses,An idyllic panorama.Fields of Elysium, here on earth -As far as the eye can strain.As wide as the voice can throw.
I hear a voice ring loud and clear And I look around quite in fear That perchance it might be mine. What is this strange young thing I have found?
A year ago I didn’t have a voice It was robbed By the feeling of uncertainty It’s an easy feeling To feel trapped
Beautiful Intelligent Strong Virtues gained And stored in my Silent intensity -Laughter like a hyena leaving pink tongue unwillingly- She's forgetting How to speak softly
If the only thing to fear is fear itself I find it funny that I'm so scared to be Courageous. I am most scared when no one expects me to stand up.
If you can hear my voice, Speak up please, Quivering in the shadows, Frightened of presumptions and Prejudice, I shut my voice to hinder Judgment. I am silent for The sole reason
When you speak to me, breathe sweet words into my ear drums through
My mother was an English teacher. My mother is an english teacher. She was an english teacher because her overeducation
What's wrong? Nothing Everything How are you? Good, thank you. I'm numb, you? What ya doin? Writing
I sing about my pain without ever breathing a word The melody carried by the pen in my hand The paper holding my lyrics and heartache in a crisp white shell
I search around my head I look inside my heart To find those key words That make this sound More like art It’s the simple way You can frame A panaroma of feelings,
I have so many dreams in my life, it’s like no one knows who I am. There’s a mask over my face, and I’m as weak as a baby lamb. I write roaring, fragile words hoping that no one sees them.
Poetry is the sweet sap that seeps from within the trees, exposing their true nature of how delicate and potent it feels against my fingers, spiritually connecting with me. Poetry elicits a plethora of emotions
My Vigilant Saviour, Poetry. A young child of 10 discovered people never understood; when she spoke yet with her hands...her writing ,she communicated volumes.
This is what I have left, The last connection to who I used to be. I write to remember, I write to forget, I write to find where eternity meets the end. I write about hope, Long since lost
The sensation was like lying on the bottom of a pool Weightless yet heavy A blue blanket wrapping me in eerie silence.
I once was a girl who was completely brokenhearted from bullies, to boys, to a broken home. But with a pen and paper and a much needed quiet room there was relief. I could write how I felt,
I am an emotive voice expressed through pen and paper, but once was uncapable of being heard because six plus years of bully beat downs made fear seal every word.
Inability to communicate To Elaborate To Speak It is quite a terrible fate One which should not be cursed Even upon those that you hate Yet here I was Crying
Scoop out my insides and take from me what shouldn't be mine. Blinding pain, pounding guilt, drowning in sadness. It doesn't end. Forever doomed to question, wonder, dream, who, what would you be?
This is the story of how I lost my voice - But more importantly, how I found it again. How I found the words caught behind spiderwebs in my throat, itching to be free,
society teaches my son that gun play is better than word play. that being educated isn't okay they want me alive but not woke. I be damned to let them deprive me from my thoughts and Intuition.
Voices in the dark Madness, that defiant spark Words, Rhythm, Poetry, Rhyme Escape, Express The Truth is mine. My speech on paper, The world unkind, Speak out with thunder
I write to be free.
It makes me sad that no one will ever know how I sound to me. I think I sound better that way. But I will never be able to sound that way to others. I feel like my voice isn't me.
The streets are sinking from all our heavy footsteps Dragging down with it hope and soul Draining any prospects Of aim Of meaning
A bird with no song is one that cannot truly fly He may soar far above the others on strong, sturdy wings but his throat is raw with unspoken dreams that weigh him down.
Crying out for one of life's many inconsistent qualms which arise without fail. Screaming pleading for justice, joy, a sense of reason. Little whispers silenced pleas
A voice. Such a small thing inside. It can be whisper, Or a scream. It can be written And it can be seen. But I cannot live Without mine. It is the gift Each of us is born with.
StrandedBehind the miles of oceanSand piled up like hoursAnd dark just dark: Empty.Just water, andSand, andDark, and Me.And I needHow I needI need Air
If I was left on an island gone and forgotten what would I bring if I had the option? I'd bring my voice the only tool I need. While I rot away, it would keep me company.
