2013 scholarship slam
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I was three the first time i remember
lay on my bed crying until I had nothing left.
Here's what I do remember about this particular rape.
I didn't want to, but I picked the glass up and took a sip.It was horrible and I told my father there was no way I could get this terrible tasting st
One day when I was 13 and in the 8th grade, I had gotten the stomache flu and had to stay home from school.
My father took his trusty knife, wrapped her hands around it and they slit that rabbits throat without a sound.
I started feeling really dizzy and nauseous and was crying so badly, I could barely see nor breath through the tears.
I don't remember what set this next incident off with my father, I just remember it was one of the things that showed me just how much of a psyco nut
hello daddy !
Its so easy to lose the meaning of who you are
I am the voice of the children.
He shines with light a sheep they say
Give me your pain I will put it with mine
A father takes, eyes closed, that which he has no right
It ended tonight,all the happieness has left my soul. it is about time that you all left me alone.
Actor, business man, football player, teacher- dream jobs, dream goals, different forms, different roles, mind and heart, brain and matter to each their own, in my dream i save the world-
I live in a world where passion lies deep and no one is willing to dig. Pass me my shovel piling sweat and tears, I will dig for not only your souls, but mine. I love you, and passion will be restored.
Two hands grew five flared fingers, no longer scared. Fear not lingers in my beating heart, perplexed, Prepared. Bice and fore outstretched and flexed I'm edgy for my start
One job could save my life Make me live or make me die Make me happy or make me cry One job could save my life
Thinking your life is right on track, Then a sharp turn sends you spinning off course Slowly and steadily you move back to where you left off As things get back into place, You decide to take e a short cut.
Excruciating Love Never have I encountered such a plight In which my heart contradicts its morals. Her skin is dun, while mine is fairly light
One job that would change my life is teaching a yoga class
What would you change scholarship slam What would you do? What would you change if you had the chance? What would you make different? Would you be selfish and change things that only benefit you?
I am the inspiration in a writer’s colorful, exotic, painting. I am the warmth in a fuzzy pair of winter mittens. I am the bright segment of colors in a dull room.
Wow, how fast time has gone Wow, how old I have become
It was a job for most They were run down, tired, overworked He was different He spoke to me Made math fun School was hard But Math was fun This one time In middle school
Easy nor Quick. Never Once must I Falter, During The Challange To Obtain Occupational Perfection. The Road Ahead, Found to be Rocky, Yet I must Persevere To Obtain
one job may change my life but what about others? the life I live and the life they live they intertwine if my dream job changes my life how can i change the lives of others
If I don't scream, do I still feel pain? The answer is yes. My pain is real and hides behind walls I do not let it get in my way I stand above it, I show the world that I am stronger
Although you are sound asleep, I lay awake counting sheep. I can't dream of anything better, than picturing you in that ugly cat sweater. Your smile lit up in the dark, you say, hey, I'm Mark.
The curtain closes around a bed of white Beep beep ringing in my ears Bright flashing of fluorescent light As a woman sits there spilling tears Death is unfair and sadly sweet
Words are dominant and strong, yet dainty. Words bring the thoughts and emotions buried deep in a subconsciousness to life and breath.
The thrill chases the chill
Holding on so tightly of everything you know, Only to find that you want to let it go, What happens when all the hate and a taboo Becomes Who you are, What happens when What you love Tears your family apart,
What could it hold? Behind the curtain's fold. Behind every act, every play, there are players and the played behind the velvet, a game of secrets played. What of it? Behind the curtain's fold.
Honestly My dream job is to be spokesperson As a surivor of sexual child abuse I believe I have a lot to say To stand for And to do I did not just survive for myself
I didnt know That you loved me We seemed like best friends Your love I couldnt see Pass that smile Pass that face Everything seemed fine Together in place But then i found out
I don't know what my dream job is, but whatever I do, I want to make a difference. I don't care about earning dollars and cents which I can use to buy a car or a house with a nice, big fence.
I get used to the feelingBut some people don'tThey get what they want so easilyAnd experience no bumpsI knew I wouldn't get itI still know why I tried
While wishing upon a star You stopped to think of who you are A person who has school as the main equation
High School always been a cham Now it's coming to an end College is coming what's done? What's planned? You got to get your head out of the sand. Go out an apply see what you can do
The yearning of comfort leaves me empty and alone; thirsting emotion and unique love. As does waiting for that first intimate moment shared in a kiss; the simple, yet monumental knighting of womanhood in America.
Scribble. Scribble. Line. Loop the "L", rewrite. Make it neater. More Scribble. Pause. Reread. Does it work? Does the emotion work? Does it clearly represent the charachter?
There's so much to be done To this planet of ours The pain and the hurt Suffering as hot as Mars The beauty that surrounds us Now covered in gunk Slimed over by humanity
I am not an artist. I am not an athlete. I don’t have a way with words. To some I am a literary architect. To others a tortured soul. But to those few who know me, a regular teenager.
In the darkness you will find my heart, or what is left after i fall apart. it's only natural to fall off the edge once more it's happened everytime before. In the daylight you find my soul
I never thought having your own opinions about life could be thought of by others as a bad thing. That was until athiest, vegetarian, and gay marriage supporter became very important defining factors that describe me, and the way I feel a
Is it too much for me to ask of you? Do you even understand? Why do you keep doing this? Can you just listen to me? For once? It's getting harder and harder, to even try.
Blue skies after a storm blows away; blue eyes trying to keep the tears at bay. You’re all on your own, a burden to those around you. They push you down, and you can never pull yourself back up.
The late night half lit incandescent bulbs when sleep is synonymous with the detestable scum scraped off the shoe laying on the floor mate under the bed The smell of dust and cotton
I yell to the stars but only the clouds hear me I stomp my feet but the ants dont fear me I cry but no tears fall I reach out for help but noones there Crying out help but the people just stare
Money doesn't grow on trees. On the people I know The people I see. Do you have a degree? Does that matter? Connections lead to success. Does that mean to be a kiss ass?
Everyone watches but no one sees. what is happening to me? Something sits on my chest but I see nothing there. Why can't I breath? It comes from nowhere. The shadow grows in my eyes.
I started from nothing.
When I was younger And the stars seemed far away I used to revel in the gold encrusted words Of my parents I used to hang from their vowels And dangle from their consonants
J. O. B. Is it work or is it something free? Is it something I do or something i can be? The Job that will change my life is something free. When i mean free I dont mean pricewise
Invisible Children By: Jordyn Milbrath
I will not be defined by what size I wear I am not fat I am thick
I’ve realized something about myself, I’ve realized fear…… I swim because I’m afraid to drown, Climb the tallest mountains because I’m afraid of the height, Skydive because I’m afraid of the fall,
According to the world wide web science is defined as the study of the natural world based on facts learned through experiments and observations.
I have walked 17 miles as of now Pretty soon I will reach 18 miles Along my walk, I have met lots of people Learned valuable knowledge Seen many wonders Where I walked was guided by my elders
Driving down a road Scanning every detail. Maybe we'll spot a toad or even something with a tail. We'll hike through the forest or find ourselves in the Amazon. Unable to rest,
I feel as though nothing I do will ever be good enough. That I will always live in the shadow of what has already been done. I just can't be who they want me to be,
This is it, What I have been preparing for, The dream I held onto when thoughts of being an astronaut or a princess were lost somewhere in a seven year olds mind. I have been working for this my entire life,
My dearest poet, do not study for hours another's poetryfor you will hinder your wordsRich painter, do not gaze in a fellow's perspectivefor you will stifle your perception
Once upon a dream She lived Lavishly, Where happiness felt clean To the soul of purity Invited all in unity They laughed endlessly Enjoying the offering of peace In eternal divinity
I'm pouring out the water. Holy from the tap. But they want a sweeter version.
Wish we could go back to the good ole days Layin' back thinkin' how to make you smile in the best ways But you can't get pass the pain I put you through If only you could see I changed and believe its true
The sight of letters on a page, makes me cringe and want to escape. Even though we are often told, that writing comes from the soul.
Everyday I a clumsily wake up and see, what a great and wonderful world exists around me.
She sits on rooftops, like a bat in the trees Patient for them to close their eyes So she can take all that they have Only watched by the pale moonlight No remorse is felt
Young and rebellious, with a heart of gold, and a mind of curiosity, Experimenting at every corner, always trying new things, so adventurous, After that one time, that first time, Everything changed…forever.
Forbidden crystals And possibilities within Soaring through the questions Revealing secrets to wanderers Unknown colors and shapes Where paradise awaits Adventures unfolding
My first appointment of the day Is little boy Tommy who is always scared. All I want to do is help educate him. Hopefully he comes in prepared. She is going to think I'm lazy
Walking the dreams of something that will never come true
What is life if its not what you do? Jobs here, jobs there just stacking up like entires of a resume, but none defines me but what if? instead of saying: "I work at.." I say "I am"
In the hallways of my school, some girls think they're cool, while the guys only drool. They cough and they scoff, but I want them to back off. I hide my feelings
If there's one thing in this world that can bring true happiness it would be showing and telling and helping others toward true greatness. To educate and build
I want to be a star, a movie star. The main attraction of my film.
My life would change in a flash Simple as someone turning on a monitor Then the CPU Waiting for it to boot up Going into the archives Then, finally Adding a new profile
As a child we grow up knowing exactly what we want to be when we actully grow up A fire fighter is what I wanted to be The red lights and water is what excited me But the tragedy of 9/11 also frighten me
A color Changes the whole game. An accident Causes a beautiful "new world order".
I am not complaning, but I live life in struggle Every corner that I turn, missing pieces to my puzzle Since bullying exist, l've lived life in a bubble. I wasnt affiliated with it, I never really got in trouble.
I want to be unknown. I want to be quiet, I want to be sheltered.
Why do we wear Masks? They are used to hide your self Help me take mine off.
I need a job that could change whole life And maybe then will shit start going right I wouldn't have to be worried about my moms Or my sisters and brothers crying about the lights going off The water and the cable
Tangle me in the bleeding, throbbing, messy knot of emotion Command me to help, to aide, to care And you will see a machine unable to process a garbled voice command The Mind barking orders to the comatose heart
There's a road in the meadow parting it left and right a side where the sun rises and the other for the moon at night and now I have to choose the side I belong to
I've seen the pain of a thousand lies tearing through your soul I've seen the bruises of anger beaten down upon your pliable flesh Furious fists flying, pushing, swinging, never ending, never stopping
Thunderous applauseA steady, continuous chanting of my nameThat's what I live forThis is what I want
My memory is flimsy, weak to the remembrance but… Never forgotten are the sentiments that cause my heart to cry Savory veracity Appeal to my palette
Eyes closed … Breathing deep,
My yellow brick road is outlined
"How are we feeling today?" "How much have you eaten?" "Let's check your weight." "Have you ever hurt yourself?" "Are you hearing things?" "Are you seeing things?" An interrogation
Brian Guex Greater purpose then myself One job to change mine and others life To preach to the adults of tomorrow greater meaning Something that does not require a knife
I wanna act like you're gonna understand what I'm trying to say and relate But truth is empathy seems to be dying, wasting, and endangered We're all facing different demons No one to go to
My name is Aubree, I love the wide open sea. Dream job in the Mob, Naw, I’m too lazy. I wana be a dancer. Type that fight cancer? Grammy died of it
Growing up with a cough, I seep into a world near the pain of death. Now I have grown to happily be with others, though, With this timeless scar, I shall bring to a standpoint the climax of human prosperity.
When I was supposed to be young and carefree, my friends fell in love too many times and fell asleep to nursery rhymes. But not me. I grew up fast and realized that life isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.
I Wish We all have certain things we wish, Certain things we wish to switch.
The natural foliage creeping down the counter, Draping over the polished tanned walls. Reflecting ergonomic finesse, Cleanly tracing the muscular lining, Of a fresh carcass.
The screaming and crying. The tears and fears. The cold hospital hallways seem so long. Children sticking close to whom they belong. "Its ok" I will tell them,
Mahmoud A true story My mother and I stood in the Afghan refugee camp Solemnly and nervous, I stared as they stared back "This is where I came from," she said to me
Question, helps me see the problems that lie ahead, research, shows me the information on what is to come, hypothesis, gives me hope for what there may be, experiment,
We all have a goal in life, Become a ballerina, baseball player, or be in the circus. My dream is to become a National Geographic photographer.
I want to touch the soul, with words that sounds like gold. I want to hold the world's feelings in the words of my notes. I want to behold the power to have my written word uncontrolled.
