words
Learn more about other poetry terms
things i never saw while awake
i saw them in my dreams
words i never heard when walking
i heard them while asleep
if you are afraid of saying it
put it down
i will read of it
When the brutal battle of bards begins
and my metaphorical sword is set
may the verse overflow like molten steel,
may it rouse Romeo and Juliet.
When my guard goes down at the close of day
Tongue trips my words.
Brain reconsiders the words after they fall.
Sound pulls them back to the depths, and they are not heard.
The words I wanted to speak worked hard to get to the tip of my tongue.
Say your words. Say your words. But speak to me and not you. Say your words. Say your words. But speak to not diffuse. Say your words. Say your words. But speak with love and truth.
You say I'm quiet.
Then you ask me a question.
Do you expect sound?
I don't think you do.
It doesn't matter anyway.
I know you hear me.
You are my best friend.
Hearts disasters stream heights of burning words,
Cutting deeper than lethal weaponry;
length and depth mined letters
When alive
we say so much than thriven trillion words
When our eyes are at their last blink
We say a moment of words.
A thousand words
Millions of letters
All of them add up to what I want to say
I want to tell you how I feel about you
I want to tell you that you are special to me
I would say all of this
I wonder when i’ll be ready to share my voice
And I wonder who will listen.
Whose ears will my words reach?
Whose scars will they scrape?
I don't know how to explain things with simple words
In fact, I don't even see things in simple terms,
But I can weave my tongue into metaphors.
It Has Been Said That... " Words Paint Pictures "...
Well CERTAIN Pictures Reflect FACTS...
But CERTAIN Numbers Make Me Wonder...
What's The Deal Are These Figures... REAL... ???
Oftentimes Right is Wrong and Wrong is Right
But how does that happen how does that happen?
It is not the acts that's Right or Wrong
but perception of those who judge
Words wander around wildly.
Worldwide the words fly.
The words wander wonderlessly.
Wonderfully waiting until
when I was thirteen years old,
I discovered the power of words.
not just in the philosophical sense,
not just in academic settings.
no, I discovered how deeply words can cut, deeper than the sharpest knife
Maybe we lost our way, not recently
that's evidentely, empathy is no longer
available in this piece of land
like alchemy principles, to gain is to give.
So …. What's In A Word ?
Well A Word Like ... F**K ...
Can Possibly Mean You've Run Out of Luck ... !!!
I shouldn't have
I should have ignored you
As if I wasn't able to see you
I made a mistake
Now I understand that
I should have never set my eyes on you
For days, I sat down wanting to writeFor days, I made excuses as to why I wasn'tFor days, I put my life on hold over petty reasonsBut I guess it's timeTime to write on whatever surface I get
Maybe speaking was a mistake
Maybe trusting you with my secrets wasn't a good idea
I forgot how much power my words hold
They have the ability to save or destroy my life
Speak up by Abigail Kuhn
The sunflowers sit beautifully undone
and like you,
for days that felt like years,
Hello.
Are you there?
I can't tell. I am speaking
Into the emptiness of space, hoping
There is someone there
On the other side
To listen.
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,
Words
Words
Words
Words
They never get through,
we've try to speak our pain
but it doesn't matter to you
Words
Words
What is it like to battle your mind?
It’s like looking into a mirror
But the reflection
That looks back at you
Talks back
Spitting back words like acid
With every word that comes out of my mouth
There is a string attached at the end
With the word "regret"
With every word that passes through my mind
It longs to be brought out
Speckled shadows on my collarbonesWhere your greedy hands wrote your name,Where my selfish whispers angered you,My desperate pleas denied youThe prize buried deeply in my chest
The heart,
that craves the taste of being intoxicated
but by love,
The poison, is it the cure or the end?
The taste of insanity
it remembers so vividly,
my flesh, my strings
my bones, my veins
You want me to feel broken
Alone, nowhere to go
I’ve heard the blades you’ve spoken
I have the scars to show
But I won’t stand by complacent
Won’t let you spread your hate
Forgiven
not forgotten
hard work
for what I’ve gotten
knocked down
kept on knockin’
fell down
kept on walkin’
Shut down
kept on talkin’
don’t give up
23: that’s how many days it took to stop thinking about you every time I woke up. It’s how many times I sat alone with hurt in my eyes this year alone.
Words have power.
words describe our excitement and feelings,
words help us think thoughts.
Thought makes us think about life.
why do we play with them?
We are spendthrifts with words,
Pretty pink elephants.
Plenty of pastel plants.
Pleasant pleasantries,
Hide perfectly placed “you can’ts”
Beautiful blue hues.
Obvious obligatory societal rules.
High horse views,
Today,
we are more connected
than we ever were before
But just because
reaching each other
is easier,
doesn't mean
we understand each other better,
Your walking down the halls of a familiar place as you see someone crying quietly in a corner.
I want you for a second to put yourself in their shoes, experience the life their living and the pain that they’re feeling.
My words seem void to their unchanging mind
Each crafted phrase drops to the floor
no one picks them up.
no helpful mediator orders them
to accept my earnest attempts at having them understand-
rather
Sometimes the words leave me and I cant speak.
Sometimes my heart feels empty, and I can’t see; can’t see what’s right in front of me, so I walk blindly.
Oh if my words could build a bridge,
From here to unknown planes.
Oh if my words could linger on,
And peoples' hearts would change.
My swords are sharp but duller still,
Inner folded
prematurely molded
time is tempted
to be bolded
small strokes of gentle wires to the face
The frame evokes a forecful fire
at waters pace
I am afraid that my mouth is a tomb in which only dead things live
I have written 38 poems, that’s 32,862 words 175,292 letters, and I can't tell you what the have done.
My teachers always told me words have power,
So many words
None I can say
I look at them
They can see the words
But cannot read them
And I cannot say them
I scream
And I shout
In a foreign language
They don't understand
If the lined pages
Were a prison
Then the words
Were the prisoners
Whose sentences
Acting out emotions may delve into extremities
Throwing knifes of truth
And bullets shredding thin
Ricochet
Ricochet
Ricochet
You can't find the words to say
Over and over again
You scribble on a blank page
Begging the words to come
But they never do
The ink in your pen goes dry
You sit in an ocean of paper
What is wrong with certain words or how it is used?
Around the world, all people have languages.
They also have words that come with them.
Certain words and certain uses of words cause harm.
I.
Communication is the empowerment of a nation
While collaboration is the key to succession
If both of these traits will work as one
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
My eyes move across the page,
Soaking in each colorful word.
Carefully crafted living poetry
Enters my mind in a torrent.
Most people use pain and death to defeat their foes.
However, pain is not needed.
Words are the only weapon a true warrior uses.
Not only can word hurt your enemy,
But words can change them also.
Words wired words weird words warded words worried words,
Worlds wrought with words, walled with words, wrecked with words,
Wily writers work with words which welcome wrangling whilst wakening weakness,
Dear faceless words, You've given me so much.
Your voice changes with what you say,
An echo of your many names.
As a wandering traveler, you taught me to see beauty.
three years old --
mumma tells me
"dont disrespect a book
else it will not teach you all that it knows"
i listen to her
and see the book in new light
i see the inanimate object as an equal
Words,
Can break my heart,
Or make it strong,
Can mend my soul,
Or tear it apart,
Words have power,
Beyond belief,
Words can transport you,
Into another world,
The words on the tip of her tongue are like daggers
Gliding through silence, stabbing at past memories,
Slicing open old wounds. It hurts - healing. Ripping
my words have power
like thunder in an otherwise quiet night
they reach ears miles from their source
a crack of light with each ink stain
while the message is carried across cities
My erythrocytes are letters
my blood is tomato soup made of english and iron
paper cuts are spelling bees
blisters ooze puss and punctuation.
Sometimes I feel if I ever bled out
Poetry?
Teach ME?
What are you anyway?
Something to be shelved
In a toddler’s sticky nursery
In a dusty nook of some academic room
In the mouths and minds of the passionate
Overcome with feeling
Looking for ways of healing
Turning to the words
When speaking comes out blurred
Poetry speaks volumes
So listen.
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
Poetry is the essence of ones mind,
it is the whispers of the soul.
Poems speaks words so loud,
you can feel the raw emotion.
The words awaken my spirit
that affects my mind, my body and my soul.
words fall out of my mouth like coins from a machine
words
words
words
so many words
the world is made of words
Words.
Flowing like the tears or blood or emotion of that which they represent.
From my brain,
to my fingers, itching for the chance to write them,
into my pen, scribbling, furious as a storm,
the first picture taken of me sits in an altar by my bedside,
a reminder of everything I have been given from day one.
a baby, curls of onyx in my eyes,
nose-deep in a book.
To see the world
Through the frame of words
The moon in the sky
Above ponderosa pines
This scent in the air
Of the rain and wind
To catch and pin
The world to the page
Words written...
Tightly bounded
They speak louder than actions
They tell a tale, or even speak facts
They explain and sometimes even break down
Their eyes gazing like the cautious owl
Words are powerful
Words can be strength
Words can be weakness
Words can be a cry for help
Or a cry of praise
Poems have no end
No limit
No rules
Just
Words
It is apart of me
It crawls underneath my skin
my lips slam close to stop the attempted escape
my stomach fight with clenched invisible fists
It is not learned in pages of text
Nor spoken from a Man's face
It comes from the whispers of the soul
From the howls of the wind
From the chirp of a bird
From the cry of a wave
i should probably
thank you.
when you left,
i had found myself.
in pieces.
when you had
gone, not just with the
flat screens & fine
china, but with the
Poetry is a form of self-expression
It helps release aggression
It’s a way of telling a story
From the way you describe it,
You learn to think the way they do.
Dark, bright, happy, sad, it feels like a hit,
To the way they write about the wind to the way the cows moo.
A gruesome and brutal beast is faced,
Knees in the dirt and knuckles in the sand,
When reality’s slitted eyes are bared to us,
Raping, scraping, gaping into our soul,
I have learned
To walk
When all I want to do
Is
Run
I have learned to
Talk
When all I want to do
I have learned
To walk
When all I want to do
Is
Run
I have learned to
Talk
When all I want to do
Looking back at the tear-stained pages
Or the fantastical flurry
Or even the self-beating words of a young mind,
I find something sweet and fitting
In the art of permanence.
I.
Lines that break
on the epitome of sound
ring forth
like the swells ~~~~
of a whale
dipping into
the sea ~~~~~~~~~
Holding my words above my head.
Words stemmed from rumors that bring out the worst.
I, the kindest soul...
have grown the meanest exterior.
All because of the words...
held above my head.
i am drowning
in words
i wish i could say
but, i cannot
it is why i wrote them
instead of spoke them
words are powerful
this a fact that should never be doubted
they can hurt or they can help
they can make you cry or they can make you smile
they can make you angry or they can make you laugh
Say what you want about me,
I don't give a fuck.
I've tried to be rational,
Now I've given up.
Words can only go so far,
Then you need action!
I've been a good girl for too long
it feels just like bleeding
like you’re slowly dying
and as you are crying,
hiding, alone at night
you and that fearsome thing,
praying that you could feel something
other than pure, plain sadness
Sometimes my heart doesn't fit in my mouth
Instead, meaningless words tumble out
I wish the right phrases could roll off my tongue
So how much you mean to me could become
To the little boy in a grown man's body:
no
stop
i don't want you there
your hands in my hair
they're cold and unwelcome
my soul has a tear
caress my cheek with ice on your thumb
I want to express what’s buried in my heart But words can be fickle things that trap and hurt I want to use them to describe something wonderful and chaotic
Life.
The universe.
Reincarnation.
Living.
Breathing.
Do you know what -
what these words
have in common?
Besides grammar -
besides capitalization -
Dear Words,
For every single one of you
Who are born and made from thousands of little words,
You have been in our lives since ¨Hello¨
Dear Sandy,
I come from a remote island
standed in the sea
nonsensically
wanting to tell this to thee,
tell you that:
Words
Dear Numbers,
You represent that which words can easily explain.