She saw me once standing there, helping her mother out of the bus and she smiles at me with her crooked teeth. Her blonde hair waves to me in the frisky wind And her purple blouse screams to me diva in one direction
A world of hate and critisism. A world of judging eyes What more can we do but listen, As people speak their ignorant lies. I know I can't stay silent, Not when I can fight,
My world ended So why was it still spinning? Darkness crept in So why was there still light? How can the Earth still spin And a candle still burn When his heart's stopped beating?
The heat of my heart is a white-hot flame It bears my values, my views and my name Embers burn my tongue, refuse to be bound Smoke billows upwards, lost but not found
My own silence most terrifies me While freedom is my savior We must close our eyes Rise above the noise And speak louder than blockades I need my voice to say no I need my voice in highs and lows
Voice A powerful tool Made to encourage Not tear down Language Used to communicate Messages of love Not for evil humor When words are exchanged
Little Things They say that’s what it’s all about. Perhaps even the things you can’t live without. That little thing holds back all the little ticks in my head that are coming out, oh god
My voice is a fire. It holds the power to burn down every house in sight every building, every door, entire towns and in its path
The gentle strum of fingers on a guitar, Transporting the eager listener to lands of afar, The pianist’s gentle caress of the keys, Expressing melodies akin to the waves of seas,
I wanna know the music you listen to when you're sad It says a lot about you about how you handle situations when you feel lost when you feel lonely or when you feel angry
Wounds, that illuminate...That spirit, that planted the seed…unknown!Just a biological relationship…is not a home.The soulknows you not…Depart from thee.
Voice your opinion be heard Your silence is death But its only killing you Born with a purpose Have nothing to lose Only to gain Respect at the end Not from the contribution itself
Learn' to write Poetry, Always take'n by Force. Swayed'n by the Man, At'n no time Free, Just'n like a caged Black Bird, who'n never celebrated Freedom.
Say no, say no, say yes, say yes. No- to abuse. It's not necessary, not right. Twenty-eight percent are in an intimate relationship! Ninety-eight percent of offenders- aren't punished!
I'm one of kind
Tell me something Not an empty something Tell me the truth Don't tell me to just smile Or hide it all inside Cause those things aren't working I've got no one by my side.
Authentic, Loving, True, Or Bold, I watch life go by as I turn old, I love the world around me, I love the people near, to my heart... Hate, Screaming, Confused,
Life without filters is beautiful,
Music is my voice Lyrics are my words A mermaids rejoice In a broken world My infectious laughter pollutes the air Jumping in imagination With love and hope everywhere Creating inspiration
How to find it is my dilemma. Where is it hiding, or am I hiding from it? The power in me I feel swelling. It is a dark purple wave at night, rippling, rising, roiling,
My grandfather's hands tell a story
Me As I pose for that picture
Don't just listen to the "MUSIC"Pay attention to the message.Its the ignorant that has kept the intelligent arrested.
She is a young girlRosacea gives it awayFull of life, energy, and strong beliefsShe has a different way of looking at the worldNot to judge but to exploreShe wonders how others will look at her
Dream Big and Dream Small Dont let the Failures Fall Step High and Step Low Choose the Right Path to go Succeed Now and Succeed Later Succeed when you Make Friends with Haters Live Now and Live Then
Neither Here nor There but somewhere inbetween CHINESE AMERICAN that's the life i lead
Before the night During the day We all hide In several ways Hair in face is my way With no filter on I have many flaws face like sand and nose so tall
I like quoting movies- A lot. I sometimes forget that the world Isn’t privy to my inner dialogue; If the world could hear my thoughts, it would get lost, buried,
With no filter, my face is pretty average, My voice and hair are nothing to salvage. I’m quiet and shy when around the unknown, My soul and color and pride aren’t shown. When I’m near the ones I care for most,
What are humans Without screens To hide the pain The scars The truth
Painted smile, feeling vileregretting the time gone
The real me isnt pictures you see online Or even sometimes outside. The real me is deep down Wondering if its okay to be herself or hide. The real me isnt a staright A student But doesnt mean Im not smart.