I’m lost. I know that much.
Doors on either side, Endless forward and backward. I need to decide which door to go toward. I know what I desire, But what door it's behind is a gamble. Knowing which one is impossible,
Michelle Guex My One Dream Job The lights shine down on me I might not be as famous as Whoopi
I've got six sources of dreaming, clear The words all tumble bright, and fear Is choking cloaking, smogging roping Round my throat and twixt my ears. What am I doing here? I'm learning phonetics,
Dream Job? How about a dream feeling?
1. While watching a documentary in class I heard the term American-Japanese war in an interview over B-roll of the bombing of Hiroshima
Some said to pick a job One that made lots of money Others said to follow your dreams Even if it won't make millions I wanted it all, I did A nice house and car, A husband, a family
Never want to sit down Wild and freeThis is how it needs to be Please dont cry
Close eyes, see your dreams Close mind, feel our beams Hover night, why it is so long One shake, one shiver The night, will be cold Inisght, none will be seen Tickle Tickle Tickle
In a new studio
Walking down the street I see them Picking up the trash off the street Without them I wouldn't have somewhere to walk Without them, my life would change Walking into school I see them
The type of job which would change my life is becoming a famous author. The way becoming a famous singer would change my life is everything I did the public would know about. I wouldn't really have a free moment to myself.
“You can be anything you want to be—a doctor or a lawyer.”My father was a math man, a mad man; definitely not a family man.I was a dreamer, an idealist; a girl tormented with wanderlust and impatience.
One job may change a life So, shoot for the stars What do you have to miss out on? You'll never know what could be Until you decide what it will be
When I was young I wanted to become a chef but that thought changed ever since i knew death I realized I wanted to help people so I aimed to become a nurse knowing that I would have to study everyday like a curse
His hands are long and spindly;
All my life, it's been You point the way, I'll get us there. I'll struggle through, and reach the goal. I can overcome any obstacle, but don't know where to start. Today, I take the wheel.
ONE JOB. . . One hope, One ambition. Is what we are made to choose, during our high school days. Before we are 18, and can legally smoke. Before we are 21,
I am a flower in the desert, holding out for the rain. The sun has been hot and taunting, mocking my goals and my name.
What is my dream job? Some may call it outlandish and immature Others say it is stupid and naive But I want to be a famous musician Lights shining on me While people stare and see
This war Is about blood, tears, and death This war Sees a little child heave a last breath But there are no guns, no bombs No battlefields that we can see For the war rages forever on
Every day From seven o' clock to three o' clock Was hell without exception I dreaded those long hours that seemed to stop time Watching the hands move in slow motion Because I felt it was without purpose
13 years in a public prison, 4 years of undergrad studies, 4 more years of medical school; Countless hours studying, Procrastinating, Working; Countless dollars towards fees-
“Miss, may I show you to your suite”
One Journey, one road, one story? No. Exploring, doing more, and expressing my inner joy is my future job.
Accounting will change my life My favorite job Lots of money I would make.
They say that hatred is a fireThat eats at your insidesAnd it isAlong with jealousy and ambitionAt times it seems I carry all of theseBut I've learned to push down my angerTo be content with what I have
The job of a poet Is what I seek But it doesn’t feel possible Hoping for just a peek A glimpse of what this job entails As I stumble back and forth Back and forth We attempt to push and pull
In these days we all have a dream Sleeping, working, or eating ice cream Even I have one, and that's a job Most people would doubt my wish But nonetheless I will accomplish
Those gifted hands, Bathing in antimicrobial soap and water, Clothed in radiant latex sterile surgical gloves.
Wow how crazy ..I am at this place again of choosing ..seems pretty difficult ..theres so many choices out there...what's the best?...well in my eyes ...to complete a job is to help others and what better way to do this....then share life...you s
To change the world That's what I'll do One letter at a time One word One stanza One very long novel One writing at a time To change the world That's what I'll do
To change someone's life There a million ways it can be done But I think of mainly one To be a therapist I would heal the soul And I would receive constant self-achievement from this goal
I searched long and hard, Looking for a job that could help me on my way, The one that accepted me was long and hard, It made me want to look for another and possibly take it easy,
I entertain the thought of future and sit for what seems days in meditation Over what I could achieve, mind occupied with occupations, And tend not to dwell on the confinement of dreams strictly to my dreams,
The piano sits in the living room begging me to play an endless tune. But my mind inside me booms saying "why doubt so soon? Music isn't that great, remember Math is what pays,
There's no money in music, I know, that's a dead end career. I can see you as a wonderful biomedical engineer, dear, from every mother and teacher and father and neighbor. Stop making all that noise, they say,
Since we were born, we are asked one thing, When you are grown, what will you be?
To be an Opera Dramaturge Opera Not to sing but to hear To breath and surrender To understand To be confused Dramaturge Not to act but to read The libretto
Imagine how the world could be Something or someone can make a change A positive force leads to a possibility Smiles are the reaction The Job for me would to help others
The path to success is paved with commitment and desire,
What is a teacher? Someone who can change the world. Not to become a preacher, but to alow those bound to break the mold. Confusion is ripe in society. Education can wipe the messy window clean.
"All the World's a Stage," And we're just actors, right? But it takes more than actors To bring a show to life. I was a little starlet Born to sing and dance; Born to thrill the audience
The world is full of peculiar things. Sights which only the utmost curiousity can bring. Beauty all around us seems so sing, Be who you are and you will see. Do what you want, because what you want to be
I used to dream about working in the theatre drowning in the adrenaline rush from performing, from making people happy. But I learned that is not for me. I still need, though,
Vivid lights beam down from a ceiling housing thousands of cheering fans. Cheekbones corrupted with smiles give way, some hidden by active hands. A beating heart within, so eager to emerge from the cage that condemns it so
The ability to touch the sky Fly with the birds the angels A dream of all the flight To fly one must innovate improve Try Try Try Until at last takeoff is achieved
I dreamed of being a super hero To have my name in the headlines every day Reality crushed my dreams when I was just seven I had to accept that I was never going to wake up with super powers
I know this won't be easy,
I live my life And I dream And I hope And I whisper my secrets to the sky Because nobody is there to listen And when I'm alone I wait And I hope to God That someday I will not be
Why a doctor? Why not a contractor? Why not a sports caster? Why not a rocker? Because... I don't really know. I like to learn about so many things, about animals with feet, fins, or wings.
On this road I pursue a job,
Change Change yourself, Change your environment, Change your world. Change the world. Man, We are all one. All the same, equal Every one of us
Softball; I sprain my ankle. Sit out for the rest of the season. I was depressed and hopeless. However, being injured caused me to go to physical therepy. There I encountered my dream job.
Oh darling how beautiful you looked with your eyes of burning lights and elusive hope. With your slight beckoning the hearts of men poured to do your bidding and you bind them with chains of industry
Pacing around in delicate circles, tracing the words that encompass the fire The inextinguishable flame that ignites the one desire driving me mad A beautiful and unforgivable dream
Through the eyes of a dreamer Nothing can stand in my way Soaring high over mountains and oceans My own little airplane cradling me in the sky If only I weren’t afraid of heights
They tell me I am not supposed to be here
"Does the wind still rise?" stories told won't be forgotten kids running and the sun setting tell me these don't mean something can i tell you a story that you will clutch and carry and never let go
Black ink flows on a page transcribing ideas, thoughts; so very lovely. The poet sits, his hands clenched in rage for he has forgotten his own story.
Early in life I've learned Life has never been about what changes my life It is what changes others' lives. That one job that would change my life? It would be to see that spark--
I sat on the floor just gasping for air It seemed there was none to be found The pain was intense but I didn't care I stayed in a ball on the ground Next thing I knew it was hospital gowns
This is how my story could read, If I could help victoms families in need. Becoming a medical examiner would be a hardship and put me in debt, But there is no challenge that I have not met.
I take a seat behind my desk what do people see? this job is not an easy task but it means so much to me they tell me psychiatrists are crazy they only seek to find themselves
What is it to hope, to dream, to wish In a place where nothing works, To want to try to fix A hole with little corks. That, I think is the problem, A glass that is full of holes
A child weeps, but from what direction? The little boy with the clammy hands wipes his nose On the shoulder of his mother’s satin blouse. They wait to be called in. Truly, just as a child weeps
To speak is a gift, that not all recieve My voice is a tool, to help those in need Inside they are speaking, please set them free The voices they need, reside in me In their eyes there are words
Hello world, Have we met yet? No? Are you sure? I could have sworn I was that veterinarian from that one time
I want to become empowered I want to control what I can
As I wash the dishes I have many wishes Ever Since I started working here My thoughts have started to veer People walk in and out Some are loud and shout They leave their dishes on the table
Somewhere along the bits and bytes of the programming world,
My life has been changed, and now it is up to me to choose a job to change a person’s too. I dream of social work, counseling, and motivational speaking. In the jobs I desire all will be complete if I save one life like she.
I was pushed in school To decide my fate I was pushed by my parents To get the best grades I was pushed by society To live up to everyone's expectations And yet I stay sane
One Job One simple task Taking what you learn Giving it back to others Fire spreads and shares its light Everyone carries a torch, lit or unlit
I'm a Math Geek, sure. I've got charisma, too much! Combine them, It's me!
I'm weak in the flesh.Though my spirit is so willing Jesus!Sanctify me, this total depravity.
Deep within each human There is a drive, a need Different fires burn for every man All expressed within a seed A seed that grows with every season
Career oriented Push me into typicality Told myths of the straight and narrow path Lined on either side by treacherous cliff side Jagged with lost hope and drug addiction, Probably.
Pediatric oncology might be the job, That will show me what it is like to make a difference, Maybe not to the world, but to a few children, Who because of fate ended up in a bad state.
Life is like a burning candle soon we will burn away slowly but surely we are not here to stay we were made to be a light and warmth but not to last forever just because we a fading
Oh my goodness this gun weighs a ton Too much weight gave me a strain; I wonder why I have this gun At last, we have the enemy on the run
Frighting for you Fighting for my loved ones Fighting to keep the sky blue Fighting for those late night runs Fighting for those happy days Fighting for the you to live
I want to work in hospitals, universities, industries, and laboratories. A blend of engineering, biology, and medicine, I’ll have many possibilities and through all of my duties
A dream. A blissful careening feeling, abstract and fickle. My job will be a dream.
Mom and Dad want me to evaluate the broken, To diagnose them with the disease we all have- surreal survival,
Sitting here 2 years after I still feel empty without your laughter, We werent ready, we were just kids, But if i could go back, id want you to live You deserved life, and all that this world has in store
One Job May Change My Life Fighting for the justice of innocent civilians Becoming someones "hero"
Beyond a dream on a stage it isn't about me it isn't about fans, fame, fortune or other words thrown around by those who have too much and give nothing
I stare at my wrists Blood dripping red Trying to drive the demons from my head Do I jump Do I stand On edge waiting With a blade in my hand I want to live
I stare at my wrists Blood dripping red Trying to drive the demons from my head Do I jump Do I stand On edge waiting With a blade in my hand I want to live
With just a little change, our society could thrive if we used our full potential, possibilites reach the sky the potential we all have, but seem to throw away could be the difference in, living a different way
Dreams will be dreams no matter what people seem to say. We all live everyday by the dreams we continue to replay. Why instead of dream don't we make these actions come true?
What would I change? I would change the world. I would give everyone a pair of socks Because nobody needs to get cold feet. I would make everyone a blanket fort To keep warm their hearts.
So much time has past since freshmen year, We've found ourselves and who we are, Maybe we can leave this place with some cheer, But we will leave with much, much fear. Things always change left and right,
If I were Almighty, A Universal Clockmaker, A Divine Puppet Master, Pulling the stings of the world behind the scenes,
It's a look It's a touch It's a threat It's a plea ignored It's a silent scream
Trotting daringly through the meadows of flowers I feel the pulse beneath my feet Frolicking with the whisp of the wind I hear it stirring Bringing me closer and closer until suddenly I kneel
Find YOURSELF Place a foundation of POSITIVITY Add a abundance of
i admire the crayons for no matter how you push or how hard the pressure they'll pick themselves up and cling to their other i admire the crayons for when in times of stress they melt together
One dream for my future, To take care and nurture,
Twelve Dear Mr. and Mrs. Anonymous, Who knew you could ever live in a world so perfect. I mean cruel.
This is their place, the place they freely roam; This is their place, the place they call, “Home”.
It is said that repeating the same task over and expecting different results is the definiton of crazy. But if one repeats the same task over from preschool to college expecting success, would they define us as crazy too?