You represent something lonely and lost.
You are solitary objects that only result in a continual pattern
of more numbers to be defined.
Screaming Silence.
Filled with every word not spoken
Every Emotion never touched
How do you console a broken heart?
Or a broken soul?
What magic can you say
To take that pain away?
We cry on the inside,
thinking the best thing to do is hide.
The fear of pain gets the best of us.
We justify, it's better this way but internally we make a fuss.
You know you were my best friend
I lost the love of my life
Or what I thought was the love of my life,
And you were there.
You opened up so many doors for me
The shelves nudge my hips as I pass.
They are jam-packed with too many books to count,
But I do. I count them all.
Their pages are rough and worn.
They hold memories of eras I long to visit.
I’m not saying I’m in love, that would be way too fast.
I’m just saying I have some feelings, I haven’t felt in the past.
A feeling of comfort that I don’t reach easily.
Your lips
– Gateway to your heart –
So thin, so pink, so tender,
Like rose petals;
Wet are they not with dew
But with nectar,
The eternal and the sweetest amrita.
Go to a museum and look at a painting
Observe it carefully…you got it? Good
Now close your eyes and describe the painting
Did it have meaning? How was the technique?
Was the artist famous? Did you feel any emotions?
People say that words carry weight
And we understand it's true
That words can be so heavy
Even when they're so few
It's their emotional pounds
That weigh you down
That make you afraid
It is one moment that changes a life.
I don't care about landmarks;
This isn't what I speak of.
In my head, there are echoes of kindness,
Whispered softly but still heard.
Words roll and tumble through the air
Big words, little words
Words that glow and vibrate
And words that are content to sit there
Filling in the spaces
Come here, and lend your ear.
For there is a word
That you really must hear.
If not, life would be unassured.
So listen, please, I ask a favor.
Dear Beautiful,
You.
Yes, you.
You are loved.
You are perfect.
You are beautiful.
In our society
People are so quick to judge
Based on what's seen on the outside
No.
A powerful word.
An underestimated word.
A new word
To me.
I always bleed,
I cannot eat,
Anxiety makes me want to
Leap out of my seat.
A hand on my thigh,
Smaller and smaller they became
The words on the pages lost to an abyss
Each day weaker and weaker
And the words vanish
But the colors stay
The colors and the sound
The sound and the colors
Why do you do, the things you do?
They ask, once, and again.
And this is what I say —
Words mean little without their motion,
A motion of respectful listening.
To have and hold, only when told,
It's 7 in the morning
I'm off to my first place of learning
Imaginative Writing
When suddenly
The lady whom I've given the best 3 years of existnece to
Words.
The most powerful thing we humans posses
It can bring together nations and end wars
They can mend families and broken hearts
But
They could tare nations apart and dance in their ruins
It’s the moment you look at them.
Every single time your eyes meet,
You know in your heart, there,
that’s were you want to be.
I am a girl. I am a woman. My sex is girl. I am powerful. I am worthy. In this man made world, I am sturdy. I will not let you look at me any less than you look at yourself. I am amazing. I will NOT LET YOU BELITTLE
Everyone is a poet at heart, They come up with brilliant ideas Only to be shut down by a wired minded society. Your brilliance stands out among all of these plastic molded people Darling, Don't be discouraged YOU, Your ideas, Are what we need i
The cut is cleanly made,
When one uses the correct blade.
But if the sword is misused,
Then chaos may then ensue.
The blow is full of force,
When the blade follows its course.
I haven't written in so long. I mean truly written. I lost that part of my self somewhere along the way. Why don't I think up crazy crackpot original dream stories? Why do I no longer channel my rage into biting poems?
Created for relationship - that's what they say.
Severely precious.
Always enough.
Captivating.
Longed for.
Loved.
Fought for.
Full of potential.
Bought at the highest price.
She painted a picture
Charcoal on her hands
caressing the lines of his back.
The curves
Water to her brush
Over the white canvas
Blank and patient
Quiet
Waiting
The music won’t stop dancing inside my head.Arrays of jade.Violet.Azure.Onyx and cream.Colors and tastes.Fresh mint.Vanilla icecream.Sharp citrus.Soft cheddar.It lifts and tilts.
They drip and slide so quietly They are coldThe tears form a puddle And into it she looksAnd sees her reflection Such sad, dark eyes And the girl whispers Through cracked lips
I don’t talk a lot At first And I hope that that’s okay But once I know your warmth And feel safe letting words escape When I know they and I don’t annoy you Then I’ll tell you
Books are my escape And if you’re reading thisI think they’re yours too And that also means You’ve dealt with the people Who ask: how? You wanna know what I always tell them?In books I find love
Poetry is art.
A way to release your mind.
And haikus are cool.
the constanants tingle, the vowels vibrate into placenot quite creating the words but leaving in my brain a faint traceI can feel them in my body, they move from my head into my heart
Every evening I died of a sickness of depression,
As if all that caused my pain was a hybrid of my immense emotion,
My actions reflected my thoughts and I was unable,
Oh how wonderful words are.
They can empower, they can uplift, they can entertain
giving someone the courage to attain their dreams.
Oh how powerful words are.
Whether it is sooner or later, people will reveal their true colors. Eventually, the sparkling gleam of fairytales and new beginnings fades into the dark enchanted woods of reality. Imperfections. Losses. Disappointments. Failures.
Perhaps
we are all blind sometimes.
Our vision becomes shrouded in the pitch-black
darkness of our own rotten words.
Our blood turns cold, emerald with envy.
These words of praise.
Come in little phrases.
"Be Safe." "I love you."
Just to name a few.
These words of curiosity.
They show our generiosity.
"Are you okay?"
Words I use to build up hope.
These words I use to help me cope.
To deal with the pain, I felt for years.
To help me with these childish fears.
Words I use to express my Soul.
You bring out the psycho in me,
the hot-tempered child in me
sending me back 15 years to crying to only obtain cravings
You bring out the psycho in me,
At 6 I never had a friend
So when someone came up to me and said
“Bare your soul and I'll give you the lint from my pocket,”
I told her, “You can pay me by being a friend.”
a week so before, lifewas lived as a cinematic dreamit was daYs of joywalking alongwithout a touchstepping upand downin a buildingwith flooRsand glasseswhich makesOne witneSs
Words like rain.
Words drop like a constant rain,
Drowning out all that is humane
Words like rain.
At first start small
There are thousands of wordsI could say to youThousands of words that have crossed my mindWords that stay bottled insideWords that I try desperately to hideTo ignoreI see you passing by
Every last word is meIs a part of what makes meWell.... meThey are an expression of my beingAn expression of what I'm feelingEvery last word
Words
Are magic,
Wrapping around your soul,
Burying itself in your heart,
Branching out into your mind.
Words
Are incantations,
Lifting you up and
Tearing you down
In succession
To take away,
with the accordance of a fowl,
the flight of a child
is not the loss of air.
The wings that protrude
from the back of your aims
are the soul that keeps one on fire;
I once would take
to cutting and mark upon my skin.
I know the thoughts haunt me
and run over me in surprise.
But nothing consumes my mind
as much as your smile,
and the light behind your eyes.
careless yet care ridden
your lips dripping with honey
so sweet you’re rotten to the core
me, innocent
innocence
My fingers graze the back of the page on which I spilled my soul. I run them over the indentations where my pen carved my feelings into the pure, white, sheet. How is it that such an act could be considered normal?
You walk into that new shop on the corner. You've never seen it before. It's inviting store windows and beautiful exterior pull you inside. What are they selling?
words.
When you hear or say a word too much, it stops sounding like a word and you question it, yourself, like, “am I spelling it wrong, am I saying it wrong?” and then “is this even a word?” that’s so odd, isn’t it? Why does that happen?
Ink
Quickly the ink spreads, running across the pages.
Making sense within their lines, keeping records through the ages.
Words are imporant,
Flashy or dull,
However the meaning changes,
With the way the person behaves,
Without an ear to listen,
They are only sound in a world of many,
Without a mind to comprehend,
We are created with only three Words
"i love you"
and the love exuding from those Words is somehow enough to create another life
and as that life grows, she learns how to say the Words that created her and more
I often Sonder when I walk the street.
All People I will never officaly meet.
All of them have lives as vivid and complex as my own.
I often think of them when I return Home.
All the words I never knew existed.
The creative langague of
flaunting words together--
each transition
a contortion of imagination
and the fantasy of reality.
These are my faithful inspirations
because words are my pearls
I can't let go of the past.
It isn't that simple.
The memories are engraved in my brain
Like the scars on skin.
They play in my head over and over
Like a movie on loop.
If I could simply forget them
You told me you weren't good with words,
or writing poetry,
But sweetheart, you don't need words to make poetry with me.
It’s against the rules to bawl here. Not because someone said it, not because it would hurt anything. Just don’t cry. It’s that simple. Just don’t feel. Quit it.
It cuts like a knife,
yet it brings me life.
There is so much hate
and I’m crushed under the weight.
It’s so encouraging and nice
it provides love, joy, and peace.
I took the pen where words failed me
I had no sword to fight,
The dragons that had besieged me
From day to my very first night
I wrote to silence screaming
And bid demons stay away
"Having a Coke with You,"
I thought I had fallen in love with the protagonist of "Beastly"
but really the works of Frank O'Hara made my heart swoon,
the poem soon became an embedded memory.
The power of poetry is incredible.
To pick up a tool and paper and decide,
I will change something,
with words...
is extremely powerful.
Humans have the ability to communicate,
It's too bad I'm not a mas-o-chisttie me down like i asked-for-this
I'm screamingI'm strandedAbdicatedAbandoned
No. Free. Will.
Life is a puzzle
A mystery
Finding our purpose
Is through finding ourselves
Finding ourselves
Is through our exploration
Words coursing through our veins
Yearning to share their secrets
The air is thick, stifling
My heart sinking
Stagnating, then exploding
Filling my mind with a million senseless thoughts
Somewhere amidst the chaos
I can hear the unspoken sounds of words
To the quiet whisper of
Gaily, shuffled, and intimate
To the distant rumble of
Revoked, sanctify, and rebellion
Each word is humming a lullaby
Literature is….!
Boring.
I slept through Kipling,
Napped on Dostoevsky,
You think I liked Dickens?
I used to say that "love" was not a strong enough word to describe my feelings but that it would do for now.
I could go through the dictionary and look up a hundred synonyms to describe the feeling when I looked at him.
Adore
It's only 5 letters but feels more like a mouthful.
You've bit off more than you can chew now you're choking on it.
You can't swallow your pride so you spit it out.
I was once asked what I think God's greatest creation is. Some say people, chocolate, music, naps. She said love, he said Disney World, I said words.
I once was a little girl
Who one day picked up a pen,
A notebook,
And never looked back
I became fascinated with words
That sang and danced
And told unique stories
Unspoken words
on the surface of my mouth.
I wonder how, in deep thought, I lay.
I wonder how
How to release, to let them flow
These unspoken words are much too powerful to just let go
Painted Upon a Page my unspoken words sit.
Sour and horrid are their meanings... deeper than I would like to admit.
Seventh grade, my friends left me
All I had to console me was family
A new Taylor Swift C.D.
The melody
School was tough with no seat
No one to meet
When it was time to eat,
I am not a poet
I am no poet
I don’t craft images with my words
Images of hope and healing
I am not a poet.
These words are a salvation
that flows from the need in my chest
through my arms
and out my flying fingertips
These words are a salvation
stemmed from the same feelings
and whirls of thought
Reality is whatever my words make it.
A long forgotten shack in the middle of a blizzard,
Why must I speak?
Whenever I do, conflict ensues.
Words are spat into each other's faces,
False accusations in all places,
As I helplessly watch.
I apologize yet again,
I read that words have the power to change us and for the longest time, I refused to believe it.