If you take away the filter The hashtags, the signs I’m left bereft of options And put simply, there am I Half-hidden in the sun But avoiding the glare You take my picture neck up
There is a reason slam poetry
I am not the voice of the voiceless i am a voice that wants to be understood the sounds of my laughter brings me joy, while others remain to be angry
The thoughtless plucking of cords. Air resonating through the pathways of muscle To make sound. Guttural, lyrical, nonsensical Sound refined by teeth and tongue, By the careful pursing and pulling of lips.
Quiet, they say.
Selfies, the bane of my existance. It's just a picture, It can't really show who I am The kind, caring, smart, funny, loving girl hiden by a face that cameras never seem to get right ever. But, yet.
I don't remember jumping
“Stop being so shy.”
All is one in the universe, son. You need not fear, we all end up dying young. Remarkable fortune will surely appease Your preoccupied mind and your failure to see That salvation is in front of your eyes.
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
You're beautiful. You're inspiring. You're flawless. I wanna be you. I wanna know you. I'm scared to talk to you. I don't know if you'll talk to me. You'll never like me. I'll never be you.
I still catch myself, from time to time, wanting to call you, or contact you in some way, and tell you all about my year, or even something as simple as the weather,
It's hard to Believe in yourself Knowing your voice And to let it shine through Care about what they say And you say don't Listen to your heart Stop please Know your worth
Pay no attention, To the girl behind the curtain. She's got nothing to say. Her voice is not important. Pay no attention, To her weakened state.
I want to talk to you so much that your words turn into chocolate, Sweet as they cascade off your tongue.
Stands on edge of precipice, Ebony abyss Battle born, there has never Been a war like this. Criss-cross grooves from razor blades Creeping up young arms Voice in barren wilderness,
In our judgmental society, people are ridiculed for everything: Our looks must be perfect. Our personality must be perfect. It’s a tough world for many, and each has their own problems.
Mr.Bully, your words hurt me and so does your hitting and punching Everyday you make me wish I could fade away I try to be strong but sometimes I cry I'm so tired of saying I'm okay because that is a lie
an inaudible sound unspeakable words that are spoken but not heard not yet voice is presence to have a voice is to command speech demand attention to speak the thoughts
Do you ever feel alone? Like the world is on your back, but you have no one to bear it with you. And you struggle and struggle, but you can't fight it on your own. Then someone comes
This earth is being attacked by what we produce And we live as if there is nothing wrong
Don’t let people know who you are, who you really are, since glass hearts shatter easily by those who have been equipped with stone swords from birth. Don’t let people know what upsets you, since
Each night I lay awake Waiting and waiting To listen to that little voice. It’s the voice Of my heart,
I learned long ago how to be strong; to hide my fragile heart.No one knew all the while, I was broken from the start.
Thousands of voices, Millions of people, Harmony, But not a symphony,
John Dominique once said, “You cannot kill truth. You cannot kill justice.
What is it I'm trying to say? As everything goes quiet and you wait for me to speak, These words lose themselves to this silenced volume abandoning me, Abandoning me and leaving me with no voice.
You know I wrote a whole poem not more than two seconds ago what a shame I let it go i wish I could rewrite it
Poetry, short shtories, novels I write as a release, as a love I write like it's my personal gospel Because it's my reality I'm aiming to be free of My mind is it's own cinema, a library
Everyday I'm living, going through the motions without any devotions, trying to fly but cannot deny it's hard to live and it's hard to fight Back.
I love how you say you’ll listen… help…
A voice, The sounds in your head, The sounds that surround us, The voice to be heard. To be heard by who, By the person next to you, By the person in control,
Whispers in the WindWritten by Adam M. SnowEntrance me with your tune,that gentle voice of yours.