She grabs a magazine and looks inside All these "perfect women" fill the contents A false reality seen with her eyes Comparing herself to literal nonsense The flawless faces photoshopped to perfection
Never does the swinging stop Always back and forth Left to right I’m treading for my life now, Believe me.
Changing the world is an impossible thing,
Standing with knowledge roots connected to the world graceful protectors
She works harder than ten men combine Working night and day till her knees break and hands swell Living in a cardboard box with only the clothes on her back
As I aged It faded fast Although I wished It would last One foot forward One foot back Now memories are Of the past Piano, Forte Fast, Slow What I did was stop Instead of go
I had none.
He wakes up and rolls over Sees the love of his life And he loves him just the same As a husband loves his wife. Been together for ten years Yet no ring on his finger Because America the Brave
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”
Tears are the cure to sadness,
The artist’s heart Is a place of worry;
The smoke lighting up the distance Danced from the corner of the room Soft, warm, deathly. In this moment the harsh darkness Does not matter. Sinking into the seat as the light Caresses the shadow.
As one piece of iron sharpens another, we need to keep each other sharp. We need to encourage each other. An enemy might be able to defeat one of us, but not when the two of us stand back-to-back to defend each other.
It’s when autumn in its final throes surrenders and one morning you draw in a peculiar breath thick with frigid air that you realize the winter’s made its presence.
I sit motionlessly, watching the bright rays of light dim over the horizon. I can hear the soothing sound of the waves striking the rocks, and the wet footprints running across the sand.
Can you hear me? I'm Singing I'm Shouting I'm Whispering Can you see me? I'm Standing I'm Spinning I'm Hiding Can you feel me? I'm Far
The only place where its not normal to be normal. humanity, humans, homo sapiens; we are so amazingly peculiar, different, the same. We are truly Simplicity at its finest; Long dense answers to a question that has never been asked. I exist?
She gave me colours of the rainbow Yellow, Red, Pink Blue, Black, Purple All hidden so no eye can see She gave me words of the wise Honour, Pride, Discipline Shame, Punishment, Pain
Breathing in that familiar smell of sweet co
They say write to my hearts consent, or to my thoughts represent, a image or a goal, or till I host a flag on a pole, by which am I writing because it is written, or am I writing because I am different, I see myself as my world but I'm on one, an
all alone in the midde of the ocean the moon pulls upon the sea without a choice the tide rises... but alas, the moon is a million miles away i cant hold you in my arms so i turn my face
Though you may not think of me as your family, I will always think of you as mine. Though you may never think of me as your loving little sister, I will always think of you as my older sister.
From Genesis to Revelation He’s held me at high elevation. From listening to the Word and going to church I’ve read my Bible and did my research.
God is my strength to him I belong. He will never leave me nor forsake me, Therefore I will never be alone. He will always be there, just call on his name
The ruler of universal pain and pleasure, you are I whimper with dread because you'd never understand I fear mediocrity of this poem But it must be said, in order for me to do But life exists without you
I try and I try,
Dear teacher, Must you assign so much work?
A masterpiece was promised, A carving out of words, To stand, eloquent, elegant Child of talent, effort, ripped-up sheets, The first of many, Essay-sculpture, And I, Author-carver.
So I have a secret Every time you open your mouth And you twist a boring book into a dreamy drama Or a magical memoir Or a fascinating piece of fiction I feel a radiant romance form.
Glaring Teeth clenching Anger simmering I snap I scream I cannot hear myself think Am I really that loud?
Well the first thing we do isn’t expose our feelings to our teachersI had this bottled up for some timeSo I was so excited about coming to collegeThe 2 months period of anticipation took all my previous knowledge
African Americans are ignorantAsians are brilliantWhites are smartThose are all stereotypes that you are led to believe to keep you from what you are trying to achieve or succeed atI am African American
Why the fuck are you so loud?Why the fuck are you so loud?!!Its 8 in the fucking morningYou’re boring and you're loudNow what the fuck are you talking aboutI sat over here with an attitude long enough
The way you speak to us you see, It’s just not how it should be, You get to raise and scream at us, Then you get surprised when we get up and cuss?
Now don't get me wrong with the lesson i'm about to teach Education is good, Education is the water to our seed but whats wrong is the times between you and i being "educated" the pain that stings so deep
I used to look down a lot My head full of melancholic thoughts And myself so weighed down I could not stand up. In fact I was falling, deeper and deeper into a depression
You were built for great things You were built for the future But these halls move like molasses And these faces look like ghosts And my mind falters And I bend And I break
Free Free country, they say. But really? To conform To think the same To act the same Based on a "correct system"... But really? Where's the freedom To be an individual?
i wanna be free, like in the books that i read, let my words mean more tha
The school bell rings, I'm late for class at this rate, I'll never pass. College essays, school ones too, every day, a new one's due. What will I do? I do not know. A real good college, I must go.
Going through the motions, never to know Time is passing in an endless loop The pattern is broken only by the last stroke The time has come, the last bell rung A lugubrious gathering, the show of an end
Write they tell us, Show us who you are. Give us your soul in a story they say I’ll grade it and judge all your scars. Thousands of students with their
The guitar I play so passionately
Fulfilling My Dream Hello my name is Mozlefa,
I am sorry. I am so sorry. The smiling child you once knew is no more. Star light eyes( eyes that light the future)have been extinguished.
Round and colorful, they play with me I blow them little, big, they are funny They dance in a big open space Some like to pop in my face Until all that's left are three
Freedom comes with each word that pours out of the speakers Every step I take and move I make Grace is wrapped around my arms and legs While my mind is at rest and my body performs.
I had a friend, whose name was Sam Sam was always smiling He went driving one day, and then BAM! The car was flying, flipping, and rolling Sam had received a text on his phone
To whom it may concern, I learned that in the fourth grade–
You say we can come to you when needed We need you to listen when you’re called But you won’t be there when we’re crying You’re not there for us at all.
My heart made me loose it all. They said they loved me, But it was all a lie. They told me to follow my heart,
Que Arte! Bright colors fly Men and women sing Twirling and spinning Has always been my thing. It began when I was five I watched my mother prance And began to ponder deeply,
#YOWO And I loved a girl with pain etched into her lips and death written along her soul. Art poured from her fingertips and poetry was carved into
I’ve known I was a boy since I was three years old It’s not only something I know It’s something I feel deep into the crevasses of my soul Most people don’t think twice of it
The hearts of youth are unlike others They are in existence for a time in which they chose, And incomparable to the time in which our old age is recognized. We feel as though youth is a treasure which is stolen easily,
I hop into a world, Colors and images dart by as I race Through page by page. Words that ebb and flow, Pulling and pushing me in A midnight rolling tide. A simple book,
My heart is slowly beating
Dear Elementary School teachers, It has been years since we have spoken Since you let me slip away into the system Forgot me, and my talents Ignored what I couldn’t do. Well I am no longer that kid,
Senior Year, Oh how I cheer!
Baby sister! Who I love you, and inevitably abore. You give me the strength, to go out and explore, To face challenges that are harder for the adverage man, So here we go, Heres the plan,
The classroom is my dungeon Cold, stark, and bleak. The desk is my cage Restraining my mind’s reach. I’m drawn away from creativity Herded by the group Who are too slow to move on
What do you want from me? Am I not good enough? Am I a dissapointment? A mess that needs to be cleaned up?
You'd never guess how far you'd go To gain a freedom you've never known. All it takes is that right preson, the right way To help you get through another day. Don't let them tell you that there's no truth
I saw a little girl sitting on a bench Crying because she was hurt. No visible scars but on the inside She felt like she had no worth. She felt she was different, bore an ugly visage
War.War within myself,War surrounds me.Inside I'm freedom,but self-made bonds are magnetizing me.
Today I look back on what my life once was. The pain and heart break I endeavored.
I blink as the warmth enters my eyes
I am NOT stupid. If you hand me a song! I can submerge myself within the lyrics and become one with the melody. BUT I have to create a thesis statement. I'm trying to understand. My mind is blank. Cold.
The bell r
There was constant sobbing That could not be held in any longer They sat on their bed looking at their body They knew that they were not worth the effort They didn't want to belong on this planet
Arithmetic. Scientific notation. MLA format. Teach me about compassion.
Every sparrow gets the chance to singA lively song, befitting each new voiceSo may the happy birdwatchers rejoiceFor every little sparrow loves the spring
Every sparrow gets the chance to singA lively song, befitting each new voiceSo may the happy birdwatchers rejoiceFor every little sparrow loves the spring
Love is Strong Love is Powerful Love is Free Yet is it judged Not being able to love whom we want for who we are But at the end Love will always concure those who judges
Dear Mr… Why is it that every time you speak I listen but I don’t understand? Is it because our class period is the first, very early in the morning?
It is harder today, I must tell you Than school in nineteen-eighty-three So please take a seat here and listen I'm not just a number, I'm me The hallways are sardined with bodies
young talented artist you drew with a kind of passion a kind of originality & beauty that no one ever had you took me in to your world without even speaking just drawing
Knowledge is Knowledge is a mosic Colorful and broken Pieced together slowy Knowledge is everything And nothing at all
Comment me like a facebook post Label me like a hashtag Post me up like an innstagram Pic You do not see the Pain Struggle Or ME Its funny Its sad It hurts
High school is full of motions and emotions. Television is missing the actual high school promotion. Waving at someone then shaking your head when they leave.
I'm killing myself, I know. Each time the knife hits my skin. The teachers don't care, The students just stare. The nurse just told me to pray. They send me away, To not deal with my shit,
One cannot fathom the absence of thought. Ambition & glory in cardboard hue, All that you’ve done has been done for naught. Paint twined elegant by stroke & by blot—
To the teacher who supervised study: Remember the girl who was my best friend, The girl who sits in front of me… She called me Bitch in front of everybody today
I get up at six in the morning, to hear you go on and on, about shit that makes me start snoring. When the whole class fails a test you blame us, because teacher knows best.
She talks to me Talks to us Like we're brats She walks in with an air of snobiness and speak with thinly veiled vanity The first time we met The first time she met us
You made who I am today and for that I hate you You made me see what others couldn’t dream You made me think I was nothing You made me sell coke every night
You can tell she has a heart of gold. Outside it appears to be the opposite. She refuses to rise above the struggle. She refuses to take help from anyone. It hurts me to see her stay stagnant,
I am ambitious curious and passionate I want to keep learning anew The teachers are unhopeful schoolwork is hectic Already prepared for what each school year brings
Choking on words In a rather fantastic way. My tongue holds them back As my throat tries to gurgle them out While my head spins the words around. Repeatedly, Incessantly, But to speak ones fears
I came to school to learn about life, Instead you give me a worksheet, And get your easy paycheck.
Hit the road hard and fast all i wanna do is drive fast you know me well you think ill fail and come running back to you you want to see me fail , to be there to tell me you were right and i was wrong
Life is like the music that takes you away Your body moves at the sound of a drum The steps that you take leads the way Every leap and twirl that's where the determation lay
Since when does my sexuality effect Your well being, Your family, Your life. Since when does anyone's sexuality effect Your well being, Your family, Your life. It's a matter of fact
Lost hand, reaching into the darkness But left to drown in loneliness. Searching for another to latch on to, Hoping and praying for someone to come through. They walk past in disgust
I dont know how to write a check, But thankfully I can graph a palabara. I dont know how to cook a family meal, But I know how many protons an Iron atom has. I can't decide which price is better,
The fields of war, we all cry, Let’s take a moment and take a big sigh. This isn’t what life should be! Let’s just get along, you and me. Let’s have the peace fly! War is nothing but a sad, sad lie,
You strut in front of class. You , a bloated peacock Ranting, raving, screaming, yelling. You make your own rules , by which we must obide
My dearest teacher, your class is so boring Even my foot is now snoring Obviously you dont how to have fun Sitting in our desk all day, come on we're still young When im in your class im always tired
The strokes of life burn within my paper Seeping through the lines Creating a sunder for the reaper Those creases in your brow
She'd love to say she's confident but she's not. "Hey you're smart!" She doesn't get that alot. She wants to say she's powerful, but she wont. She thinks she's beautiful, but no one else thinks so.