There is a girl,
And she is young pretty and bright.
But, she lived with words inside of her, like a parasite.
They could be nice, gentle and loving,
like a mother is to a child.
Maybe it was my realization that placement of words and spaces could literally shake a nation,
Wake a generation, stir a congregation, or transform no way into more ways.
Can someone please tell me why this world is so full of words I can't understand
Why I can't comprehend
please lend me a hand so I can understand how to be your friend
I’m not much of a poet
But then other times I think
Maybe I am if
Only in some ways
In a rush or a trickle
When I least expect them to
Words have a way of
Flying from my hands
Compulsions undescribed
No outlet for emotions
A cage of my own making
But I forgot the door
Tick tock
Goes the clock
Ticking my thoughts away
Deeper and deeper inside my cage
I am seven years old and the luckiest girl in the world.
I sip tea with fairy princesses
And spar with pirates.
There are so many words that have left my body,
that don’t graze the inside of my skin anymore.
I write knowing that the word and the moment
The first time I walked in
I smelled the scent of her candles and penciled in meetings
She said speak
So I spoke
Then I cried.
It began.
The next few consultations
Words roll and tumble through the air
It’s funny, because those words hold the most possibility
We either hate it or love it, but everyone uses it
Some words flash their importance and stare you in the eye
Saying too much is regretful.Saying too little is poignant. But what is it when you feelyou've done both at the same time?There are words left on my tongue,shards of sentences I'll never utter
it was like clay:
a keyboard.
molded everything she wanted to say.
when she was bored
had a desire to record
needed a sword
or a place to explore
poems were that medium.
What is a poet?
Me, you, the world.
What’s it to me?
I tell a tale
With words and thoughts
Muddled together as a I talk and sing.
Trying to get people to understand
The world within me.
Sometimes, I don’t understand.
How do people study so well at things that they don’t like?
I just sit and get even more distracted when I try to study the topics I’m not into.
Sometimes, I don’t understand.
A world dealt with the aftermath of countless lifetimes laden with crueltyA world in turmoil and controversyA world trying to expand and trying not to expandSuch is the world I was born into.Not everybody is happy.
People mistake my sadness for poetry,
But what they don’t realize is,
It’s just my soul bursting from me.
My mistakes,
My heartaches,
My life,
My strife.
I write them all out,
I’m there for you whenever you need me
…except for when it’s inconvenient.
You’re the most important person in my life
…until someone better shows up.
I’m sorry
…that I got caught.
Words flow through my veins like blood;
I feel them pulse and quiver through.
When my tongue is thick and mouth runs dry,
I will write the words I cannot say.
I will write these words to you.
The curling of a pencil's lead, creating lines for words
that fell from my mind and into my tiny fingertips.
This is the distant, glowy memory of when I first fell that pull,
that longing to gently press
When I write I never ask why.
I never had to think about it.
It always just happened.
But it wasn't until I noticed
That I write to survive,
I write because words can save lives.
Some see numbers and it makes sense, but other can't even understand cents.
Spanish is to an english speaker, as math is to me.
Gibberish.
I see words and can eloquently translate it's thoughts
Your mother's silvery soft spoken voice as she tells you she loves you
The first word that escapes your small pink lips.
Your wide open eyes, as they glaze over each sentence of To Kill A Mockingbird
Once there was a girl that cried at night
Her daddy would hate and hit and fight
When she got older her mother remarried
And it felt as if a great weight had been carried
But she couldnt forget the scars in her mind
I was born with many words,
Better words than I can say;
Every time, before I catch them,
Those word-birds fly away.
This might be for the best;
If one nested in my mind,
Tell me poetry
Why would I write for you?
I stare hard at the blank lines, demanding
You're a wielder of words, they whisper
Without words, our world would be so blurred and absurd. For ages, I have tried to look up the pages to why words are so outrageous and contagious. If I ponder a little longer I can conclude that words are stronger than any monster.
I open my mouth with words ready to express
All that escapes are jagged chokes that fade into the atmosphere.
She verbally slaps me with those same chokes
He glares at me with his once warm eyes.
Poems, books, words, and quotes you are the love that I have found in literature.
if you asked me to say what poetry means to me
i could not write you a poem about it
for i write poems when i feel broken
or hopeful
i write poems to burn bridges
and build new ones
for myself
Throughout our childhoods,
we’re taught to trust in the things shoved down our throats by the tv screens,
We don’t know they're lies of course,
It’s all so real to us, it’s all we know,
We like to pretend that we're the three wise monkeys,
We pretend to be blind,
We turn a blind eye to evil,
We pretend that we're blind and that it never happened,
You had thought your words were fun You had thought it was a game But you didn't see the wave of disaster your words became When the words once said were manifested into a knife And the knife it cut It cut deep Deep into the skin And the sk
With the flow of angry fighting words, I take my final stand
Soaring brighter ever higher in the fire of my own hands
My great song will not diminish in this whirl of wonder when
Words found me lost,
And at once brought me home,
So pain would not accost
Me at any place that I roam.
For an outlet I searched,
To take the pain away,
But the power 'nside me sat perched,
It was in Creative Writing class that I first discovered my love-
a true and faithful love-for the wonderful world of poetry.
Before it was all just words to me. Words lined up like strange little
Together we relax in each other’s company.
The stresses around us drift away.
Together we talk for hours about destiny,
riveting lives around us display.
Begin with a blank canvas
A piece of paper with no identity
And scribble a word or two
Make your memories into a photograph
Using only what you know best
Words
That is the axis
Hello, hola,
Bonjour, ciao,
All are words of salutation.
Goodbye, adios,
Au revoir, ciao,
All are words of valediction.
Ciao and ciao, goodbye and hello?
A notebook. A pen. Swirling thoughts raced inside my head. Biting lips. Darting eyes. My emotions were in disguise. Overwhelmed? Yes that’s true. It left me with only one thing to do.
All I need?
I guess when it boils down to it,
The bare bones, when everything else is stripped away
Are just... Words.
The words that both anchor me
And set me free
Without the words,
I write to ease the pain of the day,
untold with many stories to say.
My pen moves swiftly along each line,
while I sit here and wait for the words to align.
Hours upon hours,
while each word empowers.
Words are like beads
Threaded together in an eccentric piece
Words fill all my needs
In a satisfying release
You ask what I can’t live with out
Words are what I chose
If not the man
then the thought of him
if not the thought of him
then his words
his words in your head reminding you who you are and who you ought to be.
I could live all by myself,
Yet never be alone.
Two covers and a spine,
Can make a charming home.
Wallpaper of rustling pages,
Songbirds warbling in verse,
It swims within variety,
As if it were an ocean,
From sorrow to prosperity,
The image and emotion,
When the words make me cry,
“Have you ever heard of the power of words?”
He sounds like some sort of Jehovah’s Witness, standing there on the sidewalk with his books hugged tight to his chest, staring at her with eyes so impossibly wide.
All I had was found in you
Callow was my feeble heart, one unable to look past the light bombarding your soul.
Quell this pain my nerves are circulating through my body.
Continuously evolving into a new being.
On the contrary, my shell seems to remain unchanged.
Monotone drones of the voices urging me to want more.
How could I stop?
How could I just throw all those years away?
Leave behind that little jewerlry shop?
Act as if my characters don't have a say?
I need to write.
They asked:
which thing would you choose, if you could
only choose one thing,
over all things?
I could not respond.
I am one of those creatures that
Back and forth
Back and forth
Scanning the lines
Finding the rhymes
Eyes flicker and flit
Watch the words split
Feeling the pain
Dancing in the rain
Alongside the unsung hero
I cannot wrap my head around your existence.
Not something as delicate as a butterfly’s wing, or overwhelming as the presence of death in the fall
Maybe the sound I hear isn’t the melodic tone I perceive it to be.
Even angels couldn’t open their lips to evaluate its harmonious wonder.
Gross words a tangled mess,
leave me alone and let me rest;
im tired of you and your unknown meaning,
leave me alone I don't get what your seeing;
being kind and I might let you be,
I want to create
BE
Become the current
Ethereal reality
No authentic fakery
Forget time spent
Live in dreams
Read in books
So in reach
I want to act
DO
A goddess, leads to shoes, leads to sports
Leads to drinks, leads to cars, leads to on and on and on
Words and words and words
Such wonderfully malicious beasts
When released
by those
who know
I cannot stand, nor sit here in this darkness i dread
There is none to follow me or compliment this ability
I cannot hold such negativity here in my hand
The pain, too much for me is now rotting in the corner.
I could see it in your blue eyes, nothing much but hate
No love,just spite hidden behind those things you call eyes.
Your words spit out as lava, filled with deadly venom.
I knew you once, and this thing you called love
The same twenty-six scribbles compose every story
I’ve ever fallen in love with.
The same chords write every song
That’s ever touched my soul.
The ability to create something beautiful
When you say that you are fine,
It leaves me lost to where your heart lies;
What to make of such a quandary
With diction so abstract in nature -
I am granted the privilege akin to a diety:
Words have a pulse,
They bleed and they bruise,
Like a heart’s beating impulse,
Only that you get to choose.
Like a scream gone ignored,
Or a sob in dark, behind closed doors,
Storms are like anger
They come when they feel like it
And leave when they are done
At first there are small gusts of words
Those small gusts build and build
Then eventually they erupt
"I am so different now
I never wanted to stand out
I wanted to fade into the crowd
But my thoughts were just too loud
A whisper to a shout
The words come pouring out."
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.
There is always an ember burning in my heart for you
This type of love is rooted deep inside my heart
Heard it in the hallway,
None knew it floated my way.
They seem to stage whisper,
In tones that are crisper.
What they say is quite alarming
And very much disarming.
Why keep pretending?
Some say words are useless
they are inaccurate
idealizations
that never capture the true nuance of meaning
Some say words are useless
Let me steal you away with a couple words.
Bring your heart up high, higher than the birds.
Take away your breath, for its mine to keep.
Pull you in my arms, til you fall asleep.
Walls of white.
The black of night.
All of which confine
this voice inside
I try to hide.
I dare not cross the line.
This voice,
it grows,
my eyes,
they show
Say the words you know will burn a fire within me
Say the ones that you think will push me
Say them.
Please say them.
Becuase I promise then,
I won't feel bad walking away.
A thousand times they escape my lips
Throughout the passing of dusk and dawn
They slip by too fast sometimes
Leaving only cruel regret
I cannot measure the harm they caused
Nor the joy they brought as well
Growing up we were taught about the sticks and stones and broken bones
We were taught that cruel words are just intangible objects that can't really hurt us
That mean words mean nothing
So um I like wrote a poem because like I'm sick of people telling me I need to like talk with confidence.Maybe if you actually paid attention to what I said and stopped degrading women for everything I would have this confidence you speak of.
A statue of metallic human shape,
posessing life and tongue of silver shine.
Adept and witty speech of gilded shine,
observant voice that no one could escape.
For praise, it sings of glory sans mistake.
You are his Summer Girl. His Early June. His Late July. You are his quick fix. His in-between. You are his fall back. His default. You are the One That’s Always There. Baby. Do not mistake this for love.
SaltwaterMy words taste like the seaRemarks can slaughterEverything that means so much to meI am no longer youngerI am now old enough to knowIgnorance can still echo like thunder
parentheses
parenthetical thoughts never expressed
repressed like sexual urges in children too young to know
what sex is
what an urge is
Silver-tongued or flustered, Your words make my heart pound. Awkward or with lustre, Your voice is still the best sound. You hide a smile behind your hand, You cheeks go red, that I understand. Gentle words that blow me away, You always
I love the way a man walks
swagger to the side
left to right he glides
the way a man talks
whether deep or light
his voice is just right
the way a man smells
makes my heart excel
Words Fall through me
They come out in droves
They burst and explode
Like a gas can that just got shot
violently
They trickle like a brook
that's been throttled by drought
Your words not only hurt me
but make me feel so low
how can you just look at me,
and already assume this is what I'm about?