What drives me to create poe
Dilute my ways, they try But when written in text it's as sacred as the bible's psalm I hold each story captive Each poem is my soul's refuge I give voice to the intangible You never knew her
Hi Annie Hi my name I am unique and very passionate about God I'm very bright in all I do I learn about love at the age 16 . love is God Love makes peace Love is truth Love is bright
If I cry to the heavens by moonlight
To be heard in a crowd full of peopleis like looking down from an airplaneWe are all ants hereNo one is differentEveryone is the sameWhen I speak do you really hear?
Flowing melodies have encapsulated my heart since birth.
Flowing melodies have encapsulated my heart since birth.
I t ’ s a l l a h a z e. A B L O B, a b l u r. n t I’m u c r a n. e i
Judgement on this world Society truth. Hatred. suffering the Lies
I have a smallish voice. It carries the weight of massive expression, But bears it alone. My visions detonate in the world around me, They scatter and end up in every corner
The voice, oh how lovely it is, let's you speak, speak your mind that is, why not speak your soul your soul is yoruself, one which cannot replace you dear , oh dear, i love you very much,
I have always been the one left out. I would speak, but i was never heard. I would stand up, but get slammed down. With all the unheard words and the put downs.
I have felt the burden she carries
Speak My life was like a loaded gun Waiting for someone to use me Waiting to be pointed in any direction My reflection was silver bullet clean My look was mean mugging me
There is a voice that calls in the darkness. They say he walked the wilderness With naught but the clothes on his back. They say he cried out for days on end About the coming of the light we lack.
I try to stay away from you But you keep on coming back I see the desperation but I do not give a flack You're a crazy creepy stalking pig who I want far, far away but you just seem to return to me
I’m always talking about talking. Almost every poem I write stresses the importance of using your words, or the joys of finding your voice, or the pain that comes with being speechless,
In my hands I hold a photograph of you and him standing at the altar and I wonder what
To be heard is to be Waldo, found at last To be heard is to be the smallest person in any given room with the most passion of any given person
When they left their toys in the yard, my mind went insane. wouldnt your mom beat you? and your dad...teach you a lesson? your sister yell? your brother get stomped on?
John Nash’s roommate said: “If we can’t break the ice how about we drown it” We are all fighting A battle between pride and shame We our no less valuable With shaking voices,
America “ Land of the Free” But what does that mean to me. Orphans, and poverty Opposition to authority Gangs and disrespect to minorities So really how free are we?
To write each night and da
The kid dreams of being an artist. No that's to unpredictable. It falls.
One Voice, One Change I am me Surrounded by poverty People see and walk away; Those in need remain; stay If I could change just one thing
Every Day, Every Minute.... People get bullied Every day, Every Minute. Most bullies don't stop to think, "Are they really getting hurt by what I do?" Some see no wrong in it.
A Life Never Lived I hear them quarrel About my life So cold and immorel Words like a knife The truth is ungloved
We should all be able to recite Dickens's famous line,“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness";and many of us can finish this J. Austen quote,
What do I do whenOpening my mouth to voiceTo carefully shape what I think are words of beauty to Your ears,I am flung roughly asideAnd, raising my headI find myself as aggravating background noise
They ask me if I'm confused? They ask me if it's a phase? They tell me it's a choice. That I wasn't born this way.
A song so moving I felt revived the rhythm made my senses alive A voice and instruments in a symphony the connection to the lyrics gave out my sympathy
With the desire to know she is heard,
Even when I die My voice shall cry Immortalized through The mind`s eye Even if I rot You will not forgot You will hear my poetry More than the ticking of the clock
Ever since I was a little girl I was told to make something of myself To be a leader, and do my best to be the best me I could be All I knew was happiness, school, and doing good by my family
I hear a voice hovering over all the earth. You can hear it as it swims the oceans. It's strong and climbs the mountains, Exhibits a still, small voice in the plains,
A man that made her feel safe Took her in like she was his own Betrayed her by making his claim It was ruthless. She called out for help No one heard her scream Belittled to nothing -- nothing at all
If I could change the world, we would all be a little more understanding. If I could chane the world, there would be a litte less struggling. If I could change the world,
Most know that many are born with talent
you can see it, hear it, & it screams at you.
He reads his words. I listen to them, Ponder them, Then give feedback. We discuss his artwork, How he expresses himself, And I try to tell him How they affected me.