Catholic High. Yes, Catholic High. That our school. Yes, you and I. We stand for religion and christianity. But instead, to seems like a mockery. Our reputation is so bad and low,
Hero Wearing dog tags Bravely fighting Protecting the red white and blue Soldier
A bad teacher is negatively pessimisticA good teacher is positively optimistic A bad teacher swears all the timeA good teacher cares in their prime
?Why Why is it so hard to understand? This isn’t the easiest subject for all of us. When someone comes to you for help,
I’m not falling behind, I’m starting behind. My mommy and daddy are not like theirs. No bedtime stories with silly questions “What color is the ball?” “What did the dog say?”
walk through halls but utter silence inside my mind a blur of noise outside 'everyone will find a place' 'high school is a better place' but I miss the days of being free
I put my head on my hands, you yell stay awake, I haven't slept in three whole days, it's harder than you think. I try to focus, I try real hard, But there's more to me than you can see, this is harder than you think.
Water attracted to water, becoming more and more itself until the sky herself cannot hold the forces away. The culmination of these events can lead us to a rather beautiful metaphor. For the self is attracted to the self.
Man school's a drag Let's all go take nap, Pick up those pencils and pens It's time to go learn in my class. Teachers expect to much of us kids We just want to hangout and shoot the shit,
Teachers Why don’t you stop lecturing And listen for a change Maybe pay attention to the kids in the back row Who might have some scars to show And goes home to cut and feel low
I've sat in class. I've sat there and wondered. Wondered if you even cared. Cared for what you are molding. Molding these students, these numbers. Numbers that identify us from one another.
Hey Teacher, I really hate this class, and this seat hurts my ass. It really isn't misleading, You know no one did the summer reading. Why did you pick our partners? I wish you gave me someone smarter.
We are always learning, improving, developing Evolving into something greater than we were Becoming something better than the world has ever seen Education is the means by which this takes place
Struggling to be unique, Then in return I get critiqued, Thinking outside the box. But limited as the clock ticktocks. Trying to discover a better way, But your emotion is truly grey.
This is too much work. My mind is overloaded. The stress makes me cry.
if i could have a starry night, i would. if i could have a chance to breath the misty air, i would. if i could dance along the darken path, i would. the stars are my light and the fireflies are my guide.
Condescending eyes shallowed by the slow hands stabbing at dragging hours stare intently at the dark scratches upon a once pure surface. They tire not of passing judgement upon those "lesser" to them,
Teacher how come you don't push all students there's only a few you do? Teacher how come your eyes are only on the students in the front, but not on the students in the back?
Yeah, I appreciate what you do. Thank you for spending a little extra time looking over my essay with me after school. I know its a long ride home for you and I know you don't get paid for the overtime.
She is lost.. Lost among the days of old, banned from the days of new.. Like a wanderer in a maze..
Size 0..next..1..next.. 2..next..3 ..next.. 4..5.. wait wheres the rest?
Stuck in this room like it's a jail.Trapped like prisoners My hands are tied grasping the rail. We aren't petitioners. "Sometimes I always ask myself why.Was it after all worth it?
Frustration, exasperation, Total damnation Why can’t I seem to be of any use? I'm trapped inside my own walls Unknown to all, I continue to fall In my own pit of despair This just isn’t fair
A warming smile, an enchanting laugh. A crumbling sensation within the realms of my soul. He was the stars that lit up my body, yet the un-denying darkness that consumed my heart.
Futile attempts being made ignoring all warnings that have been said, this poor human starts his race, haunted by the shadow'd face.
I close my eyes, and understand, The only way a child can, To be beaten down with soap, and socks, I beg forgiveness, the paradox.
All they do is teach us what they think we need to know They never get the chance to know us We all have our stories of where we've been and where we are going Drug addicts Soon to be parents Couples fighting
English 101 and Me By Sarah DeWeese A poem you ask, about me? For English 101 you see. Well --- I am quiet, I am shy, kind, but sure.
Backpack slung over arms reaching for a water bottle sun rays approaching you could see the glimpse of light it was about to begin
With more change I have more pocket money I purchase a flying rug Race a plane To Bordeaux With my change I buy some wine And race through time 300 years
Wade Waking up to the alarm sound of cries from mothers,Putting on tattered clothes worn from dead brothers,Open up my phone, and hoping to get a text from one of my many lovers.Better get ready to go, before dad gets up with his morning bottle,
I’m just here stuck, while people step on me No one knows my worth To them I’m just something to step in No one enjoys my presence; all I am is a nuisance The rain falls on me, and my pain gets deeper
"They gonna drive me. They drivin all our people I'm an outlaw. Hell, ain't it clear? Ma Don' worry, Don' worry me" Ma said, "They might k-they might hurt ya. How'm I..?"
Time is relentless. What used to feel infinite is now depleting, There’s no room for a father’s affection or a mother’s caress. Instead I’m left walking through busy streets alone,
https://becon223.eduvision.tv/ajax/../Default.aspx?q=X3Y5NcZVhaA3Zoir8l4yug%3D%3D THAT'S ME ^ Money is right
Gymnastics is coaches That are strict and precise. Gymnastics is warm ups That make you drip with sweat. Gymnastics is ropes
The bones they scream in volumes that grow I hear them begging to show They want to press pass the barriers They want me to learn “no” It scares me as much as it thrills me To take it all in and see
I've cherished all this time Never told anyone I could achieve it Until I saw a sign Still know one has believed it Chased it since I was young Live it now since I'm old
Why do they judge her? And y'all just let it happen? The heartache and the pain, please remember when it pours its rains. They don't the situation, she could have gotten rape.
She sits alone In the dark Trying to find the light In the only thing she has ever known In her hand she holds a knife It’s her only escape from the world Where she’s all alone Innocent child
Please baby sister do not cryStay strong for meOne day you will gain your wings to flyNever think about saying goodbyeYour pain will soon dieAnd you will feel so alive
If you existed, Would you look at me as a future image of you? If I prayed, I would drop to my knees and beg and plead for you to be shielded, From the twister,
I was once told that “originality was dead,” And for the longest time, I believed it so. However, through conflicting opinions, I realized that it was alive, And only needed to be reinvented.
Teacher, I am a writer, I am a singer, and that's all I care about. I care not about history, or science, or French. I care only for English, and chorus,
I’m not good enough Comparing myself to others always Look at the negative side Thoughts run through my mind as I walked through the hallways I’m not good enough Everyone is smarter, more talented, and cool
shut them out, as I suffer to breathe Where are the words? Can we talk instead of scream? My opinion remains unheard The violent escapade on the frigid ground, I laid he charged at me,
Curled up shaking no where to hide, cold steel and brass next to my side. Headphones in but hearing the screams, red stained dirt vivid in my dreams. Not you but ME I shoud have died.
I dance because God made me to dance. I dance because even though sometimes it’s the most painful and hardest thing I do,it can only make me stronger and more dependent on God.
I thought I heard your voice last sunday the raspy tone I know all too well I thought I saw your soul last sunday running along where the spirits dwell
educate me, ignite the passion that burns in my soul educate me, i yearn to be made whole. there is a me waiting to become, me...i am to be someone. someone who has purpose. i am someone. educate me.
As the trials begin the emotion within buld up as we abide the consciousness within us the summer days grows hot, but the wrestling room is even hotter. the inner confidence upgrades from steel
Undying feelings, Never rested eyes, All these feelings that fit in my life. Academics, Home, Chores, Parents, Love, Divorce, and College, A never ending stream. Thoughts and feelings,
Opening the doors and sliding onto black leather seats. Squinting as sunlight reflects off of the sunglasses hanging on your rearview mirror.
You are nine, and the sturdy surface of the leather seatKeeps you company while your brother is away. At rest stops he goesOff with Dad, off by himself, always off without you,
As I open the door feeling the crisp blackened air of the 123 and ABC’s as I sit in my prison chair
When I'm lonely, you're there to keep me company. When I'm broken, you're there to fix me. When I'm lost, you're there to find me. It may not seem like much, but it means the world to me.
Forever thee flame could not be kindled Our love was unlike other loves, easy Wild tongues spread, unable to be swindled. And happily, it was a fantasy Today, sadly, like every fantasy
I have an F but I'm not stupid. That online homework, I couldn't do it. They all have laptops and phones with apps. I have a job while my mom naps. Impossible to learn at school.
THIS girl d e s p i s e s youand e v e r y t h i n g that you do.YOU are the t h i n g that keeps the sun from shining.
I trust you, teacher I really do But the words stick in my throat I want to tell you, teacher, I really do. But I don't know how to say the words How to tell you
I have lived a life of stress and hurt I have been harassed and treated like dirt I do have some friends, yes, I do But I have a lot more enemies too These are things you hadn't known
Am I wrong if I tell you I want to make love to your mind first ? Before giving giving you back shots that sweat out your hair in make your spine hurt. I want to make you mine first. I want to put in the time first.
Listening to the music, While tears stream down my face; Is just another day. I tell myself that tomorrow will be better? But I know the truth. Nothing will change. Who was I kidding?
Life A figment, A dream Time that leaves unspoken Moments that shine unknowing Death A fight, A truth Time to leave heartbroken Moments that harm unwilling Time A want, A fear
Wordless is Worldless. Without imagination. A curse of darkness.
His arms tightly grasped His eyes filled with love His smile blooms His heart races He lowers his head Their lips meet quickly Just once A boy rushes around the corner
Tall short Fat skinny Nice mean Dumb brainy Black white Gay straight So many adjective to describe oneself As if we are categorizing something on a shelf
Make a mark in your name no two fingerprints are the same You dream your dream I'll dream mine too Don't let me falter what you want to do Soak in life Create your own voice
Live, laugh, love, have freedom Walk, run, enjoy the sun Be happy, be sad, be angry, go crazy Cry, smile, hug each other Sing together Dream together Feel each other’s pain together
There's a light in my heart And I want it to be voiced Just because I am different, does it mean I don't have a choice? Of who I love and who I don't Do I have to be straight to be normal?
Traveling over the high ways and the bi-ways of high school has been a journey that I have wanted to end since it began and tonight, when the moon’s light is the only glow that casts
Not even the Crayola Company can keep me in that box Rose Art never stood a chance Sandusky couldn’t capture my essence Prang dulled faster than my curiosity of Dixon Ticonderoga I am a work of art
is it more important that I can quote Hamlet… …than it is to teach me how to have friends is it more important that I can determine a derivative… …than it is to learn that means don’t justify the ends
My Mother, my friend so dearThroughout my life you’ve always been near I can count on you to guide my wayEven when I wake up grumpy to start the day
Start off with confidence Beautifully misplaced "This is A college level class. You will be challenged" You lied. I spend my time Listing off the Scientific names of animals That I know.
I'm lost in these rivers of peace, Hope swelling and gushing through every pore within me, Love dragging me down in the currents. When His grace oh the unfailing grace sends me drifting up to the shore, And who awaits me there?
"When do you say Who?" When the person is the subject, the subject choose the objectives the variables form the formula scrutinize evaluate analyze appearances "When do you say Who?"
Death is her wish and life is her bliss. There are cuts on her wrist because she can't hide the pain. The only trace of words filled with hate are those wounds on her skin.
It was the coward's way out, he knew. He could feel it rolling around in his gut like a stupidly cheerful puppy.
What tolerance do you speak of I've asked more questions nevertheless What lecture do you plan on Iv'e only heard three words or less That utter from your mouth The rest are stories of your perfect days
Sleep at home, not at class they sayTime passes slow everydayWhy should I do my homework anyway If I sleep at home like they say
I am sitting in a chair. Firm is my derriere. That's French for your sit upon. I like to sit in the sun. With a warm face and a loaded gun.
It’s 1 am. My mother walks up the stairs, and asks me if I’m nearly there. I say; “I finished my math, but I still have so much to do” She sighs. So do I. Times not on my side.
1,600 hours spent as a freshmen.I don't have much to say to you, time and time again.I'd like to ask a question, maybe, every now and then.But I'm a little nervous... I mean, I am just a freshmen.
Don't try and tell me who I am I get enough of it by society don't judge because "you know" maybe we are the same size but not same shoes don't assume we're all delenquents some of us just want help
Shouldn’t it be a sign? When the stress of seven hours makes kids want to get high? When they would rather take the failure Than stand up in class, Because speaking a few words
What do you mean "what does this mean"? So you give me a "B" I change my style, I change my content But my grade remains constant I ask you a question on my essay "Only you know the answer", you say
What's that there? What's that here? It was near, now it just disappear! What did it do? What did it went off to? It sure flew, but I think it likes you! It just past by.
You want to teach me Math, but you can't count The minutes to be on time. You want to teach me English, but you speak in ghetto rhymes. You want me to prepare for the future Though you can't prepare yourself.