All my imperfections and flaws
What gives?
What takes?
What mends?
What breaks?
What heals?
What hurts?
What strips?
What girts?
What never dies?
What lives on?
What tells lies?
What are our songs?
Tell me your twisted tales,
weave your web of lies
Bring me all your secrets,
cross your heart and hope to die
Leave me with no empty space,
fill me to the brim
Overflow me with your words,
See,
Hydrogen atoms started at the beginning of everything,
At the base of the Big Bang,
Words use one way.
Can make you HAPPY.
Used another way.
They can make you SAD
Than words can be used.
To express HATE.
A little HitchhikingBot.
Met his end.
Words are my favorite
They flutter on the pages
Of crisp papers
Handcrafted letters
He was nine.
Hadnt experienced a thing
Expect for being tortured, harassed
And the horrible things that words can bring
Words hurt
They hurt more than sticks and stones
*in response to my n'th reading of The Book Thief by Mark Zusak*
It's 11am and 257 pages
The words have rinsed over my beaten and bruised soul
as the rain.
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
An inspiration of words, whispered one last time; for a crowd of mouths to listen.
An inspiration of sound, screamed with passed-on passion; for one to know, and many to hear.
I wonder when it will be easier
to place the letters together.
To form the letters into words,
and the words into sentences,
Violence would have saved me.
A thought I struggle to comprehend.
It were the words that degraded me, broke me down,
they wrapped around my neck.
"Piece of shit"
"worthless"
"a mistake"
and all the cannibalistic bullets trapped n digging through the fox hole
cant stop me from letting my silence speak to you
cause when words hit you dont hear a sound.
Some people say that writing is like breathing, but I disagree because
Turn my tears into words
Words that shows how it hurts
Though can never be heard
I'm still writing this words
I walked off MeAnd into the Corridor of my houseIt was not the sameHad mirror wallsBoth the walls strangelyRevealed strange imagesOf my familiar self
There are 26 letters in the English language.
There are thousands of words
There are millions of sentences
and you control this entity with your one mouth
To build empires
To tear down nations
I am a wanderer
I allow myself to explore the outer reaches of my mind and world
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
Words lose their meaning throughlies and deception.They begin as mere plain text with a definition to follow,but soon are tossed around in a batter ofgenerously margined synonyms and false connotations.
Skin can break
bones can shatter
but words will forever ffill the air.
Unbreakable
filled with power.
They win wars
and stop hate.
They can be used for greatness.
My forehead is a little too tall
My nose is a little too there
My face is round and my hair just does this thing
I don't really care that insert celebrity name here is dating
"Poetry,"
he said,
" is so over-rated."
"So many thing are,"
I thought.
Simply because people
hold them above the things
that are more valuable,
and more under-rated.
Words without reproof, naked and ashamed,
Unheard, but reached by hundreds; they’re my words spoken.
But I am the king of the Jungle! A lion untamed.
My power lies within the boundaries I have proclaimed
What is “Flawless”?
Like what does it mean?
You don’t know, well here is a definition
Flawless by definition means without any blemishes or imperfections; perfect
Now tell me are you flawless?
Since last Thursday night,
my three year old man has
Disappeared into the clutch of
Time.
My three year old man can do so
Much more than I thought he could.
He plays the keys with more
Looking into the abyss
What do I see?
I see me
Wearing my ugg boots
And skinny jeans
“I am pretty”
I say
“I am smart”
I say
“I am me”
I say
I just want the me I was before I knew what it was like to have to live each living day without you, it's been such a long time since I've seen me and I miss me
I’m hecking emotionally aloof
Somebody tells me they love me
So I tell them ‘thanks’.
But like really I’m pretty clingy
I need attention 24/7
But from my close group of friends.
AND GUESS WHAT WORLD!
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.
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.
Type.
Just type.
My fingers dangle above the keyboard,
Splashing each word, verb, sentence-
That comes to mind.
The words are like snow to me:
Soft,
Delicate,
And pure.
Time after time people are labeled as things
Words of hurt, words that crash dreams
Because of how we look, not for what we be
But ignoring them all makes me a happier me
I will miss those words, lostNow forbidden from my mindMy body refuses greatness,So I can't repeat them a second timeThe first time is the best though,And if not,Simply remembered for being first.
My words without a filter,
They are pulses ripped from my heart,
They are thoughts carefully caught from the darkest depths of my brain,
They are not affected by this so called casual speech that many people engage in
I try to speak
And my words
Are trampled down before they’ve left my mouth.
I try to speak
But it’s like
The most important words are the most loud.
And they wonder why I’m quiet?
Words are powerful.
They are the means by which people can be broken or healed.
Words are cannoballs.
As soon as they are fired, it cannot be reversed.
The damage can only be repaired.
If one word or phrase or sentence I say,
inferno breaks loose - The townspeople flea
from trembles, pulsations, and rifts in the clay.
Magma to lava, from humble to greed.
Today I learned that you can create by a word at a time.
Only One at a time. Oh, so bare.
I want all the words.
To steal words put them into my pocket
Never take them out
I am me.
I have a passion for sports, but I am not a "jock".
I love learning, but I am not a "nerd".
I enjoy relaxing, but I am not "lazy".
I wear baggy sweats, but I am not a "bum".
I am me.
Wanting to show my kindness, intelligence, beauty
But fear that my confidence will receive the labels of pride and conceit
I'm just going to be honest
Every inch of me is flawless
Vulnerable, anxious
Camera, Camera on my phone.
Filter away all my flaws,
Surly I do lie,
but beauty is key ,
Without filters,
We shine flawless like gems,
Now we see eye to lens,
Simple beauty,no trends.
I grab a rag from the old wooden stand;
Society was staying my hand.
Begging and screaming to not take it off;
But as I stared at myself in the mirror;
I was not happy with myself.
As people say I am not I look around and find an empty lot I try not to worry for they never understand My gift and duty I have on hand.
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.
Jokingly, at himself, “Idiot.”
All too dramatic, “Can’t you do anything right?”
Laughter. “You. Are. Worthless.”
They don't mean it,
I am simply me
Nothing more nothing less
Do I speak differently
Why yes
The shaking you hear is not my choice
Scared that the next word I say will not come out
Words they flow
from my mouth
like a river running wild.
Nothing can stop the tide.
Words they flow
from my mind
creating new worlds.
Destroying old irrelevent thoughts.
Discovery meet, most sweet substantial,
A grim victoire in sober fierce,
Which knowing in its talent fines
To piercing use; the cup hath brimmed
And overflowed in talent honed,
If I died tomorrow
Would you miss me?
If I died tomorrow would you think twice about the good times?
Or would all the negative and bad times be in your minds
The way my hair falls on my shoulder,
the mole on my right leg,
and my hairy knuckles just make me flawless.
The scars on my feet,
the way my stomache folds,
and my bushy eyebrows make me flawless.
It is odd
If you think about it;
How words work.
Just a motion of the lips,
A simple sound,
Some squiggles in a note
Can mean so much
Or so little...
They control us emotionally
Are you ready to see what hides behind the curtain? Can you handle something so uncertain? All you can hear is laughter from her lips, and see a shadow moving her hips. Are you ready to pull the curtain? Are you ready for the uncertain?
"small lips", "big nose", "pale face",
"big eyes", "small thighs", "fat in the wrong place",
"awkward", "strange", "too shy",
but "dont let them get to you", "dont you cry"
smile, smile, smile.
Between Creation and Destruction
Lies creature, creed, cure, cry
Desire, despair, and danger.
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.
I can rhyme words without a rhythmbut as soon as I try, I lose the feeling.So I’ve learned to let them flow,let ‘em rolloff my tongue - or in this case my pen -
Voices matter.
Without a voice, Hitler wouldn't have taught us the power of speech.
Without a voice, Martin Luther King Jr. wouldn't have taught us dreams can be reached.
I write because I breathe.
I write because I feel.
I write because if I don't, I'll go mad with all the emotions rattling around inside my head.
I write because words are beautiful.
I write because they are deadly.
Words are the wings upon which we soar.
Flying through the mazes of ages we keep looking
Toward something, for something—
For what, we’re not really sure.
A way to connect, a way to define,
Why do people feel the need
To say they’re sorry for everything?
I’m sorry you’re sad.
I’m sorry you’re happy.
I’m sorry you’re hurt.
I’m sorry you’re sorry.
Sorry has become just a word
If you are Caucasian, Asian, or of Middle Eastern persuasion
everyone wants to be black for the occasion
You wear saggy jeans and you come off like this
Do you really know what its like to be black and dissed
I look too serious, call me deliriousI am too quiet, but they never seem to defy itI seem too angry, can you really blame me?
Because I am in a world
Where love and peace no longer exist,
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?
They are everything and nothing
They're communication, our voice
intangible and see through
easily forgotten or vividly remembered
They can be gentle or offensive
One day you are going to wake up and notice that you should've tried. You are worth the fight. Stop the Negative as well as start the positive. Vast things happen when you distance yourself from the negative.
when I am feeling down, but not feeling music I get my radio then I tune it, I throw my hands in the air and wave like I just dont really care.
I have too many
words
trapped in my brain
like a jigsaw puzzle
compact and interlocking
I wish they would
float
out of my mind
The museum of the twenty-first century
The nation’s greatest weapons lie behind the one way glass
Tanks take up parking spots,
Guns are in the closet,
This is not the place for them.
Read the signs,
Life will knock you down.
What lifts you up?
Maybe it’s the way
His eyes sparkle against the sunset.
I let myself smile a big unfamiliar feeling
goofy smile
because the words are pulsing
out of me.
Pushing out and
then
when they make it to the surface,
slipping like raindrops down
down
When you read my words
maybe you’ll feel my happiness
and you’ll remember the night
when we talked for hours
with no curfew to stop us.
It was lovely,
but you weren’t really there.
-
I anxiously await the day
My novel is confirmed to play
To invade your minds
With my tantalizing words
For my characters to wound
To uplift, to hurt.
For the hours I've spent
In silence to toil
Potters Clay by L.C
Pictures painted
without a brush
And sketches drawn
with just a touch
As potter's clay
We start to mold
I’ll make this simple
In today’s society words sound as dumb as a bag of rocks,
No scratch that, a syndicate of rocks,
There does that sound better?
They come
They go
They stay
They leave
But to catch them
Now that's hard
So close you come
To forming coherency
My mouth goes dry and my throat closes up
People wonder if I am mute
But the truth is I have nothing to say
What if every word had a cost?
And you paid in in full
Every 'and' 'a' 'the'
Cost you part of yourself
We would be a bit less careless,
wouldn't we?
Hopefully
Probably
Everyone uses them
Some wield them like swords
Others like shields
Some to harm
And others to heal
Made gods like them
Or made mortal by them
Some use to trick and deceive
What are limits without timeWhat is distance without a prizeWhat do you win once you have won what you have wanted all alongWhat is a fight without a warWhat is speech with no encore
It is as though
The sound of nothing
is the sound of words.
The words that you speak,
Whispers in the WindWritten by Adam M. SnowEntrance me with your tune,that gentle voice of yours.
Maybe I write because I like the feel of it.
The click of the keys
All the power of a God on a blank page
The uninhibited command held in my fingers and my mind
Except I fumble over the language I speak
Some words create laughter
Others create lies
Some may be foolish
Others are wise
Some people lock them away
Or hide them behind their eyes
Others may keep quite
The power of words is not all I have-
I could beat the living shit out of you,
after all I worked with horses
and bullies and fear-
but my feelings always get in the way there.
How would your parents feel?
Look yonder don’t you see?
That crumpled paper lying there,
Discarded without care
In its wrinkled lines and smeared ink
My darkest secrets hidden underneath a tear
Folded up and messy over there.