You know that thing that happens Between a professor posing a question and that First student raising a reluctant hand To answer it That awkward pause. That silence.
what we learn in the classroom, we may think id pointless, but what we learn in highschool could get us out of and political mess. As the future of our country we need to stamd and say
Falling down, falling down And then those words saved me. When I was at home and all alone I looked for an escape So I'd hide and wait, I'd hide and wait And then your voice saved me.
Sitting on an invisible desert Screaming for Help No one hears you Your voice is plastered on a piece of cardboard No yellow brick road for you
I bet it turns you on, Overpowering what the rest of us have to say, Singling out the ones that you like, Where the ones you don't care to know, Are the ones that are struggling the most,
You talk about all the money that you blowed Preaching to our youth to get throwed You Rich and Famous acting like you really cold This is one thing you never really told That the mainstream gettting old
A fairy is real when a child is young, A belief is what that idea is among, Everyone believes in something, Societal change is what beliefs can bring. Religion is something one cannot escape,
You think you're hot sh*t don't you because your clothes fit you and you got a nice whip riding after school. You think you're hot sh*t don't you because we will never be like you
Where is the color? The flavor tasted by the eyes. Where is the emotion? Hidden behind worksheets of lies. Why is it that we are slowly sinking Into unsociable demise? So we're are taught to be quiet,
Voice…what is it? Why is it that there are so many types?Some have voices…like the Mona Lisaand others have it as the crushedpaper you find in wastebaskets.
If smiles could be the measure of one’s wealth,she would be the wealthiest. Her smile is enchanting, beautiful and perfect,but a poor reflection of herself.
The fact that I hold the door open for girls does NOT make me a lesbian.
There is something growing inside me. I couldn’t tell you how it got in, or what it even is, but it grows grows grows. It’s not everyday that I feel it.
I'm subject to my opinions my views my decisions But within the chipped paint walls I'm not. Within these rooms majority rules.
Nothing seems to work Nothing could ever be said I am never heard Nobody can hear Nobody will listen now I am never heard Silence is comfort Silence is my company
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,
As far as I know love is about devotion, not some temporary potion.Don't get me high just to have me withdraw, you're dose is never enoughand you know it.
I write to make a voice heard, my voice. My voice is unique to me, and is there is only one. My writing lets my voice be heard from the billions of other voices in this world. This is why I write
Led by a Voice from within Words slip off my pen without my knowledge. They are not my Words yet my hand delivers them. These Words are spoken slowly,
Sometimes I can go weeks without remembering Why I write Why I jumble some poetic words and propel them into flight Off my fingertips and onto the screen Where sometimes while reading them I growl or beam
Looking at me from the outside You and I really aren’t all that different. I breath air, I do my hair, and I think about What I wear, and the way I walk And the way I t…
The problem is that people can only speak with oneMouth. Most people will only listen to a person a single time.
When I was younger I would sit in the back of the classroom without saying a single word My teacher would always call on me
These words were never meant to fall upon death ears These words were meant for battle These words were meant for war NO, we will not stand by and let our voices be silenced
The Sound of your voice Is my most favorite noise. Where one simple word Is like a playful kiss, For one whole sentence Is just pure bliss. I crave the words you speak
We are but black and white The letters that we write. The colors leeching from our pens destroy worlds and breathe sins.
At the age of 18, most kids got their first tattoo. I went to my first open mic. And I was so scared to push my tongue and go, I didn't want to know I still wrote with training wheels.
cracked rum eyes drum drum drum huh-umming a tune swirling like a ball in a jug a warbling happiness, tickling edge of tongue not whitman’s yawp but I’d like to think it’s similar
I suppose this is a poem about words Words have a hard time they never get it. I suppose this is a poem about voice My voice is trapped in this keyboard. I suppose this is a poem
We want to change the world. We sang it together in crowded basements. Declared it so loudly that the world may be forced to hear us. But they didn't.