Yes! Yes! He accept my friend request I could remember the joy that filled my soul It was so much it leak like snat coming through my nose my heart was like the prime minister on Election Day
Why?!! You went to school to educate, but you fail to be educated about who you were educating... I stayed in class waiting For you to see me but you refused to listen to me...
I am Shapeless. A Villian to an arching Hero. I am a Pest. A Slug. A Menace. Forget MANKIND. I am pushed. Punched, tugged in all sorts of directions. Do I have a mind of my own? Again,
Everything is fantastic, euphoric even.People who've been there from the start surround you,Laughing, joking, smiling, even mum is bragging.“Yeah, I have the best daughters ever.”
From when were young, To when were old, We are always learning, From teachers to parents, From elders to others,
There once was a girlWho loved the whole worldBut most of all, school Smiling face, her head held highThat's how she faked through her daysAs kids sang of her dying
The children, the children Will anyone care A little girl just wants somebody to care So badly, so badly They want to be loved Who to call mommy Who to call daddy
How are we, as students, expected to do much?How are we expected to enjoy school after we recognize the discomfort inside ourselves whist there?
tomorrow i will be sad again. did you know? tomorrow i will be fulled with sorrow because there is no more me and you. do you know? tomorrow i will cry and you will not know. tomorrow though that will be my last tear.
A winter night beneath the full moon is all that it takes To strike the longing heart with the sharp sword of sorrow Gasping weeps to the night carried by tears that keep me awake
Teacher, open your eyes! You are feeding them all lies! We are living in a society so enwrapped with gender, I imagine myself becoming a bender. Not only of rules, regulations, and taboo,
Dear Lauren, Your head is on moving mountains While your heart is broken into thousands And today you fell off the track But I'd like to guide you back
I am that nameless one, the one girl everyone seems to have an opinion on Oh look, there's that one ! that slim one, I heard she was this , heard she was that You hardly even know me to even talk. what do I do ?
Darling. where are you? She won't let go of her bear As she gasps for air
Blood drippingLegs closedArms coveredFeelings exposed Hearts racingWounds unhealedMorbid thoughtsLips are sealed Alone AloneYou left againA knife in my backIgnorant men
Why hello there little boyWhat can I do for youA heaping serving of knowledge you say?Well isn’t that cute
Buring memories. Right when memories began,the crazy things we had planned.Playing around just us two,having fun as young kids do.Laughing at the stuff we say,remembering back to yesterday.
Burrow beneath my bones and kiss my left ventrical Your lonely bristles brushed against my cheek and the sensation lingered Leech of my fondness give me back my desire.
There’s a bitch in my brain she’s filled with lemon juice and black tar There’s a bitch in my brain I didn’t see her filled with fragments of broken mirrors and rotten fruit
I've been raised in a world that dictates who you can love. Not by the foundation of their character, but the structure of their bodies. A point where I feel ashamed to mention that the girl walking past me is beautiful.
My dispair flows from Wherever I am To where you are, In the sweet sunshine of Californ-i-a, Where only God can see you And your newfound glory Breaking our hearts, This THING,
Take the time to listen, Take the time to know, Take the time to hold on, To that which is truly good.
Every morning prior to the bedlam of alarm clocks,a smile sat royally on the throne of her majestic face.One arm thoroughly rested across her abdomen,why the other searches for an abeyant lover that
Sometimes words whisper and sometimes they scream Some people grow in castles that gleam Some of us start much smaller than most Some of us learn that words leave a ghost
Our words lay out On the roads between us Straight as the I Sharp as the L Curved as the o Strange as the v Exit at the e Meeting at the Y Curved at the o Arrive at the u
the mirror reflects my image i see all flaws no light am i really like this is this what others see?
She opens my eyesto a new world,a new universe,full of happiness;happiness to be with the one I lovebut also, a new world fullof hurt.They are constantly staring,plotting against us,
no matter the struggle i continue my jorney, no matter the hurt i stay strong, my life depence on my dreams, be strong and be free my n
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
Water you are life. You flow through Earth's veins, Transport us to the vast unknown, Whiten the cold, frozen ground and Darken the sky and let out a cry. Earth, prisoner on watery shores.
scars are something i have plenty of, some are bigger than other but they're all caused from something i've once loved and mine are usually worse than anothers, all my scars tell a story
They shape our lives and watch us grow, they are a part of us. They humiliate us and make us laugh, you can't help but to love them. However, ometimes things don't go as planned, it spirals out of control and leaves you feel breathless.
Version:1.0 StartHTML:0000000178 EndHTML:0000004594 StartFragment:0000002359 EndFragment:0000004558 SourceURL:file://localhost/Users/travel/Desktop/Kristina/Poems/Rain.doc Raindrops kiss my face And in this pour I dance
Will this gun violence ever stop? Will we have to wait till we've heard the trigger click of the last glock?
When I pick up my instrument, I feel as if all my fears melt away, Everything and everyone slowly fade, That’s when I begin to play. I feel as if all my fears melt away,
In the dawn, when the sky blooms rosy pink, And ignites with gold, I would dance in wild dales, And cavort through cloud-caked skies. My feet would lick up fairy tears, Suspended on trunks of grass,
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
I feel your pain. I know the hate. I see the fate we're doomed to take. The cruel words. The harsh remarks. I share your scars, and broken hearts. We join hands. We stand tall.
O’, terrible awful mind of mine. How can I even begin to think when you constantly barrage me with these blatantly hopeless thoughts? My young soul yearns for the freedoms of innocence, yet you dash these nursery time fantasies.
I wish I could be a child forever, clinging to my mother after a bad fall on the asphalt pained but safe in the knowledge that she is there; It will be all right. But days go and the nights fly away,
Behind these glasses my mind growls - full of emptiness - like my stomach. Not fed. A mosquito trapped in a window. My mind trapped in a tiger's cage. Gnawed, ripped.
He loved alcohol more than your love Like ever guy ,he said those words that made you cave in Guess he thought it was enough To make it work To fall in love
Blood flowed like a river to the drain. Sirens pierced the night stillness as my stretcher shook with unrelenting vibrato. CT scans delayed while fountains of crimson
What do I see? A world filled with hatred. I see a world were man can't be with man. They can't be seen holding hands. I see a world with double standards because if you're a lesbian it's cool.
What is freedom? Is it the light I see in this dark place? Is it just a word, or do I give the meaning to it? Is it the feeling of floating freely in poisonous water?
I never thought this would happen, They would say, "It doesn't exist," I knew they were full of it, after our first kiss. From that moment on, I knew Love could be, I never thought this would happen to me.
Once I was hurt, Once I was shattered, Once I was young & knew no better. Now that time has passed & I've had time to heal, The love she has shown me has never been so real.. (For Christina)
Different, Different is the laughter, Different are the tears, Different is the feeling knowing you're one of my fears.
Suck it in suck it out. What are you trying to do, pass out? Not something you wish to be? Take heavy thoughts in wisely. It is hard to watch when it's hard to breath. Will you stop going weak, don't deceive.
Blown away in timeAn illusion that's sublimeFulfilling my thoughts
A pasted on smile, stretched over bleached white teeth Perfect skin, clean and bright Perfect body, toned, tanned, and fit Perfect hair, straighted and dyed THESE are robot girls, ripped from glossy pages.
The darkest night hides a chilling truth, Invisble to even the most adept sleuth. Creaking, whining, shrieking, twining, Sneaking through the depths subliming, Reaching out to the gleaming sun,
I live inside my own head where there is a garden and no door “you let the garden wilt & rot” “I wanted to,” I said Doll lips upon the petals trying to breathe life back into the garden.
I've been put down But i don't give anyone a frown It's irritating I don't show that it's fustrating I'm going to be at the top making people's jaws drop because they didn't make it to the top
“Found” When I was four, I died. And for the life of me, I could not be alive. When Its light brown eyes turned into dark moonless nights, It still shone bright.
Time is irreversible, but lets sit in a hypothetical world. When we move back, every motion is different. Disappearing is still considered a footprint So move back to the initial attack on the system
What is one to doWhen all you can envisionIs an impending visit fromThe cops, inquiring about theLatest teen statistics?
The sulky piano speaks its sad song. Its tears spill out as minor cords. Its black and white dressing shows no color, But its slow song brings happiness To creatures close enough to hear. And that’s all it needs
The time is approaching, Summer breeze in the air Clocks are ticking, Yet we seem to not care Friends and parties are on our mind Unfortunately, not realizing, were running out of time
The words that I will say They all must sound cliché But they do not lose truth or ever become passé My words they do convey A message that's been delayed For spoken word still leaves a whole
Why do I write? Why do you breathe? Why do you blink? Why do you sleep? Why do you eat? Because we have to. Why do I write? Why do you go to school? Why do you have a job?
He'll soon see Through your ways And finally know What I know You'll try and tell him it's ok And put on that phony show You'll make him believe it's all his fault
Oh to life’s little desires Through irresistible body’s pleasures Such do they bring the hottest fires Within you cannot control Within it gives comfort and console Promises to make things better
Can one attain the ability to Invoke happiness onto Himself or herself Would denial have to tie into This indefinable equation Although to each his own But what is its definition
I think constantly Insesantly Thoughts pour though my mind Some malevolent some kind I can't stop the steam They are flowing all the time Thereis no cure You can only treat the symptoms
I was having A pretty better-than-average day at my well-paying job Repeating my pleasant cashier script to my mostly-pleasant customers Pretending all of life’s boo-boos don’t exist
Billy was once a kid in my grade. When we were little she would wouldn't go out, not even for the town's parade. You see, Billy had a speech impediment. Children would tease her for her words-their abuse became adamant.
You gave me love and that was enough yet you continued to give me smiles loads, miles, even piles My words, you enlightened to make me whole everlasting shine that filled a bottomless hole
The stars are shining bright In the middle of the sky Producing a faint light As I look up and sigh Their beauty is unmatched So bright and real I've grown quite attached To their perfect appeal
Writing is like A mirror That shows you What your body Can never reveal. Your thoughts. Your feelings. Your desires. Such things Are not so clear In reflective glass.
What happens to me when,I write all the words on a page andit brands my brain then,I watch it flow.Stuck in my own head knowing, nowhere to go.All this stories, roaring and consuming
"How I Found Poetry" The first time I picked up a poem; Shel Silverstein took me away. I could not put the book down; so with the story I stayed. As I continued to grow older;
I am a writer. When I was younger, my mother told me "Use your words! Use your words!" when I wanted something or was trying to get my point across. And even though she claims now it was her 'biggest mistake'
Aching, screaming Shortness of breath, Begging, pleading Wanting to cheat death Bargains, promises It will happen no more, If only time froze And would rewind to before.
To my father whose blows bruised my body and my heart Who did everything in his power to make me feel like less of a man Whose hands, rough and worn by the harsh realities of life, I still fear to this day I write to you.
So Many Places... Where do I wan't to go? Better yet, with who?
Whenever I place a pen to a blank paper I pause like a diver on a high diving board Looking down at the waters below, so far away, So far removed from the casual air of everyday life
I write because I don't know what else to do when things seem so crazy and I can't get through to anybody because no one wants to listen to me except that piece of paper where the pen through which my heart bleeds out as ink onto the only outlet I
It began with button. “Butt-uhnn” I said excitedly while pointing at my mother's navel, and then my own indentation where I was once attached.
When I began to write it was to escape from a dark place. To be joined to a rap group that expressed a substantial amount of grace.
Silent yet too powerful to overcomeWe can only feel it when it’s too lateSomething we can’t cure, it can hurt anyoneThe victim’s pains will only escalate
Poetry is hope It means you don’t have to be alone Even when you are It’s the light breaking through Darkness swirling, spreading, growing Poetry is beauty
Fingers curl around a ball point pen, paper is out and ready. A thought comes to mind, and is transferred onto a single white sheet. Ink, like a fountain, pours out making the task easy to complete.
Rhythm and rhyme, A logical use of my time. A creation of wonder and thought, My own separate world with life being brought.