The Pen is a weapon
Stronger than any soward,
Ans the Mind-
The Mind is the the hero, No the Master that guidea
NO
Comands the weapon
The Master and her weapon
Everyday when I wake up I think about the choices I will make ahead.
By turning on my light will I make someone else uncomfortable.
I work a job that could have belonged to someone else.
i am an quiet.with too many thoughts to say,but no way to say it.the stutter gets in my way,followed by a cough, clearing of the throat,then silence in the air.i want to speak up,
Words have so much power.
The power to heal,
To inspire,
To attract,
To amuse,
To teach,
To excite,
To change a life for the better.
The rhythm that moves you,
The words that persuade,
The feelings and emotions
That make you afraid.
Let them all go,
They have nowhere to hide,
They might as well flow,
Shall I dedicate myself to a beautiful insanity
Or shall I suppress my curiosity, creativity?
You can only go so far within syntax
Poetry, I discovered, forgot it long ago
When I talk about you
I'm very careful
careful with words like mine, my , ours
Cause Those nouns are possessive
and you're not one of my possession
People will judge you
from you looks to you attutide
to your nails to your shoes
that is what people do
they wont remember your name
unless you rise into fame
and have money and expensive things
transportation vacation out side of reality within a box that encases me sound proof aloof in the space that embraces me
Many think that strenth lies within a number on a wieght.
The truth is strength is measured within the mind.
The mind of an ordinary person who has carried more than they can.
Who has survived the storm.
Have you ever/spoken/ words to no one,
or/have you spoken/to/everyone?
No one will/always/listen,
while/everyone/will only listen/sometimes.
There's a word for the way sunlight streams through leaves
There's a word for the feeling you get when you remember what to say
after someone walks away
There's a word for sentimental longing of the past
And as for us...
We are like words.
Apart, such vulnerability,
or an innocence maybe
but only existing alone.
Like single words,
you feel invaluable until connected with others,
We live in a broken world,
I’ve heard it over and over before.
Traditions are lost, morals corrupt -
Only to be torn apart by war.
We build and we build
Our cities stand tall overhead
There is nothing I hate more
than to watch people suffer
with problems they could easily solve,
all because they're too afraid to say something.
Everyone has that thing they can't say
to anyone else
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,
We all return to dust at the end of the day.
There are a limited number of words you can say.
Once the time comes, you remain forever soundless.
Use the words you are given,
They say the best writers write what they know,
But lately I’ve been losing my mental going off my rocker all existential.
I’ve been going off on points of tangency trying to crack the code that’s right in front of me.
They only fester in the silence.
Time is ticking.
We should stop being quiet
Because all they can do is fester in the silence.
The longer they fester, the worse the pain.
Time is ticking.
Music inspires seeds of intellectual concept to sprout from a fresh mind.
Weeds find their way into a mix of ideals when the presence of spirit is in question.
The nostalgia sets in as I attempt to remember a time in my life without music:
We finally learn how to work out the rhyme,
And we see to move on and not worry for time.
I was born without the invitation of saying hello,
yet you might say I was blind from rejection.
I guess it was too hard to live a life of deception.
words buzz and spin in clouds of confused formation
wheeling and turning, penetrating all corners and crannies with all of their information
“English Major”
Just a mouthful of syllables
Only a small bite that their teeth grind to dust
Which they pour down my throat with a disapproving smirk
To them, it gushes with the bitter taste of a prison sentence
Words long lay dormant
And out of reach,
Like shells washed up
On a barren shore
They gave the turbulen expanse
A settled beauty,
But the waves left
Nothing free.
beat beat beating
pound pound pounding
Is it a heart?
A fist?
A drum?
A speaker?
Is it all not the same?
Isn't everything that makes this sound of purpose worth the same?
Words are that of a rain drop
Words have flooded your lanes, stop
See you drive through them thinking if you just keep driving, you can drive through it
but you wont do it, words are to fluent
Words
Are a powerful thing.
Many can’t control it
Many can’t comprehend the power words have on their lives,
On other people’s lives.
Words.
One slip of the tongue,
I see people all around me
They love making life
better for their self
some for ourselves
What are words?
but a mere creation of humans.
No words can describe how I feel,
when I'm without you.
No words can explain the feeling I get,
when I see you.
You told me I had a voice like an Angel.
Then I saw the Devil's tail as you walked away.
Is there anything as beautiful as the written word?
If there is
I’ve yet to see it
Words can create pictures in your head
They can take you to places you’ve never been before
"your body is the house you grew up in" he used to tell me,
"all the paint may not be fresh and there are cracks in the doors but they make you more comfortable to live in, my dear"
Troubled spirits speak the most...
Because so much pain has the words flowing like the tears we cry.
Lost.
Drifting absently through a void, separating my adolescence from my truth.
Fear snaps me out of my reverie.
I once told him that it was okay,
I’ve been called worse.
Truth is,
I hadn’t.
And when he hugged me and apologized
Is it okay if I cheat on you?
Is it okay if I tell you goodnight I love you every time I go to sleep
Is it okay if I lie to you and take in every word you say and chew?
My paper, Blank and voidNothing comes to mindAs I write, nothingInspire me I sayStill I have nothingMy poetic words, lost
you ask me what change is
and what almost comes out
is a textbook definition
a merriam webster’s
abridged edition
My Words
The space before me is blank
Bound by nothing but the edge of the page.
Skilled fingers move the pencil across the page
Leaving a trail of grey marks,
By magic they connect together
They live inside my mind
take shelter in all its corners
weave themselves in my veins
and race each other to my mouth
dodging the filters of my teeth
they slide down my tongue
I search, but never find the key that unlocks my mind. The truth to a lie, a clue to crime. A heart that never dies, a soul that never cry's.
A writer’s sword is a pen
Green, blue, red, black, yellow ink
Inside a long plastic contraption
It spews words exempt for bigotry
And hatred.
A writer’s pen stops magic from happening during a
What is black and sometime color...
Always escaping from everyone...
Never the right thing...
So meaningful...
Yet so plain?
What is this mysterious thing...
Always used...
Steady trying to feel in this void. I find myself clenching the sheets, feeling it's texture. Smooth you would've thought... but, it's been layed in so long there's a change. Not one too noticable, but one only the owner knows of.
We slice our lives down to 500 words,
--Words which can't begin to describe us,
Hoping for acceptance to write more words,
--Words which will never be fully appreciated.
We freely offer our 500 words,
i am an introvert
a social retard
unable to act human
around even the closest to me.
what comes with these handycaps
these countless curses
sorrowfull setbacks
is my words
Determined Warrior
Pelted by deadlines
Mauled by knowledge
Held accountable for so many
Can you see it?
Hold your breath now,
It's flighty like a bird.
Do you hear it?
It is quiet
But it's hardly ever slurred
Can you feel it?
humanity:world peace!
humanity:fight fire with fire.
parents:be yourself!
parents:stop being who you are.
humans:love thy neighbor!
humans:god hates fags.
This job will not only change my life.
It will change the world.
Words can stab like a knife
But without them would anything change?
In a world so corupt
With problems that can widely range
Chaos
Habit
Imagine
universe
creatures
humans
infinite
large
small
indistinguishable
measurable
perspective
They often don't think before they speak,
Some words are strong,
While others are weak.
Some people are different,
Some are strange.
But those who are selfish,
They must change.
This is their place,
the place they freely roam;
This is their place,
the place they call, “Home”.
When I was eleven, I knew what I was going to do and how I was going to get there.
I wrote because the world looked better through my eyes.
We are but paper
Floating through the winds of life
Our skin crinkling and tearing
There are words which are forgotten
Carved and sunken in our flesh
Speaking of our truths
roses are red
violets are blue
sugar is sweet
if only you were too
youve sreded my heart
like it was paper thin
you crumpled my soul
like a can made of tin
someone gets a problem wrongthe other kid yells "retard"across the room the teacher says"don't say that""it's offensive"but why? why does a wordjust an arrangement of lettershave that effect?
Bold Dark presenceWreaks its havocAmongst the people,Poison’d human Morality,Degraded by Brutality,Guarded from Equality,Caged by harmful Mentality.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt.”
What a load of shit this is.
Clearly, the people who spew this phrase have never faced daggers of words, have they?
Literature is as necessary to the mind as oxygen to the body,
Reading helps the brain develop and imagination soar.
Ranging from an ironic drama to a jocular comedy,
Literature has several shapes, sizes and form.
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
I won’t say the English language is beautifulyet it’s enormity turns me numbit’s a curse it seems (blessing too)
Sounds are all around.
Some fill you up, some bring you down.
Words can be daggers or soft as a feather.
The tattoos on my body are words.
Read me like a novel, my body tells the story.
Graze your fingers over the text, you'll see what will come next.
The tattoo on my body signifies loyalty.
Call me insane, but I'm trapped.
In the confines of my house this time, not my mind.
Maybe both.
"Because you're a girl", replays like a broken cassette tape.
Just bear it. Just breathe.
Wait.
As she stood in the clearing with a circle of flames burning dangerously around her, her dark thoughts began coming to the surface.
'Where are you?', is what he called. The sweet childs sing-song voice called over the cloud of darkness. 'Where are you?', he calls again...giggling shortly after.
These highway lines burn designs into my focused eyes
eyes focused on a sight that blankets my mind
a blanket of where only comfort resides
This comfort, it's meaning, drowns my perception
they say words don’t hurt.
sticks and stones may break your bones
but words will never…
they’re wrong.
words will never bring tears
they’re wrong.
words will never cause death
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?
Life is a glasshalf full of something or otherYet empty of something elseAnd no one can quite agree on whichOr remember that reallyIt’s all the sameBecause life is a glass half empty of time
What has this world come?
Who says you arent beautiful if your not a size 2?
People these days never seem to surprise me,always following the new trend.
Well, i say today, today is the day it needs to end.
One Direction!
Its like an infection
Harry, Niall, Louis, Zayn and Liam
Biggest boy band ever, It almost as if they gave me a fever
I love them, yes I do.
A rainstorm of words, A twister of thoughts blunder inside my mind like a spinning top,
It will not seize nor do I want it to; I am a writer and this is what I do,
The thought of just putting them on one single page
Frightens me
It’s all me
That person is not just a person anymore
They now have a label
Not chosen, given.
Beautiful.
I use words to tell the world my thoughts throughout my day,
But the most important words are the ones that I didn`t say.
Ususally, I am not very open about my feelings to another,
You’re put into groups of those who are supposed
To shut up and keep their heads down.
You’re asked to “speak up” when spoken to
And when you do without asking
They tell you to “quiet down”
Words don't hurt she said
Get over it they said
Stop being sensative he said
.....But you don't understand I said
Words Hurt
Why do you care? she screamed
Learn to walk away they screamed
You were taught as a kid to be nice not mean
but growing up you were taught to stand up for what you believe, so
if a bully calls you out " your ugly, you stink , those eyes are too big" is it wrong to fight but
Words should never dare describe the agony at thy tainted hand
Words be the mistress to thy soul
Thy soul betrays thee.
Wretched is the language, in which one must be expressed
The words I see transparent,
I want to believe them
but yet I know there outcome.
As a plastic bottle,
these words you speak,
I've heard them all before.
These recycled words
Words have power beyond our control.
The power to heal, the power to kill,
They tell what has happened, and sometimes, what will.
Words paint pictures that are vivid and full.
It sucks to be alone
Rather be alone than with deal with fakes
Bestfriends???
I'm not sure they exist
Not talking to many people
Is something very rare
Having to deal with things alone
there it is, the tapestry
of the impassably steep.
a precipitous rambling through
numb metal music stands or beads with holes
or girls named after states.
the pass is steep. it force feeds nearly every
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.
Look once,
Speak once,
but before you do:
Think twice.
Your Words,
they burrow deep,
like grimy, sharp-clawed mice.
The syllables you say,
nouns you don't mean,
"What is it that you don't like?"