At night I hear the voices, the voices that tell me I'm no good, the voices forcing me to remember, the voices telling me the past is never far. Then I raise my voice. One that used to be so weak,
My tongue twists in rapture, Captivated by the banquet of sounds to choose from. Without doubt, this sundry is a soundboard forced to play only 1-4.
They can take away your guns, your money, and your rights, They can put down your revolts, Put an end to your fight, But they can't take away your words, And that's why I write. We're at war, But what for?
Just sit back let the world spin you thats what I thought Stay still don’t embarrass your lips
(poems go here) Looking at her with her Chinchilla fur. Lady of Guidance and Grace only to shut you down in your face. With her arrogant brow she demands all to take a bow .
Heads tilt sideways Eyes peering in Hearts beat to the same Rhythm. Come with us Come with us They plead Lips glued upwards In a grin. Hair is swaying
Why do I write?I have found that, even though seeing is believingLooks can be oh-so deceiving. For me, the will to believe comes from the power of sound
Let me tell you about an unrequited love in me It is everything but quiet it is demanding and begs for my time, day and night Sometimes we are sleepless, dancing in between sheets of
It would say: For eyeliner, mascara, blush, and concealer, All there for girls appeasement And there magical purpose Remains to bring about disguise
I once read all that glitters is not gold and by no means is this an exception
I'm here in class Last one in the back No one else can realize That I have a voice that cannot be denied You say that you don't hear me But really your just not listening
Nevermind that your scared! Give me truth! Give me the first thought Not the nice thought! You, I want you! Not a mask of polite-niceness I want the hammer that breaks the rock Give me truth!
Afraid, Lost, Judgmental, Crestfallen: These are the reason why many are afraid to speak up. Poetry allows are voices to be heard, Without worrying about others beating us down. Poetry allows an escape,
I sat upon a hill and looked out at the wide expanse before me, Rich green grass covered the earth beneath me, and an honest Blue sky stretched out endlessly People walked, and ran, and laughed, and spoke, and sang
As the moon swells from still waters below The sky turns a dark indigo Yet another calm night has granted us rest And blest are those who soundlessly sleep
I'm tall, your short which ones better? big boobs? small ones? or how about this big ass, small bum I just love mine who cares, because thats the way I am! The way I am! what can I say
I can't deal with this anymore. The stress alone, The one way thinking. It's frustrating, overwhelming, too much...
Intimidated by the overgrowing sounds My mouth smothered by a trembling fear My voice lost in the jungle of words A feeling of regret blooming in my throat
I can't help it but to feel Times wasting away. With me sitting here Without words to say; With everything to say. This little voice of mine With big things to portray, In such a loud place around.
A reflection I am fat. I am ugly. All of these imperfections. I need to be perfect. I don't eat. Fat equals ugly. The mirror tells me so. My reflection stares back at me. Disgusting.
It's the harsh sound that rings in your ears, the noise equivalent to a bee sting. The white noise in your head vibrates, all you want it to do is cease it's unearthly pitch.
I've seen those hands before In a different country far from here I've smelled that scent before But it's not like he's standing beside me Flashbacks through my senses
you look at her as if she is not one of your own, her man beats her up in front of you, her screams is your business, one day it was you who got beaten up, has same bruises, scratch marks as you,
Poetry is not the fashioning of words, it is the forging of swords. Poetry is not the stanzas or the verse, it is the carriage or hearse. Poetry is not just some thoughts to a rhyme, it is the journal of time.
Never had to talk and never wanted to talk Had any problems, kept them to myself Problems with myself, the surrounding, our world, key and lock But I can’t handle this and no one else will tell
Here's to the parents who think they're always right, and here's to the mem'ries that keep you up at night. Here's to the days when you can't find the light, and here's to the demons
whispering wind will pass the booming thunder will overpass your voice will shutter and ever-last but i wonder who will hear it make souls shiver at your voice to hear the goodness of men
(I have always wanted To be free To find the light The voice in me Unique And sometimes rough serene and beautiful Yet sometimes tough I have been struggling To find this treasure
I am a lost child Fighting for a lost cause Of that lost generation My people are often misunderstood My people are often looked over My people are lost At least that’s how we’re described Age