Dripping words Tongue in cheek You smile hyperboles You breath in Irony Spitting Grinding Regurgitating metaphors
When i write it gives me an escape From all of my trials and tribulations My writings take me to a special place I started writing because my feelings always seemed to get in the way
To which are you referring The lines that you are blurring The hands unheld and the tears untouched Hungry, hurting, hopeless
Do you know? Those little nesting dolls? The ones that have numerous layers And a puny center Well, identify and personality are like those nesting dolls
Writing is a passage to the soul, A life etched in ink or coal. My story is different and unheard Yet so many find it so absurd. I write to tell my story, I write to escape my quarry,
She yells with a voice That reaches far beyond miles She yells to rejoice Towards upside down smiles She screams to find peace To a world full of tears She screams to find joy To a crowd with no ears
I write to be free and let everyone hear my voice when a lot of the times I don't have a choice When to get up when to go to bed how to walk how to hold my head what to wear and what I can buy
when you look at me what you see darskin ,brown eyes and sandy brown hair\ do see a big smile, with dark lips someone thats not that tall but stand so tall and proud all the time
The teacher stands in front of the class "Today we'll start writing poetry" Immediately the kids begin to sass simply for the new foreign artistry. It wasn't like the red roses and blue violets
Tic. Tok. Tic. Tok. Tic. Tok. Time is running away, growing short, fading to black. It's the end of the film, time to applaud, time to give praise. When the grain of sand is used, it's gone away, no getting it back.
Tenth grade English class For the first time: Frost, Cummings A world of beauty, Love, and passion where I can Escape the routine of my life
I began to write When I was twelve; And at first, I couldn’t Do it very well. Yes, I could rhyme, But I used many clichés, But I started writing for a boy, So I wrote every day.
The sun shine, and the grass grow. The leaves fall, and the moon glow. The cars honk,and the wolf howl. I write because it makes me smile. The wind blow,and the ground shake.
language it shifts changes rearranges it moves and remains but a word is a word and blue is blue but is blue to me the blue to you? is this poem my poem or is for you?
A poem by Alan Turing… Title: Who is Worthy? Who can dictate whether or not an individual is worthy? Ignorant individuals view others based merely on their own journey.
Why I Write How else would I describe the setting sun? The beauty of pink and yellow glow How would I describe being in love?
Why do I write? When things are not alright I'm full of fright Yet trying to be polite Thus, I keep it all inside Wallowing in my own pride But it all shows in my stride
Messages, communication-- This is what I love. It's why I write songs and share God's good news. Poetry, like quiet music Is similar, And I write it for the same reason.
An empty canvas Is as pure as snow, And as white as the clouds As time struggles on The canvas is yellowed and aged, It is torn and mangled, The canvas is distraught,
Well, I have a shovel in hand, Standing before a mountain, a wonderland, Written on a sign was, "Stranger, you'd better dig," -find all the treasures, all the 'thingamajigs.' and you'll be glad you did."
Why I Write. Well, I write because my lips are sealed, Im speechless, The words on the paper stab at my meekness and rips open my flesh, Only to show that the outside is decent but the inside is a mess.
Free is a bird whose wings are unburdened by the problems of the world With a pen and paper, I am free to be who I am And who I want to be Free to express myself, my words, my thoughts
“You just told me you’re taking somebody else home because I, Your girlfriend, won’t go home with you.” “At least I told you this time. So you can’t get mad at me.
Every time I write it is as if I am splattering a little bit of myself across the sky for the world to see. I’d say, “Look! That’s what I AM.”
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
When I write a poem, at first, I feel so nervous-- like a lovesick, teenager experiencing her first kiss. You feel a burning sensation in your stomach as though a flame inside has been ignited, then,
Stage lights, clear stage, waiting crowd outside. Until it is my moment to go, Behind this curtain I will abide. I feel my innumerable heart beats Simulate a drum roll audible to only my ears.
I find it quite clear, That by reading, my dear, I find myself trekking in a world rather queer, Things far away seem oddly so near, I listen to sounds that are quite impossible to hear,
Since the dawn of time, critisizm, judgment, and alienation has been happening. Racism and hate has been spread.
The silent urgeTo end my lifeSearching for bloodOn my skin with a knifeI do not flinchAs the blade runs deepBlood spilling overWith a painless creepAnother cutAnother tear
Each sunrise highlights this ongoing battle of relapse and recovery. In a world overruled by the constant roar of flying bullets outside your window, it isn't hard to not check under the bed every night for monsters.
I am a writer. Who is writing a poem. Words flow, but is a river made? A river flows but were any words made? I write and write and write and write But does that always mean I'm right?
There was a certain familiarity to itLike breathing.Creating a stage of my own desiresWith my pen
No, I don't run fast, but I am always moving toward my future; I've never been truly talented, but I'm always trying to push myself; And I have no idea how to achieve my dreams, but I will always try to reach them.
I write for the people who fought for me, paved the way for a better and brighter future for us. That encouraged the intelligence and strength- of a people who are shunned.
When the walls move in and the room gets small, When the ground disappears and I suddenly fall, When the sky gets so dark I can only see black, When reality disappears, I have a panic attack…
Another day with a blocked mind. The pen and paper remain uncaring. They sit, waiting to be Used. In the evening, my mind settles. Words form. The paper is scribbled on.
A blank expanse stretched across the flat, like unscathed, snowy ground, Yearning still for its promised adornment, pleading to be found. A lightly clasped structure, aimed with ink, is eager for the rush,
So this is a story of a boy and a girl Who wanted to run away from the rest of the world Their lives were so different From the ones we all know They hid their emotions Never let them show
I can smile and look at everythingTwisting a strand of hair with my finger,A childish expression i wear to pass the time. Until then I am wasting my time skipping and stepping on broken leaves,My toes growing numb from the water soaking into my sh
Swaddled, protected- from Ugly to Envied Beauty. The New, I embrace. Fragile at first, I burst free. Stretching my tenacious wings I fly my own path. Clinging to my birth place, to Origin- I return- Back as new with changed limbs. Fragile th
Who knows you better than yourself?
It’s amazing what can hide behind a smile. But once the first tear falls all the walls crumble.
Anything is poetry The bird that just perched on a tree all alone Two people were fighting and one slammed down the phone Just write a few lines Take your time Make it rhyme Or not.
peer pressure, a stereotype for teen but really what does it mean.Its pure pressure.
To get away from the drama that just may consume me I write my hearts true desires the thickness of the pain layers upon layers have taken a painstaking toll on me writing takes the weight off my shoulders
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,
“You can never win” Society roars They seek for more More is what they yearn A sudden fill of whispers fill the air Not ever so rare You can never win Tears protrude
I am a writer with no topic, But everything to be said. I am in love with the scene of blank pages, But am terrified by their audacity. I could script a scene of poets,
I was a boy who was so confused. I felt like a hopeless toy. The joy starts to flow like the skies of my light. It's hard to reminisce the battle wounds. It guided me through my shame.
Life, It takes you by surprise, Thoughts, secrets, worries, stories, It all adds up, Losing a sister, A best friend, Having the time of our lives, Growing, Making memories,
Sometimes, I believe I might be dreaming. But I can’t really think. I feel an image in my mind; but I can’t really see. There’s white noise in living; but I can’t really hear.
Numb the pain Or bring feeling back. That equilibrium is vital Too much feeling I cannot function Not enough leads to the same Tell the world how I feel.
Pick me not a flowerAs though that were all I amA quickly fading pretty thingJust a trinket in your hand
I think about you when you're not by my beside You live miles away so that's almost all the time Even worse we're going to college separate ways Both hoping the relationship will never fade
Hands lock, fingers curl. Eyes twitch. Just a few of the many things we do together. When walking on the beach, seagulls high above us. People waving hello as we get higher,
Poetry is an expression of feelings deep inside,of hidden secrets, inspired dreams, or the wanderings of the mind.It may be complicated or something that can't be said,
Throughout ancient time human kind has been confine to the design of someone else's mind but im finally here establishing my identity my humanity I am he I am I I am me
The paper is my portal And the pen, my magic. I don't live to write, I write to live. Because reality can be Too much to handle, And the truth Too much to bare.
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.
To be Heard, To Speak my Mind Too long my voice has been ignored Too long my voice has been silenced. I say no more. I say ENOUGH. I have a mind: Powerful. Brilliant. Unique.
I have never been able to trust my mouth to repeat what I tell it to say, so the words fell from my mouth to my hands, the scratch, the scribble, the scrawl, they told
You know when you sit long enough somewhere And your mind begins to wander It wanders to the darkest depths of despair You feel about life and its never ending twists and turns.
School, work, life Stress I can't breathe Homework piled high I need a break Pencil, paper Words flow freely Ahhh, air Sweet fresh air A break from madness, A mini vacation
Haikus are easy Everyone can write them But me
Something that has been seen,By both those of our timeAnd the times that have passed before us. Something that will be seenBy those that come afterOur world has turned to dust. Eternal.Neverchanging.The waves flow through the sandsOf time. I write
I wrote a line or two of poem once because it was required of me. An assignment given by the teacher. And wonder of wonders it stuck with me. I couldn't get enough. Poem after poem
A little bit of poetry can help feed the brain A good anology, would be, trees and rain Not only that but it can also help ease some pain The way clots stop, and block, bleeding veins
I- (She who is a Lost sea inside)
I write because I can't speak. Words get stuck Behind the plastic on my teeth. It's hard to talk on the spot, Make a great retort, or give the Class an amazing report of the
We all start out as embers (with a potential for passion but a forecast for failure) that need careful, tedious, tending. as time passes, guardians slowly wander away, but return quickly as needed
I was born without a mouth, And taught never to shout out, Or questions things or try to change, It’s best if it remains the same. Without a mouth, There is no voice, That can be heard,
Writing for me is more than scribing ink on papyrus It’s freedom and duty for me to uphold what is righteous I speak not for myself for I have nothing of value of which to say
I am an infinite doubter, But my hope weighs more. In this lifetime I could see Marriage equality. Marriage isn’t about the word—it’s about a cosmic explosion of wholeness.
First voice: poets anonymous how may I help you? I am addicted to poetry many of the symptoms include 1. Dry throat because I have spit fire multiple time a on a stage
She speaks in tones of survival- when my ancestors first were mistaken for railroad ties, chink goes the sound of hammer striking metal we were
I like poetry, because it's easy to read Where the writer has kept Only what you need. Rolling off my tounge like a summer breeze. Not always rhyming, But with a good flow And immaculate timing.
It isn’t about me It isn’t about you It is about everybody I don’t want one person to see I want them all to see I write for the world So every continent can see So the world can see
I am a poet, and yes I do know it. I'm not one of the most articulate, not one of the most beautiful, My words are set on fire by the passion in my heart The words flow from my innermost to the paper, unconstrained.
Walking down an empty road Passing places once called home, Silence echoes in the air Amongst the mist I roam. Drifting like a flightless kite, Submersed in dark without a light,
That feeling of utter desperation That pit in the stomach and weight on the shoulders The feeling of complete relief when that is erased and satisfaction of being complete again and whole once more
I keep alot of thoughts within myself.Whenever it became too much to hold in they spewed out themselves. Words with power of their own. Prisoners inside my mind, it was not their home.Talking leads to frustration.
An oxen pulls a cart with all its might its muscles strain forming shapes that outline patches of its body bulging from its skin veins protrude
Freedom has been fought for and won in many ways Wars on land, or battles on the waves Politics, revolutions and rebellions But the freedom that exists no matter circumstance or strife
Words are powerful, especially when they’re written Well, to me it is. When we speak, people hear But, do they actually listen? I write because My feelings become stronger and my thoughts are more organized
Poet notice: I wrote this poem for my final project and presented it. The parts in parenthisis are supposed to be sang and are from various songs. (Well here we go) Freshmen year 2009 were the times
When I open my mouth, no sense comes out like a radio playing static sound. My words filter through ears yet no one can hear the things they've ignored all these years.
I read poetry as a way to find beauty within the worldEven when I believe the world has been irreparably corruptedBy the big names of the corporations who trample souls to get their way
the Words sing emotions springing forth sad songs of happiness, a melancholy air For poetry is my self-reflection of the world shining through imperfect eyes. I am me not often questioning
The answer to this age old question seems to be everchanging for me When I was small and niave I wrote about the boys I was to shy to speak with, yet adored with every inch of my 4 foot frame
When the room is still, you can hear the untencil briskly brush the paper. I can hear my thoughts, my fears, my, emotions thump at the roundness of my skull. The words, they scream at me.
I live in Texas weather, It’s way too hot for us. We always pray for rain to come, Then we always fuss. When it comes I’m unprepared And don’t know what to do… I’m undecided what to wear,
One’s mind, One’s Voice One’s dream One’s choice. Words can hurt, Words can heal. Words are everything, it’s a big deal. Taking control, is a true blessing That has this little world still guessing. You can think colors, you can think trees.