The words that haunt my every thought
Longing to rush along my lips
and spill out
Filling in the crevaces of the space around me
Words
What do they mean
I wonder if anything in life goes according to plan
Or if there will always be these little bumps
The kinks in the hose that won’t come undone
Sometimes being quiet is the best way to learn.
Like its always been said open your ears close your mouth, open your eyes and see what others cant.
So many words slipping out of my tongue;
Unspoken words, words unheard of.
Words lost in the atmosphere scaterred within vibrations of itself.
When you can't put your thoughts into sentences or,
An artist’s mind is often swallowed by indigenous thoughts. Trying to balance ones conceptions on a fine thread.
My heart is heavy.it is a wrecking ball: stone cold and rock solid.weighing me down.the weight of it,
Words
Empty, fleeting, fickle words
Do this assignment, read these pages
How many words do you speak in a day?
How many of them actually mean something?
God spoke and breathed life
Bullying,
A double edged sword.
You take the pain,
But what is it like to inflict it?
You find your target,
You spit out some words,
That have been spat at you.
I sit and write, and I'm writing now.
I listen to my mother howl,
I watch my brother sulk and scowl,
I hear my cat scamper and prowl.
I sit and write, and am writing now.
I sit and write, and take a pause.
I am the black girl sitting in the back of your classroom
The black girl that deals with racism day after day
Believe it or not, you mold us.
For every word, action, complement, insult
toward us,
is a building block to our esteem,
determining how tough, or rough,
we are.
The flavor dances to the tip of my tongue;
Of the luscious sweetness of the first hello;
Biting at the first taste what life has strung;
And spitting out my past below.
My first hello of my new career;
What a wonderful time;
For a wonderful change;
To celebrate America's;
Another coming of age.
Oh beautiful our country is;
Another year to renew;
United we stand;
Every year;
You'll grow one year older.
You'll be more mature;
And you'll be much bolder.
There is a special time;
In every person's life;
To experience something new;
I'm having these weird feelings;
For a fellow friend.
I always think about him;
Even when he's out of sight.
When he speaks to me;
It's like music to my ears.
Oh what things I wish I could have said;
That I would taste rolling on my tongue;
The sweet and sugary words of not so cliche;
And the sour spite of not feeling wrong.
To hear, if only I could hear. To hear those words so soft and fruitful. To hears suchwords when I am youthful. Time goes by and so does this rhyme, but riddle me this,
Music is in everything, it is everywhere. From the gravitating pull of rocks avalanching down a mountain, to the sound of my fingers caressing my scaple through my hair.
There's no such thing as time,
time is simply a way to organize the human mind,
let me teach you a lesson,
the clock ticking on the wall is an illusion of progression,
You’re afraid of what could happen
So you constantly keep up a wall
You are in a constant battle
But aren’t we all?
A poem is a bunch words scattered on a line.
"What is a word?" is what comes to mind.
A word is a random combination of letters
That connect well in hope to make things better.
I am a girl of love,
Compassion and trust,
Most of all I'm a girl of opinion.
And if you don't like it,
I suppose you're pretty opinionated yourself.
Have you ever felt that feeling,
Where time flies way too fast?
You're only half way through your freshman year,
And you're already looking back.
Was there ever a moment,
When you thought it'd never end?
Touch
Connect
Feel
Hold
Horror, Fantasy, Adventure, and More
Genre for everything and everything is genre
Book Stores, Libraries, Books Nooks, and more
I'm not a writer, I just think a lot. In a world so crossed and diverse ideas arise and many a times people get lost. How can we find our way back?
Dreams
Like a child's toy
Played with by imagination
But time goes by
The child grows old
The toy stays the same
The toy sits there
Taking up space
Waiting to be put into action
Someone wielded them like a dagger,
And pierced your tender heart.
Someone turned them into arrows,
And shot them into your soul.
But words that flow from my mouth,
Will be a healing salve.
. . . As of now I'm sitting here in my bedroom thinking
Of the truth behind the lies and the games
It's such a shame that I'm hurting deep within of the bones that hold my frame
What is there to do now but to wait . . . .
Don’t call him weird
You’ll crush him
Don’t call him “special”
He’ll be suspicious
Don’t baby him
Dumb it down, make it easier
He can see right through you
Even if he won’t say so
I am the girl who tears scraps of poems and tapes them to her bedroom walls
So she can read them before she sleeps
One night she dreams about a flying man
Tearing open the world’s rusted skin
The worst thing to know
is when the words won’t come.
What is poetry?
Once it was the music of your soul,
and now there is naught but silence.
You struggle with your collection of words,
Tapping the pencil against a desk, the scraping of a chair across the hardwood floor,running fingers along the keys of a piano lost in thought, what is that intangible, sweet tasting sound I've come to adore? My ears have per
Sometimes making you feel like a prisoner, sometimes making you feel set free. Sometimes making you feel like a criminal, sometimes making you feel like a king.
You screamed at me
As the tears slowly
Streamed from your eyes
And you never told me why
All you told me is
Don't be like me baby boy
Grow up and be smart
So your kids won't steal toys
Ink in the bowl goes on to skin
Culture from Africa to Americas Indians
Ink that is absorbed into the mind
Held in place forever in time
My friend and I were talking one day and he asked me,
"What do you think about the state of downtown?"
I thought about this question for a second and said...
Love,
Deep love,
Why?
I am Vile!
Villainous, Mischievous
Destructive, Productive
Seclusive, Inclusive
Hate,
Deep hate,
Why?
I am, I!
Represent, Comprehend
We got into a fight today.
I didn’t get a black eye
but an empty spirit
when words you spat
tore through my flesh
with burning sensations.
Your work left no visible marks.
Music reminding me of you,
Is the music that's most sweetest.
Places that we were,
Makes places more beautiful.
The words that you spoke,
Made words seem so powerful.
People that remind me of you,
Red and green bows
Puffy, flared skirts
Ballerinas,
An instructor standing in the middle of the hall
All attention focused on him
With his long staff in hand
And then I see them
The girls,
You walk in the room
My hands begin to shake
You look at me
My heart pounds
I can feel it fighting to jump through my skin
You begin to speak
Hey, Teach! Yeah, you-
Coach of that game.
I have an A in your class
And you don't know my name.
Your main focus are those guys,
The "populars", the jocks.
But I have talent too,
A piece of parchment, sealed in a glass case
Only for the words that are scribed across it.
Not for paper it’s written on, or the appealing handwriting.
Horror is an empty word
Loss, Bereavement
Terror, Desperation
Torment
all are such empty words
There are no words
not in English, Arabic
Greek, or German
to describe
Words can mean everything, / Or nothing. / Words bring you joy, / Or despair. / Words show you're wise, / Or foolish. / Words can give confidence, / Or heartbreak. / Words can be heard, / Or ignored. / Words can teach, / Or destroy.
When I think of words
I think of numbers, or knights
Or of nights
When the sky is an inky black
the kind your fingers
Almost slip into
Like a sleeve, or oil
If I say anything, would you be shocked that I spoke? Yes I may be quiet and shy but what is the problem? I just don't have much to say...why judge? Why judge the fact that I'm quiet? Would you like for me to speak as loud as the eyes could see.
Words
They are such an everyday thing
A mundane thing
A simple thing
But they are so powerful
Have you considered the power of words
The Bible
The Constitution
Words are too
solid
concrete
hard
to encompass
my feelings.
Feelings are
flexible
fluid
liquid
airy
They
run and run and run
The words surface in my mind;
streaming, roaring,
Clicking together like pieces of a puzzle,
From word to poem.
I was told to write a poem, a poem describing myself.
Myself is like this poem forced to be written a certain way.
Not too long, but not short
sometimes funny, happy, and sad.
Set down your pen,
Look to the sky,
At the birds around you
And how they fly.
Their wings of paper
Their calls make words.
Words that float in the air
And settle on the ground,
I am…
The rainbow
is contained within
dark brown wood and a million colors.
Yet I am just one color.
Quiet, alone,
yet surrounded
by others.
I sit on that
The color of his eyes are like diamonds. That stare through my soul.
Beautiful eyes, blue or green.
As green as the grass but with a simple switch of his mood,
turning as blue as the sky and ocean.
Will this gun violence ever stop?
Will we have to wait till we've heard the trigger click of the last glock?
Why would I want
To be the face
That launched a
Thousand ships
When I can be the
Words that restart
A million hearts?
There's a girl I knew
Who wore a curtain over her face
That blurred the person underneath
And stole her precious personality
She lived on cloud 9
In a house made of broken hearts
At the end of the day everything is done for a single idea.
A single feeling. And that is happiness.
Happiness is not an object. It is not a person place or thing.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!I wake up to my alarm going off...another day,another scar. I slowly get out of bed and set to my morning chores.I take a shower, get dressedthen I put on the darkest make up,to express my feelings. I skip breakfast...
Unforgettably forgettable
You never paid attention to her, not even if it was critical
The society would see her, but she would still feel invisible
You'd hear her name, and intimation owls go, "who?"
So you ask, Why Do I Write ?
I write because I trust no one but my self.
I write because what I have to say is closer to the truth than what another says.
I write because its a stress reliever.
A blank
page
just sitting,
waiting,
for my
words.
A blank
page
just sitting,
waiting,
for an
adventure.
Scribbling ink,letting goof words that needed to breathe.Do you feel better now?Now that your thoughts havebeen let out of their caves,dark places where their breath had
The theatre is small and close and
everyone inhales everyone elses' laughter and tears and
the cheering makes me wonder if we were all friends in another life,
or if we've just become friends because of now.
The words envelope me,
Comfort me,
Free me,
And let me speak without saying a word.
Each sylabl ringing,
clearing my mind,
and rolling off my tongue
with every annouciation.
Why do I write? I have something to say
Words don’t come out of my mouth
They come out on the page.
Once an elder sage had explained it this way:
“saying nothing sometimes says the most”
I cannot make flowers growin the parts of myself I don't take enough care oflike my mindand my heart.
I cannot repair those who are brokenand I cannot healthose who hurt.
My Poisonous Words
When I’m silent, I do think,
Compose my thoughts before I speak,
Hide your heart behind a shield,
I must confessthat it is difficult to find the proper wordsto express how, exactly, I feel.I must confess that I dread explaining myselffor fear that my eradic thoughtswould convince you of my unintelligence.
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,
I read their words and my heart breaks openWords of the soul that were never spokenCreations of the mind that were made to beVisions of their realityMy soul takes in their endless life
There is something powerful among us – something often overlooked
It can be few,
It can be many;
There is something powerful among us – something that conquers even time
This crazy , catastrophic heart of mineCan only be mended with words in a line.The turmoil that's always going on in my brain?Words are the only thing that keep me sane.
From the moment my lungs
took notice of the smog-filled air
I heard my older sister saying, “Words have power.”
I wanted to believe.
That, when I mixed a piece of
When I was young
My Daddy read me stories as I drifted to sleep
And I watched in awe
as the peaceful melody of words evolved into symphonic wonder;
a castle, a wish, a hope shone in my Daddy’s eyes.
Words change, propel, inspire,
Words give, comfort, guide,
Words cripple, damage, diminish,
but, words connect.
Words connect hearts, sentences, and people.
And words destroy connections just the same.
Words can be spoken,
written, or sung;
they can be lost in the stars,
or on the tip of our tongue.
They are such small things
There is a special
Secret power
In words
They create heroes
Craft new worlds
Share adventures
Word can be
Used by
Evil
To spread poison
Lies
Hate
They can be
Say it to me again,
I dare you.
At first it was nothing.
A black hole-
Empty, no meaning.
But, you feed it so much.
It grows, being filled:
filled with anger, tearing souls.
I can talk a lot, Now.
But it was poetry that taught me how.
Before my sentences were jumbled up phrases only I could understand,
With with minimal explaining.
I write because the words give me no rest.
