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At my prime time I surely rhyme I write countless sonnets Like numerous poets
Allowing. Lifting. Holding. Nurturing. Being. Weeping. Forgiving. Love can hurt. But it can also heal. Love knows how to say sorry. And knows exactly how to feel. No questions, no doubts. No controls in sight. Love is the answer.
So It’s Clear That I’m A Poetic HEAVY HITTER ... !!! Because My Rhymes Hit HARDER Than HITLER ... !!! ................... See What I Mean ................. !!! I Hit Ya Like Mike Did To Yup ... Mitch Green ... !!!
Words don’t ever leave me Come stick into my mind Please rhyme, don’t ever say goodbye…
I’m not satisfied with the feigned love that you’re showing. It doesn’t seem to bother you that our marriage is failing. Judging from your frigidity and the way you’ve been acting,
I know I might sound superlicious and act so damn delirious Even I find it mysterious Everytime you come around You bring the cataclysm in me makes things even more ambiguous Sometimes I become oblivious
As a kiddie, school was cool, My teacher rolled on her stool. But this wasn't about school, It’s about my trips like a fool.
Because I love you I tend to lose my self around you I want to be everything at once Your super man… Your lover…Your best friend… Your king… I put on the cape to be a superhero But… Because I love you
Sleep, that place where fantasies keep & time repeats merged between the seams of sheets where some nightmares creep at the beat of consciousness in deep. Sleep.
I wrote this poem to explain how I think the tale of Hansel and Gretel should have ended. The Grimm Brothers and their fairytales
Rhymes, rhymes, that’s what catches my eye. End Rhymes, Slant Rhymes, Rich Rhymes, Oh my… End rhymes are the ones we catch with no hesitation,
So I've come to a conclusion, Everything and body is an illusion. Any sense can feel a tense delusion, Not sure what's real-- I feel deep confusion. So open, so crucial So dangerous, so brutal.
Things ain't the same as they was before,you must have been mistaken I will never be your whore.I blow kisses but that about all your gonna get,smooth shawty you act like you forget.
There's a crime in the mind Of a man who rhymes about the common day times The man who spreads lies in the form of tongue tied twists
Poetry’s Poem Is breathing an obsession? I think not, when breath means I’m existing. Is poetry a compulsion? I think not, when poetry means I’m living,
Tick Tock the clock mocks straight from up ahead As I lay, Time keeps pounding down upon my head. My head lays heavy on the dark blue sheets of my bed No matter what I do sleep is something that I dread.
Rhymes bug me, I don't understand why. They're simply words coming back and forth with the same ending. They are in most poems and weaved into songs. But I still don't understand
We are the
Me and Instagram we go back and forth like a pendulum
Make me a fantasy out of all of the stars, just how deep do they pierce the skin?
Many different people like lots of different things. Some like fame or TV Others like rain when it goes drip drip drop down on your window. But me? I love words.
Without filters and false smiles I am strong, Even if sometimes I feel I don't belong. I sometimes smile to the sky, and that in itself is enough to get me by. I don't have many friends,
At first glance you might tag me as the nice guy who always smiles and waves, but I think I give you some insight behind the mask today. Anyone who knows me close knows sometimes that smile is a facade covering up what's really going on.
English is a language far too complex, Ordinary man or scholar it will perplex. It seems nothing will translate directly, Because it cannot be expressed correctly.
There is a time before sunlight, when everything seems not right. When all of the plagues on the heart,
One eye Stung by a bee But with no eye working You cannot see Two eyes As it´s meant to be But two eyes means one man And that´ll get lonely Three eyes Unusually
When I say “I love you”, I mean it I know it’s right
The intensity of every beat of my heart electrifies when we depart. You have been gone for so many years over this time I shed so many tears. This emptinessI feel in my chest
Games of the heart are not easily won. Is there victory when the battle is done? Loss of blood will occur on both sides.
Pay no attention to the girl behind the curtainCuz boy I am certainYou'll have a little more interest in the one who's out flirtin'That twitch of her hips, you want her so bad it's hurtin'
She called upon me to aid her, to stop the crying. Her crying is a marathon runner who can never reach the finish line. I’m no savior, but I’m the only one left to care.
My skin burns where your hands once were like acid on light flesh. I've taken four showers today to try to wash away the pain but your handprint stays on my porcelain skin.
She’s 16 and sad, But in love all the same. He walked into her life, And with him, violence came. First it was smiles, And a love confession. But the jealousy and control,
Criss Cross Knock it off Save me the pity Ding Dong Poof me gone Plenty of us are broken Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot Threw my confidence over the moon
People need help everyday, and it never comes. Millions are starving but we do not hear their cries. Instead we are concerned with our hair and our clothes.
To commit a Murder.
The lithium for dying days,
I love you more than words can say.
I just wanna go back Cause I feel like I’m in a trap I swear it felt like a heart attack Like I fell off track
If you look to your feet, You will see a large sight, This you might not know , But don't let it give you a fright. For if you look to your feet,
This is the life of a young child damaged by the system where they will stop at nothing to see you in the prison
What a world we live in The things I see Everything is hard The struggles we meet Nothing is easy as my parents would say
"Rhymes." you whispered, "Write me rhymes... There's no other good kind of poetry." It's amazing how little you see when you look. Poetry isn't simply words on paper. It isn't just thoughts from someone's head.
Hard-to-peel oranges and sticky hands,
"I like big books and I cannot lie".. And poems that especially rhyme My escape as a child and in time, An escape from the "Me" I spent years trying to find. Holding on to the words of the pages
My world's alone and lost I just wish things were simple Words are stones in ponds I feel the pain in every ripple Time won't atone your wrongs Emotionally I'm crippled I'm Floating in the fog
Imma liar, but I'm honest. Someone you don't wanna spar with Sometimes my anger drives me, And I just can't shake the harness Mark's a literary marksman, words always hit their target
My intestines tied in such lovely bows
I do believe in one God, but sometimes I have my doubts.I do believe in prayer, but it does not have to be said aloud.I do believe in going to Mass, but why particularly on Sundays?
Mocking mirrors here and therealways relishing my despair.Never ceasing in their testimonyuntil I miraculously become bony.
Burritos deliver satisfaction to my tummy The ones from Taco Bell are super yummy The tortillas made of flour I can eat them every hour With your beans, rice, sour cream and cheese
I was first introduced By a man named Dr. Seuss. His rhymes helped me in the best of ways, Especially if it was one of my worst days. A real inspiration, Gave me a good foundation.
Emotions swirl in my head like a never ending stom cloud overhead. I'm sad, happy, mad, humbled and so many others as life's accomplishments and defeats pass threw like rain.
I write because it free's me, from all the pain and agony that's concealed deep inside of me. I write because that's how people listen to me not physically but emotionally.
Will you still love me when my locks have turned gray My dark skin losing texture inevitable as my ashes to one day fly with jays As the ticks of the clock refuse to stop you'll join me one day
Why I write To let the pain all out The sleepless nights when I wasn't thought about Kick off the pedal stool when I had something to say Made fun of because what I wore that day
time stands still as I take a seat as I feel my hands shaking the passion running through me my heart is racing this simple thought in creation this never ending tune this pattern this urge
The words swim through my mind. They flutter like butterflies in the wind Then crumble like the ashes of a fire. A beautifully worded line Falls apart, rewritten and thinned Destroyed in an inky funeral pyre.
I find no need for the slant. The ones on the end -- they bother me the most. I guess I can tolerate the internal. I can't even begin to fathom the rich. Identicals... can you even call yourself one?