Skin deep I'm blond, so I must be dumb, but my mind whirls faster than most. Skin deep I wear skirts, so I'm a crazy conservative, but I'm quite liberal. Skin deep I'm not skinny,
My heart rises and falls As a tide on a moonlit beach With each movement comes pain and also fulfillment I feel the sweat drip, down my face on off my cheek The pain, brings its own form of motivation
A thought races Quickly and quietly Through the trenches of my mind It lasts only a moment And it fades forever into nothingness I turn Again, as if by nothing more than black magic,
Motivation, Possibility, and the possibility that I can grab which is beyond my reach. I am not religious, but rather superstitious. and Demons cloud my mind, My faults manifest themselves as sin,
Everyone has that one “hitch” the one that they either can’t or just won’t get over… and mines is poetry. The addiction is so premature and pure.
Five years and my love for you has not changed. Five years and I never miss you any less. Five years and my longing to be with you never wavers. Nine years of your all knowing eyes. Nine years of your arms, ears, and heart wide open.
Who is the still figure illustrating my mirrored image? Is it not from the moment we are born that ignites the art of curosity, and the strive to achieve.
exhale— watch the tendrils of smoke dance before being whisked away. sitting on the porch railing his book open beside me as he searches for the meaning of life. he could give
If women are not bound by their waistlines, Then why do girls’ eyes droop at the sight of scales? More like blooming tulips than heady wines,
The way he stares, makes me turn lush, for eyes he glares,at me turn mush. I see myself in his eyes, the want in his glare to have me there in sighs. And I said my share of words to spare,
I write to escape Reality's dark cape. I write to expolore The world outside my door. Others don't understand what writing means to me Because they don't see the things I see. I write to express
I begin all of my writing at a liesurely pace, in deep thought about what is going to happen next.
When we enter this world, we are new. We are innocent and righteous; Naturally accepting with untainted values Unknowing of the world full of madness. By the age of ten, the influence has begun.
Before my waking life, I was colors I was the flowing frequency unheard Undetected Existing bodiless, yet connected still To everything that ever was A blinding flash of energy
I don’t write to live I live to write Words flow from me give My thoughts new light No other form Could myself express The freedom I get From writing. My feelings, my thoughts,
Pain is an ocean. Drowning me. Words were the lifeboat. Rescuing me. I was young. Probably thirteen. They were my heroes. Writers. They were believers. Fighters. A wide-eyed boy. Follower.
There are too many thoughts in my head. There is too much to ponder over.
I write in the night, not a soul but my pen and paper witness my craft take flight. Fear is the reason I hide. Fear of failures cruel laughter. Fear of dissapointments cold embrace.
Uneventfully I awoke. Unsurprisingly the sun beating hot on the single paned windows – Caused dew drops of moisture to form Dragging myself out of bed, Discarding one used shirt for another,
Para aquel hombre sentado bajo el sereno de la noche, Con su mirada perdida en el tiempo sin ningún reproche, A ese hombre de cabellos plateado, La vida lo lleno de doradas riquezas que el mismo fue cosechando,
I won’t pretend to be an unfortunate soul, With hardships and suffering I could barely handle. But I have had my fair share of emotional misery. Tears have fallen on my pillow
Why I write... It's simply for existence. I am a vessel full of words. Peek inside me and that is what you will see. I am raw emotion And I want no filter to make me murky.
A smile that shone as bright as the sun, A laugh that keeps one going till the day is done, The girl that once walked with the confidence others dreamed of Now claims the blackened heart- now free of love.
The smell of orange popsicles drip summer afternoons Daisies climb to the edge of scraped knees Kiss me gently, and beg to be tucked behind my ear, I’ll take you with me
In a world so loud,
To tell a story, To sing a song, To rewrite the words of times gone by, Or write of the times that have yet to come, To use our right of freedom of speech, To relieve our grief
I’m at a state of confusion, so many emotions bubbling to the surface. I hate you, I love you, I look up to you, I look down at you.
When my thoughts can't form Coherent sentences I can put together My fragmented thoughts Into stanzas.
Tell it as it is. We have multiple ethinicities. Multiple sexualities. Multiple religions. Multiple desires. Multiple needs. Multiple looks. Multiple situations. We have one thing.
shes tough, she plays hard to get, she makes you smile like you were five again. laugh like a kid and makes you feel like theres nothing in the world but you and her. she is like the angel frim the sky but she is buetiful and amazing.
Sand in my pockets, skipping off my fingers, and stuck in my eyelashes, under my tongue and between my teeth.
At the age of 16 thought she had love she was only in love with the presence of him his face , his body, his rep it was a mutual infactuation the relationship progress to only create stress my friend
Words written in led or words written in ink; whenever I find a chance, I really begin to think. Words written in red or words written in pink; When I find the chance to write, it feels like it was meant to be.
Intertwined deep within your mind, I do see craving for more. It's clawing inside you, breaking it all, Making you numb, oblivious to the high. You want nothing more than that drug your soul desires.
For hundreds of years blacks have died by whips and chains Its' 2013 and blacks are still dying over whips and chains. Our heroes fought to make a change So why should'nt the new generation do the same
The words expressed bring peace of mind the simple rhyme helps me unwind It helps things make sense and gives me confidence It helps me speak It helps me think
I write because i can't express the way things make me depressed. Not aloud atleast, so on pages i unleash a beast. Everyone is under the impression that i don't feel, that alone makes me reel.
Silence Silence is golden No, there lies truths unfolded Gold is the truth and silence is the corrosion Failure to speak of such things Leads to conversations about other things
Why I write? A question so simple and small. How else could each moment become history? Yesterday's memories to the wayside would fall. I could not keep to myself in silent reverie,
Days go by from that day People were desperate each day They would show their stuff off They would even sleep in a loft No one could bring up the money No one couldnt even afford a donkey
Why do I write through day and night through fights and strife and loss of sight? Because poetry will remain. When my plane loses flight and I fall from heights and I'm filled with fright.
Poetry to me is like the air I breathe. It lives in everything I see because it's everything I believe. When I had no one poetry had me.
I visited the doll factory today, though I usually keep it at bay. Society is frequently consumed by them all, but just remember dear: Don't you dare fall. Every doll looks the same, porcelain, white, and oh-so mundane.
"Why do I write?"Sounds more like "Why do I live?"I write because I have have no choiceOr rather because I have the willAnd the power to be able to expressMy emotion through the usage of This thing called "The English Language." I didn't wake up o
Music is going down the Highway listening to Kool and the Gang's "Summer Madness" Thinking about those days When you felt that Cool summer breeze on your face.
My mind is always empty But when it comes to poetry My mind expands To more of what it understands The words flow from my brain from the happiness or the pain
Let’s give them guns, Let’s show them how to shot someone, Let’s to teach them to feel nothing about seeing the blood of their family, Let’s watch their souls turn into masters of death, We have created monsters,
I write because, It's my true self, It's how I vent, Anyone can read a poem, But each person will have a different take, Whether it be bad or good, Nothing beats the moment when someone says,
People tell me everything is going to be ok, That things are going to get better, But, how do they know? How do they know what’s going on, When it’s not happening to them,
Just like a butterfly she's hard to catch Just like a butterfly she's unique Just like a butterfly she's hard to pair with a match Just like a butterfly she's a mystery
Tis given that so we go about our lives Flame-filled flesh foregoing the world, Hidden and concealed, in the shadows of the mask, Seeking the grain to erect the pearl.
The world is spinning too fastI can’t keep up at allI try to reach for help butI find myself falling Can anybody helpPut me back together?I can’t stop fallingFurther into darkness
I hate the way you look at me I hate it when you could see through me I wonder why you're the only one I see And everyone else around me is busy I hate the fact that you were the only one who could understand me
You know when you finally find a place you belong? a home, a place where your heart feels set, a place that feels safe? When days are long and exhausting
It is like we are sailing away and yet we are at bay still in the middle of tomorrow and yesterday not knowing why we try so hard to live in the moment
Just because 4.0 knows the equations of quantum mechanics Doesn't mean that he is smarter than 2.0 1.0 might not know the terminal side of an angle
So I'm finally reunited with my friend at long last, She is a close and dear friend from my past. Back then, everytime we talked was a moment of bliss, I was always thinking, "Man, it couldn't get any better than this." You see, back then I was
I've never been so worried or sad, or angry or anxious or mad, than when I first knew I loved you. I had been hurt a lot before, physically, verbally, maybe a little more,
Writing, it's quite a release,Giving away the emotions of the day.Writing, it brings me peace. Sometimes, I don't want to cease,It lets me say what I want to say.Writing, its quite a release.
Senses unfolding, Speech's inadequacies drown, I will write to be heard.
Anxiety ruled Emphasis on past tense used May have saved a life.
They say birds of a feather flock together. But maybe that’s why I feel under the weather. With my body tethered to this world I sought a way to be liberated.
In the darkness and the rain,My life will never be the same.The driver crossed into my lane,And for my trauma is to blame.
Hello to girl world Boys are their big prize Pink car to my surprise Music cranked Phone in reach Happy to be alive "Happy Girls are pretty girls" Hello Cliche Phone calls from
The emptiness consumes you, filling your soul with darkness, you can't run fast enough, you can't hide well enough, Because it is inside you, forever.
Anger, love, all emotions Bottled up inside Nothing with breath cares Only the lined paper The lines absorb the hate They give all their love The lined paper will always be there
My mind races, Screaming to be heard. But the words blur, The sentences trickle away. My jaw clenches shut, And my mouth turns to desert sand. A lump invades my throat,
Perfect flowers do exist. But only where the good people are. When I close my eyes at night— I like to think that only then am I waking up—and everything else is a dream.
it's true, I say that the pain stays inside that we don't know where to hide but why? you ask because we're broken because we're lost because we are alone
I'm being so lazy It's driving me crazy I can't even describe this weird and boring vibe I sit outside thinking to myself Looking at the stars and wondering how they are placed so perfect
My dear old friend, your time on this earth has ended For me, it was much too soon and I wish I could of arranged it so I was more prepared
Staring and declaring No known piece of evidence But my factual mind can prove everything I could've sworn he was apart of me Growing from my rib And configured from the ground
Naturally I wear my hair jet blac with no perm,Naturally I speak my mind if I see it fit,Naturally I am artistic,Naturally in nature I am me.
Man's world unfolds fool's gold and wild vanities untold The sake of being pious is valued at minus Ruthless is cherished as highness Brandished guns and sharpening knives
I don't how much more I can take. You're bending me until I break. You're making me get closer to the ledge. Soon I'll be falling off the edge. Hitting the ground. I will lose all sight and sound.
I write to keep the food down I write to clear my tears I write to stay alive Maybe it is smarter to pick up the pen Than it is to bend over a toilet bowl I write to be worth something
I will lay down today, and my world will melt away. Let my heart lake flight. I wont even put up a fight. I will watch as everything goes black, with a fear that I lack.
The world is more vivid for you Then me, Trapped in the mono-green, Womb of the earth. Watching you all scurry by Seeing more with your naked eye
Each and every question, by you or I, to me My mind is quick to answer, so sure I’ll feel it be An evolution strikes, as dusk turns into dawn Awakened with wide eyes, my decision’s fully wrong
The darkness encloses slowly, Circling my mind and keeping Me from feeling anything. Why am I always so alone? Secretly weeping a river Of memories to slip,
I am a dreamer and a believer, A student who strides to be the best. Only willing to be an explorer, Of a future filled with tests. It won't be easy to succeed, But I will not let life pass me by.
Call me crazy to admit my past affiliations. Call me insane to pursue my aspirations. Shall I lose my sanity to issues of nonsence and dislocated tangents As I search for everlasting fullfillment?
It was so easy at first. Like a moth to the flame. I was an innocent victum. And you a harmless game. Just skip one, it can't hurt? After all, what's the worst? Nobody can see the damage,
A creative child Driven wild By one’s own imagination Thoughts abound Running around Dreaming of creation No one knows A story untold Of one’s pent up emotions
I was close So close To letting you go Then you came back Back into my life Told me how you love me How you've missed me So I return those truths Hope boiling over Now I sit here
I saw it among the others,the bright dazzling purple pen caught my eye.I knew I must have it.I must rescue it from the dull colors surrrounding it.Eager to use my prize,I drop its point on my paper.
I hate you. I want you out of my life. I lied. I love you. I wanted to make things work. I tried. Your actions as well as your words cut me deep.