They are voices in my mind
and they pester and whine
to be set
free
They are soldiers
waging war
their battle cries both
music and
I don’t write for myself
I don’t often write poetry
Words are use to express emotions
But what happens when the words don’t come?
God.
He sends a message,
a plea,
a vision.
The word must get out
Without a sound,
It must be louder than a shout!
The word is not heard
Nor is it seen,
It must be felt within the heart!
From day one we learn
We see the faces, hear the voices
School, as we grow
Lessons, every year
One thing we always gather
WORDS
From the voices
From our teachers
From our lessons
Generation Gap
Now I type but then in times
Before this our culture used symbols as words.
Indus spoke an indecipherable language to us now.
To unearth their meaning even so long after
A poet knows There are one thousand ways to tell a lieAnd only one way to tell the truthA poet knows That sometimes a lie makes a better storyThan any truth ever wouldA poet knows that people speak Sometimes without thought or purposeBut simply b
Music is my heroin. Headphones are my needles. Being able to drown you out is my highI dont tlk about my feelings. I do musical therapy. I feel better without talking.
Words are made of feelings,
A breeze on a summer night.
Words are made of real things,
Fire from a candlelight.
Piled together... just words?
Or something a little deeper?
Tell not a truth
Speak a falsehood
Underneath the mask
the veneer
We are all the same
Rotten to the core
Little Liar
Take the stand
Tell us your truth
The lie you have built
Words swirl around in the mind,
bringing meaning to an otherwise
dreaded and foreboding existence.
Words on paper or on screen
keep the dark at bay for me.
All that's needed is a pen
Contain the emotions,
We use,
For expression,
Unravel the meaning,
In every letter,
Word,
Sentence,
Breath as you decode the rhythmic pattern,
See the fine printed words among the page,
You drive me to the edge again and again
But I hang on to the ledge
With my pen
The rocks at the bottom are razors
I'm slipping
Words are my savior
Feelings and memories triggered
A troubled mind
Coupled with
A wounded heart
Shelter finds
In words and lines
That bring about
Through verse and prose
A peace of mind
That holds a power
And mine alone
I did not grow up with poetry.I grew up with music.Yet, to me, the former is no different from the latter.
Toes waving in the pool of words beneath me.
across the universe,i fall into the sky.lucy is there,as it rains she cries,"dear prudence,don’t pass me by.”
What is a life with out words,
Words are everything,
Without words how do we communicate?
Even they talk; the birds,
They have a nice ring,
Words decipher at a fast rate,
I was first persuaded by Nick,
How are feelings expressed? Through words? Through voice? Just one sound or one word can illuminate ones heart,
it grows and becomes a never ending cycle. It continues to grow until it spreads across the world like a wildfire,
What the English language truly lacksIs all the words for loveA mother, a brother, a friend or a loverWe love different from one another.
Why close an eye on a stormy day?
Is it the fear that keeps you,
or within are you shy of the matter?
Ever flowing medicine that cleanses within.
Words.
All are taken, all are removed.
This paper understands me.
It catches the words that bleed from my mouth.
Cushions the blow as they fall to my desk.
This page is the place where I don't have to hide.
My pen is the bike for an open mind ride.
The words get away from me
Sometimes
Like tricky little bandits
Dodging meter
Ducking rhyme
They leave me silently, days
And nights
A bumbling ballerina
Slipping and sliding
Writing is my escape;
To a different world it takes me.
Any character I can personalize,
Any event I can create.
Writing is my savior;
Changing my bad mood into the happiest.
Words are uniform,
Everone has some,
Yours could be the same as mine,
But without my emotion behind them!
I say the first,
But then I burst!
Unstoppable like a hero!
Habitually Speechless, attacked by my violent mind,
my mouth is a blocked exit.
Slammed against the glass of revolving doors, turning with no direction,
Ideas and words scrambled in the mind on the author
Waiting for their moment to shine to an audience
That is in turn waiting to hear the wisdom in the words.
Ideas and words that mean so much more
Your speech‒paring knives‒
Could’ve cut away the carcass
in us, you know,
peeled back our fears,
sliced insecurities
to expose the inward seeds,
if only for gentle precision.
Pen to paper, ink to letter,
Word to phrase, line after line,
Rhythm and rhyme, beating in time,
Meaning so fine, inspiriation mine,
Never will quit, the heart of the poet,
Starts when he knows it,
Words on pagesSpeak in the silenceFill the blank spacesMake thoughts clearer
Throughout the agesWords and their powerStole and stirred heartsGave strength and hope
Everything just keeps going, but no one is aware of the heartbreak that has been set before me. At the hands of a paperback book all of my emotional stability has crumbled to dust.
All great writers suffer from a disease,a sickness,categorized solely by insanity.Logophilia -the love of words,the passion of diction.Hemingway,Bukowski,Plath,they all were poisoned.
My Catharsis
I write,
To release my pain.
My catharsis,
Carries secrets:
Loves lost.
Loves gained.
Strained by defeat,
My soul softens.
Sometimes I dream
That I will see them again
My momma
My poppa
But when I wake
All I can see is darkness
I do not breathe in air
This is pure musk that fills my lungs
People feel.
They laugh, They cry,The scream.
Whose job is it to solidify these feelings?
Who is it that proves their existence at all?
It is the Writer. It is the Poet.
I bleed words;
They exit my body with a flow.
All the syllables in my head,
Must have somewhere to go.
Paper receives,
With the most open mind of all.
It doesn't criticize,
Proposed to my notebook with a pen in hand, sealed the deal with a handshake.Hoping maybe this relationship will function properly because it’s only so much rejection possible that a man takes.
The world before me
Is dark and dangerous
What lies ahead
Is foreign and uncertain
I write on paper
What I am unsure of
So that maybe my words
Can guide me to answers
Every war that was ever fought
all began with a single thought.
They are such powerful things:
the start of relationships and flings.
One thing leads to another
and your thoughts become words.
I know why the caged bird sings,
To tell me the message,
That of which Maya Angelou wrote for me,
She wrote it for me,
Just for me,
You see,
Sometimes I need a little pick-me-up,
Simple, little words
They are the only sure way
To express myself.
My terrific words
They hold infinite meaning
Portraying my life.
My humble, small words
What is poetry but words?
Words on pages, words on screens
Words hiding in heads, caught on the edge of screams.
Why do I love words so? Why do I write?
I can breath just fine without poetry
Word upon word, page upon page
This is why I write
Escape the hurt and pain, all the realities of this world
I am a warlock, the pen is my wand
And with it I create
My imagination fuels my passion
What is it that gives a word power
Is it the tone of your voice, the way you emphasize, and prophesize
Or does it come from your soul, pouring out every second, every hour
She breathes into me
Like a gentle wind
On a hot summers day.
She feeds me all I need
And gives me all I like.
Filled with such a beauty,
I am never alone.
For words and writings,
My greatest friendship
Has lied within the tip of the pencil
That which moves
In many forms.
Syllables that dance around
The atoms of the paper
And rejoice
After every rhyme.
Words can be like birds on wings
Helping chase the stars
But words can also cut like knives
Leaving invisible scars
Words can take the darkest mood
And light it up so bright
I write because I go through hard times
Family and friends are not always there
Most of my problems rhyme
I do not always share
People just look at physical appearance
A little girl built a mighty fortress,Words.
Of complexity and undeniable eloquence,What she hoped to be inside.
The words you use are like a sharp knife
Piercing the flesh of a human life
Maybe this time they'll just take it
or Maybe this time they just won't make it
Wish they would understand their power
Sheila was the biggest girl in fourth grade
With skyscrapers as legs and eagle wings as arms,
She looked down at the rest of us, and liked it that way too.
No one ever told her what to do. Not even Ms. Johnson.
Words that tortureWords that blessWhat shall put my thoughts to rest?
Heart held captiveBy the mindFeelings ever left confined
Words that tortureWords that hauntConsequence of fate unkind
What would words say if they could speak?
Would they tell the story on how they were created? Or like a child they’d answer “I don’t know where I get my name from my mommy named me.” Or do they even know their creator?
The release of words
Oh such a powerful thing
To express such joy or to ease the sting
Of the lives we have lived
Or the of the lives that have gone on to pass
I open my mouth to speak
But the words stick to my throat.
My mind wills me to say something
But my voice is lost in the roar of the crowd.
It is then that I pick up a pen,
There he stands each night,
looking down into the water.
He searches for the lovely girl,
who lives under the waves.
It was there she sunk,
deep into the water.
Poems are different worlds of rhyme,
Of freestyle, meter and syncopated time.
They provide a method of escape - of retreat,
For poems allow simple words to make an entire universe complete.
A dream seems like such a harmless thing
but one day its bound to grow
with a fresh pair of wings
it flies and it flies high
far from reach and far from thought
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.
So these words
messy messy words
get combobbled in my head.
Screwed around with
tossing and turning like
they're on a high seas adventure
of epic porportions.
And some can't hold on
Music
Clashing sounds
Rhythmic beats
All ensuing me
Revolving around my aurora
Till it finally enters my body, euphoria
Causing my internal energies to move, enigma;
Hidden system, rules function like clockwork in my head
Crank, crank, crank: the demands on the system
More work, more power, more output required
You Walk Around With A Gun In Your Hand
So You Assume That Makes You Tha MAN?
You Disrespecting Your Mother So I Know You Respect No Other
But It's Respect That You Demand
Because You're "THE MAN"
Words.
Whether you read them backwards
or read them forwards.
They are still only words.
Racecar. Kayak. Level.
They are still only words.
Whether you say them with meaning
I’m always confined
By others who live merrily outside my cage
I’m alone and in this constant bind
Nothing, but me, myself, I and a page
It’s as blank as my future with nothing to find
in second grade
my librarian wrapped
vines of fingers
to grow over my shoulder
and lead me to
a section designated
for fifth grade and up
glittering titles
I bleed words into emply spaces.
They crawl onto pieces of paper.
They flow in conversation.
They reside on my digital screen.
I bleed words to set me free.
They carry me when no is around.
Unknown to many
words are words
with power
with ink
with pixels.
A single atom
makes our words
an interest
a connection
a meaning.
I write for the art
To live forever is a hopeless dream,
Humans are meant to come and go from here,
Life is not something that you can redeem,
In times of trouble
the river flows beside me
Comforts me, soothes me
Leads me to exicting places
The river carries words
and fits them together
in little crevices by the rocks
Words were spoken of hate,
Whispers of love.
And although we both loved
And hated,
Hate got to us.
We thought we’d be hurt by another.
Today,I am a poet.I can feel the wordsWelling up within me,LIke a smile I have not yet freed.
Sometimes the intensity in my mind overflows
And the pulsing electric eclectic ideas spill onto anywhere it pleases,
Most often paper.
They say it's the gun that we should fear. But listen to this. This gun that I hold, listen to it, it cannot walk, talk, or feel. This gun cannot be held responsible for actions of a hurt heart.
In the sixth grade my eyes were opened.
Poetry became a powerful and wonderful
form of expression.
It seemed to ooze out my brain
like warm, chocolate syrup.
I matured through broadening
Spoken words
At times they are futile
Feeble
Unable to express our thoughts
Our hurts
Our confusion
Our deepest secrets.
And so there they lie, trapped inside
No way of escape
Why do I write?Is it because the wordsstop at the tip of my tongue?Is it because when I try to speak,nothing but a croak emerges?
I will not hold back, even if it's the last thin i do, i will stick to my plans and keep moving on, for I am sweet and caring in the outside world, but I am strong-willed at heart.
Words are windows
From the past to the present,
From the present to the future.
They separate
Those of yesterday from those of today,
Those of today from those of tomorrow,
I’m depressed
which is probably normal for a teenager suppressed from any social life
because I balance eight classes, seven school activities, eating, sleep, procrastination and more sleep.
All the words between the pages
claiming my humble heart,
meek mind,
tattered soul.
My heart, I think, is soon to be
influenced by
swift words,
crafted lines,
touching stories.
Writting isn't just something of a pen on paper, words on a computer screen. Words that are filled with joy, sadness, tragedy and heartbreak. Giving your thoughts out to the world in hope of helping others.
When stress bothers where I lay,
a poem becomes the sweet lullaby that keeps it away.
When I am feeling something that is hard to express,
a poem helps me do my best.
When ideas are hard to put on paper,
Your words are like a pistol going off, releasing violent gestures.
Mind absent of the sense of safety and security, aslo
the well being and feelings of others.
Holy waters of the United States,
Wash away the cherry blood on his hands,
My voice calls out like David's precious lamb,
So lost in the valley of death and hate.
Words swirl inside my head like pillars of light,
I grasp onto the strands and wait:
I wait for them to makes sense,
Incoherent buzzes of truth are all I have.
Rowing, dipping the oars into diction
Words I refrain from dripping
Onto anything but paper—
In case of them sinking.
I'm busy.
But the words are begging to be free.
I'm tired,
But the emotions won't leave me.
I know
I must give vent somehow.
I sit.
The writing begins, now.
They never saw it coming,
there was just the quiet before the storm.
A call was made to their home,
their mother answered the phone.
Then the emotional storm started.
I choose my words because of their freedom
the freedom they fought for
they fought for me.
I, too, am a warrior
my weapons are my words.
They are sharp and shocking, smooth and soothing.
How bizarre is it for one
To sit on their hardwood bedroom floor, black ink bleeding from their pen onto lined college ruled paper?
She never liked words, she never liked reading, and books were her ennui.
You've got my mind working overtime
Stole my heart, you've done the crime
I can't find the words I should say-
Hearing from you brightens my day
Say to voice my feelings for you
All I could do was walk,
And look, and touch, and feel.
Never did a word compare,
The world before my hands.
Is it truly never enough for such a word to be understated?
to question its power and under rate it?
to be sorry is it not enough?
I love to dance.
Smooth, languid, ignoring the lines and boundaries.
I can dance my way into your heart with one flick of my finger, my tiny dancers.
And make you despise me with one more.
They presume themselves great
They see themselves as masters
Twisting words to their design
It doesn't work that way
It sounds hollow to the tormented
And they can't help but question
"Who are you
My words are swift and smooth like a lyricist. Words are a form of expression and emotion. Emotion, in which something that can be felt. Expression, in which something that can be shown.
Please, be my words; I know it sounds absurd
But you got my lips moving
Forming sentences—I’m improving
On finding my voice; to speak on my choice
In this case, it’s you.
It's what they do
For others
To express
To voice
To show
For myself
To be heard
To organize
To find
I write to feel.
And I write to dream.
I send my words,
to the knowledge stream.
Through my words I speak
And through my words I grow.
If I did not write,
you would not know.
Poetry’s the motivation
Poetry’s the conversation
Poetry’s the words that you can’t express
Poetry’s the friend that spills words onto the page
We got Acrostic
Epitaph
Classicism
And Doggerel
A girl with a silent struggle
Words caught in her throat
Carefully blended in
Edges too blurred
Easily missed.
Someone with a name
But a name of no distinction.
“What’s in a name?
Words have power.
They can spark a movement,
fuel a revolution,
inspire an entire nation
to throw off the bonds of oppression.
Words can flatter.
They can simper and sigh
and bat their eyelashes
Why not write a world of art?
With material abound,
One word after another,
This writers speeding thoughts come together.
A few strokes, a big practice.
The life line of communication, business,
Listen to the heart of the bass
The beat of the rhythm
The taste of the lyrics that flows so smoothly through the tunes of nature.
The music that makes my heart dance and my lips sing, sing the song of melody.
Enigmas pulsing through my mind,
Wordless and trapped.
Emotions flicker through my psyche,
Unremitting and unforgiving.
How can I release all I'm feeling
In a deluge that refuses
To be formed with words?
Life is coming at you quick
There is no place to turn
College is upon you
Adult hood is upon you
Life - is upon you
Those days are gone
The days of sitting down at tables
French-fries in hand
She was sixteen when she first started
I've never seen someone so unique and bighearted
The reasoning for her chronic smile was quite effortless
She wrote poetry in a manner so burlesque
I worry that I am not a good writer
and that I am just fooling myself.
And maybe I am,
But I will not be one to leave necessary words unsaid.
To you, they may seem a wicked waste of paper
feelings can be hard to keep hold of sometimes
it's sorta like when i was younger and i'd try to chase the moon from the car's backseat
“Empacó un par de camisas, un sombrero
Su vocación de aventurero, seis consejos, siete fotos
Mil recuerdos”
Our life is Fragile, our life is short
So when life took you I didn't know where to go
I found myself visiting the places we’d been
Reminiscing of the times you stood next to me
The more I remembered the more I cried
Words can be quite powerful things
With all the emotion that they bring
They make descriptions more beautiful
They make your speech more powerful
It all lies in the choice of a word
I have oh-so very many words to say
They build up and swell in my noggin all day.
They churn and tumble about in my head
And pester me long after I've gone to bed.
There are short words,
And l o n g words,
Coal black attacks like razor knives,
And grips and rips your dreams good-bye.
It calls your name—oh countless lives
Have no known clue what myst’ries lie.
I'm not exactly the one to talk.
Ask me to speak and I will stutter.
But it's not just that.
I'm scared.
Give me your pain
every ounce of it
Drop every single drop into my mouth
Let me taste it
swallow it, consume it
When your pain is in me, you are in me
I am you, but you are not me.
The power of words, is awesome to behold.
They build and they break, they furl and they fold.
A simple word, empowers a man,
Or throws his hopes, his dreams in the can.
Such simple devices, such miniscule tools,
If I could put my feelings into words,
I'd speak of things you've never heard.
I know the words would make you believe,
And your mind would require no questioning.
The words would simply capture your heart--
Words are all I've ever wanted to say. Words are all that get in the way. After all who listens, when it's all words than resurrection.
You push him down
you call her names
causing so many frowns
and so much shame
Why do you need
to push and shove
is it from greed?
or a lack of love?
Is this wrong
Or is it right
This word love
It evokes a thunder within my heart
A freezing rush of painful memories
Gliding gently across the lens of sight
Some where it happened in these memories
I stand there,
taking your hateful, tasteless stares.
But I don't dare cringe,
for I fear that would be giving you what you want.
I walk directly into your vile comments,
i am neesey
my friend is freep
stickation to normalicy
thats our motto
ironically witty
thats its translation
to use dictionary words when you can invent some
is a forfeit
My Christ,
lord and savior,
reign down on me.
I just wish everyone could see ya!
And the truth to be seen!
How can I show my God,
when all i do is sin.
Ball my life up in a wad,
There is power in words, more power than we know.
If we knew the damage they caused, would it even show?
Our fists are blunt weapons, but words pierce the heart.
Our bodies heal naturally, but our minds stay torn apart.
(poems go here) I have to put this in as few words as possible, the thinks that I see which are optical, Days are starting to run close together, and the only way I can tell a difference is by the weather, when i wake up I humble myself and bow d
Twenty six letters composing a phrase,
Letters that have the power to break chains,
Whether they exist in books or essays,
Penetrate my heart, running through my veins.
I write poems of anger
Thoughts, frustrations
Joy and fear
As a means of putting out
The words that come and swarm in
My head like bees
Words
Unscrupulous floating isomers
Voluminous connotations
Sewn to fields of intrepid product
Affixed by rindles of ink and lead
Daisy chains of phonemes, morphemes are
Carry the world on their back
When I go meet God,
I'm gonna have to give myself up to you.
Lose my life,
lose my heart,
lose my soul!
I have been dirty
and broken
and don't deserve your love.
So this is my first poem on here.
What is it supposed to be?
Is it supposed to be about me?
Do I show who I am,
As if my clothes are sheer?
Or should I just go grab a beer.
You gave me life,
my first breath taken was yours first.
You loved me before I knew who I was.
You watched over me while I slept,
Letting peaceful dreams take me to a world not my own.
Words are the foundation of language
And language is the means through which we
express ourselves
It can be POSITIVE
It can be NEGATIVE
It can HELP people
It can HURT people
Where were you mom on my first day of school?
Where were you mom when that first A rolled through?
Where were you mom to know your child’s favorite colors?
Other moms know theirs you don’t even bother.
It seems ridiculous to me
Spectacularly arranged
Uniquely designed
Strings of that which is hear laced together in particular patterns, so necessary
A carnal infusion
The Words Hit You Like Endless Bullets.
Face Them Head On, Never Give Way To It.
Heard It Once, Heard It Twice.
The Words They Through Out Are Meant For Your Demise.
A ripple in the distance calls,
Softly falling on this stranger’s ears.
I feel it dripping on my brain already,
Inviting me to drain assumption.
Soon my consciousness is saturated,
Remember
When things weren't so complicated
When words weren't hidden meanings
And we were raw human beings?
When "I love you" meant
I love you
and "I do" meant "I do"
Everyday I walk down these halls terrified
I can feel the stares and read their lips
Calling me anything they can think of
Just to hurt me
My mind fools me
Making me think I'm strong enough to take it
Mechanics
English is not enough
Sentiment cannot be bound by syntax
Punctuation cannot portray passion
Grammar cannot grant the grieving soul grace
Words
Words are a well to a worn world
i remember starting kindergarten and having so much fun but then that fun ended in grade one with a spunk to say your fat and as other kids began to join i remember that i only had one friend in grade four and then none no one to talk to when it
If I could give you anything
Anything, anything at all
I would give you the gift of words
Words spurred from a place deep within you,
Words buried so deep, The word “deep” itself
I hear whispers... Whispers in the wind...
Echoing through my mind... Each time the sound is dimmed...
They have yet to be spoken and never will,
Nor written on paper, with pen,
or
quill
Im tired of misunderstanding and foolish hypocrisy
People thinking this is an autocracy
Where no one sees the right but walks in the wrong
Trying to push forward searching for the place they belong
I like you when you speak
Speaking words from the many universes inside of you
Thoughts dance in your mind and overflow from your mouth
As if they were trying to break free
There are many things I hate,
And this being one,
I hate when the words,
Slip off the tip of my tongue.
Why did they leave?
At exactly the wrong time,
And where are they going?
Those words were mine.
Oh dear precious,
How precious you are and beauty that consists within thee.
Just like a stamp, pressed hard to a piece of paper, leaving the marks identical mirror image, such as you, a mirror image of me.
words words more than a sigh
words words make me cry
the painful memory from all this negativity
They wanted to call us colored
But what did colored mean
To a population with crops dying
Radiation spewing across the sky
Changes from green to dead
And blue to hidden
Think before you speak.
Before you DO, you gotta THINK.
Actions. Consequences. Decisions. Words.
In essence that's all they are. And yet, they're everything.
My mother’s embrace is my home and in her arms I am never alone. People attack me with words, words that pierce my soul like daggers. I am not fierce nor am I bold so I cannot help the tears that pour like rain as I am in pain.
Deceitful words unkempt
By the comb of a human conscience
Mistakenly exempt
From Karma’s omniscient province
Is truth given attempt?
Or are falsehoods your native parlance?
It is all said with silence
Although no words are spoken, a million words are heard
Words of disappointment, shame and failure
Words that ignite discouragement and extinguish pride
Everywhere; Everywhere I would settle
All I could find is beautiful people.
Sparkle of their beauty, sparkles like stars
However, there is one I call treasure.
She shines more than other stars in the galaxy
A word composed of letters
A word composed of syllables
A baby can say a word
A Mom can say a word
A Doctor can say a word
A Lawyer can say a word
But how you say these words matter
Whisper, whisper why so deafening?
Release the earth from its bind
Agony will never find its voice
Blood-stained soil screams your name
Raging against the fate of mankind
Whisper, whisper why so deafening?
Words are so tiresome,
they say many things.
they never get a break or rest,
they put your know how to the test.