I cannot stand it any longer Should I fight and Should I die Would I feel at peace or cry? O' wonderful person before me I can't help but feel as if you tease me
The love of poetry that came The love of words that began It all happened here—At poetry slam Words begin to build Ideas begin to flourish My mind became blown
This my dedication to Pac. I sizzle and pop like crack rock. It’s like Snoop Dogg walking Round the boondocks. This tune pops like something Outta an mc’s mixtape, With drugs, alcohol, and
To fall and crash, to climb back up Is what my sister did. All throughout her high school years, She was a faulty kid. To sneak and lie and just mess up Was her kind of thing.
Poems are used to express one’s feelings and emotions. They can be seen as a recess or even as a potion I write to bring out all the words that were just lost
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
Some may say we are nothing more than players in an overcrowded game. We're spread in different layers but we're nowhere near the same. We, ourselves hold our destiny they can't control our actions.
Why do I write? Why, of course for the power! The power to choose, The fate of the story, How does it start and how does it end?
Rings and spirals fill my sight, Coloring the empty space. Everything is glowing with and eerie light. Comets fly by in a dangerous race.
I'm not mute Though my lips are silent. Not cruel Though my thoughts turn violent. I don't agree When I have nothing to say. My mind rebels When my feet obey. You ask for my thoughts
A girl sits in this world helplessly waiting for a reaching hand having no one to look up to no one to understand she follows the wrong things growing up way to fast her life is like danger
I write because I can express myself freely. I write because it's a doorway to another world. I write because it's my form of art. Writing is my anti-drug. Expressing myself with no ridicule,
I watch her closely-- As her smile broadens, Her dark curls caress her blushing cheeks And her eyes carefully roam beds of flowers. She reaches down, Plucks a handful of daisies,
"Hey! Remember me?No?Come on! Don’t you recognize me? Your best bud since that quiet scary night in 93. You were just a babe, remember, sleeping in the dark? When I swept in like a clever snake and crept into your heart.
Why I write: I write to unleash desire Like many forbidden dreams, I write at night I write to control the beast who wishes to devour
Young and innocent at 17 years old His life and fate stands in the hands of a man so cold Mis judgment of character and based upon looks Zimmerman took it upon hisself for the life he took.
Love is a race. That we all trace. Take the risk to be in a better place. (:
Take the risk for a better trace.
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
I began as any other: unable to know my other talents. I wanted to test myself further: finding them with many accidents. It began as a task that was given: write a poem with five stanzas.
Just make sure you succeed They say, Never lose sight of who you are She says, One cannot achieve without a degree He says, I feel as though I will fail! We cry.
The difference in you using your voice Can mean the choice of leading a revolution Or watching underdogs silenced Now which would you chose? During many points in my story Where I thought I was dead.
Ever since I was young, I knew. Knew that my world needed expanding, to open on itself, I write to create, new worlds and new lives, I write to destroy, hatred and fear,
My dearest darling, I am right here can't you see? You are the one who set me free. My smiling sunshine, You gave me courage when I doubt, You make me smile when I pout.
I tap my pen and bite my lip Thinking of subjects on the slip. Not a word comes to mind for an instant But my mind whirs, fingers twitch insistent. Then suddenly ablaze the worlds fly
Compressed with so much anger, My body cannot take. So little, frail, and meager, I then begin to shake. The feelings forced inside me, Are harshly packed so full.
Ask me why I write. And I’ll ask you why you breathe. Writing is my air.
I started writing to express the hurt that was wrapped, twisted, and concocted inside of me. It seemed to be the only way that I could fully open up and express where I actually wanted to be.
Wherever I would goRight or left, up and down and all aroundI could never really see much in lifeTo relax and be happy, wasn't much my styleI and everyone else could see, that I wasn't really me
I try to go to you,When I need to talk.But instead of listening all the way throughYou decide to walk.I try to let you know how I feelBut no matter what is said
Music is what makes you move Music is what makes you groove Music can be good or bad depending on how it's used Music can make you choose different clothes to wear Music can make you change your hair
Why I write That is the question isn’t it? Why do rhymes and songs of verbs and the paintings of words consume my spirit? To be the sustenance of my soul and the beatings of my heart? As my tears cry in poetry
We sound alike we really do. Your voice flows through mine -- salty and strong. Well, you spit fire, my dear.
It has been the start of my life and the birth of my heart. It has sparked my interest and left its mark. Poetry has been a part of my life, for many years it would seem. It has helped me out
Feeling deserted and solitary Just me, a pen, and paper My emotions settle in and beign to vary Never once did i think it would happen again But thinking back i was only ten
There are many reasons regarding why people write Whether it is as a hobby or to pass time by However, I write for a truly different reason
Emotions blur my judgment and vision Anger flashes and the red lights glisten Jealousy shines green in ways to distract Love, a pink hue, makes my reason retract Then sorrow, empty, deep blue, blinding
If you really knew me. You wouldn't believe the words coming out my mouth. Because what you are about to hear is to cruel for a human ears. But i want dare tell a soul. Not because they didn’t ask.
Like a bird flying, I wish my dreams could be free from life’s gravity.
If you really knew me. You wouldn't believe the words coming out my mouth. Because what you are about to hear is to cruel for a human ears. But i want dare tell a soul. Not because they didn’t ask.
I think, I think.I thought.SoI write, I write.I wrote.Sit,I speak, I speak.I spoke,what was written on my notes.
On my body there are scars Ugly, hideous scars These scars feel detached As if they are not mine But are simply leeches Unwilling to let go On my body there are scars
(poems go here) I write because I don't know how not to, how not to express the pains and gains from the claims and vanity of this life.
When does trying to taste the rainbow, lead to tasting death? a man walks while one is burried, holding his head up as high as his gun did...
My mind cannot be held prisoner It has to be set free. This is why I became a writer. To express all the thoughts in me.
My feet take root in the core of the earth, my hair wraps around the moon. I turn my head, and the ocean sways in harmony with me, kissing the shore on either side, rocking itself to sleep.
Because always the muses are heard in the whispers of the half-yellow hills floating awake and also in her whispers, so eager to be aloof from me. Because always the pen-arm desires
I use poems to tell my thoughts when normal words won't do To express my inner, darker sides that I'm afraid of too It feels like in my darkest times, my words come best in rhyme
The words are boiling in my blood. To speak of things yet unsaid. I take a pen and let it bleed. Innocent pages white now red. I dare not seal these words of mine.
I write to experience you, Lord, Your abundant grace, Always embracing me in your love, Breaking my self, To love others. I write to express my frustration, The world wears me down, but,
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
Where did the old me go?The one who didn't cry every night?The one who never disappointed anyone.The one who loved everything.The one who always had a smile?
I'd like to be an artist. Paint and sing and dance and show my love through colors; emotion. I actually dreamed of writing history. Telling the world of when and how and then;
Life and its many surprises. What happens before each sunset and after sunrises. That is why I write. The ups and downs, the smiles, the frowns, the laughs, the snorts,
Why I Write? I write because if I don’t Somebody else will tell my story Somebody else will see what I saw Feel what I felt Hear what I heard For me Why I Write?
"Scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble...CRACK!" I groan as look down to see what my pencil had attacked. The words seem ok, the sentences intact,
Here I Walk Alone On This Street,Not Knowing My Life Would Innocently Be Taken From Me,Why Do Us Children Have To Be So Shattered, Hard times And Hard Struggles Is What Happens In Life But,Sometimes It's Just Too Much To Continue, Trayvon Isnt A I
I write because when I scream my words fall out of my throat like angry gasps I write because when I dance my hands become intertwined with vibrations and words i cannot understand
I write. I write to love, for the people who do not deserve my love. I write to feel, the emotions I do not feel. I write to express, so I can release the anger within. I write to understand,
Follow me back to a moment in time A memory for me. In a crypt. In my mind. Waiting for him, it's an hour past five In comes Drew with his broken blue eyes. He sits across me in a cold seat that grinds,
Thundercloud waters Tapdance across midnight webs Into my smartphone.
Why do we write? It's almost like screaming, but so quiet- So innocent- so unimposing, almost as if we were trying not to disturb the world with our words. Every writer knows to be careful with their words,
I write to speak my mind. I write to keep my thoughts inside. I write to express. I write to impress. I write to remember. I write to forget. I write because I have to.
it all began a few years ago, My eyes were opened, now i cant let it go. It's my mom she is the REAL bread winner in the fam its a shame what she has for as a man she works and works and nothing pays off
I want my first love back why am i stuck on him i wanna move on.... its seems like life without him i can't go on.. i pray yes pray that he will come back to me why i dont know because he mean so much too me..
Why I write , you might never know. How it feels to have the words flow, from my mind through my soul to the paper.. all my secrets out to be told.
You indure the valleys lows the world could be yours climb the frozen mountains the world could be yours travel through the grassy plains the world could be yours
Forward march, hut 2, 3, 4, hut 2, 3, 4 look at the small soldiers go. Hut 2, 3, 4, hut 2, 3, 4, tears on the face drip slow Hut 2, 3, 4, hut 2, 3, 4, their parents are dead and gone
I write to vent, to get the words destroying my thoughts, like the tornado that went through Oklahoma this year, out of my head. I write because I won't be judged, because I can stay anonymous. I write so others will know that they are not alone.
My days flutter and fly, Much as the wondrous world, Though I look up at the sky, I still wait for my meaning to unfurl. Each day I would lie and wait and watch the birds,
To me, poetry is an expression An expression of various senses What you see, hear, smell, taste and feel You see reality, the true forms of people and things
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.
Do you, do you have a halo today Your day, your day was silence throughout A coffin painted black The home dressed with flowers
Words too heavy with pain, To be given the weight of sound, Thoughts too vile to ever deign, To consider saying aloud,
How extraordinary is a flame. Born from nothing, it is a million vibrant reds, purples, and blues glowing with gold. It is fuelled by desire, and burns with a passion to create, grow and live.
Sometimes I wonder why the government wants to take away our rights I wonder why I have to fight every single day of my life Sometimes i wonder what is this hunger we have for more knowledge
Poetry expresses hidden feelings. They make words sound appealing. They tell stories, Out of the words in your inventories. Sometimes it's hard to describe how you're feeling,
Dark arms reach up inside my mind, slithering through, coating my thoughts with a thick film. They become obscure. Now the bombs explode, cascading silent sparks- the clanking pots and pans
Through life of worry and uneasiness, Delightful dealings divulge disarming doubts. But writing poems melts my life's mess, And slows down the mental fast-moving train.
Interpreting doesn't get us far does it? You're wrong. It's what moves us along once we are stationary, when our thoughts and words settle down too. But for you? You're more than that. And for me? I'm bored by that. Poetry, poetry.
(poems go here)
When I was a little girl I was told I could do anything Be anything Achieve anything I was told that I would always be enough And I was convinced That on my daddy's shoulders
Happiness isn't just an intense emotion. It's a state of mind, a sense of peace. One will simply find happiness in the moment, not by searching for it. Remember, there's more to being happy
MusicCountry, jazz, blues or bop,Rock, rap, swing and hip-hop.Melody and harmony flow through the air,and each little phrase has its own flare.Improv., rehearsed, each a special kind,
When you get the answer to your problem; then you think it is over,Then get a little feeling of peace and happiness, but still, you’re not going anywhere.Then you feel that special guy really likes you and adore you,
(poems go here)
To write is to have power The power to speak The power to educate, and be educated. To write is to have will The will to believe The will to succeed To write is to fight
People walking around doing what they want trying to be different without the taunt But as a child freedom involves trust with parents that can disappear like dust Destroying that freedom gets you locked up
Poetry is the air I breathe, the sacred serene sound of peace, the one and only complete atmosphere, where symbols provoke happiness or fear.
Why do I write?Why do you breathe?Why do we fight?Why do we deceive? It all seems so conspicuousexcept maybe the first.They’re all just in our nature,for better or for worse.
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
The first day I saw you I thought it was meant to be But it had to be you Who would turn me into what I didn't want to be I had dreamt about you Man it took me a while to realize
Not many people have experienced true loneliness It comes with the feeling of hopelessness And makes you feel completely empty inside It will make you want to curl up in a corner
What is it that puts poemsIn such a fondness of our heartThe passion, rhythm, meterOh so many ways to start
A peom, mama? Now what could that be? A poem, said she, is what we will read. Let it drizzle into your ears And melt away your fears So the words that you hear will lull you to sleep
She writes for the reason of feeling. The reason of no one believing. Belief of who she is. The girl of truth spoken in her ears. The day she seen and heard. Heard the truth being told to her.
Seafarers speak of a mother, yet do they mean the woman who bore them or the blessed virgin whose child granted them salvation? No, not they. The one of whom they speak, they sing, is angry, is cruel,
I write to have a voice A voice that can scream A voice that can cry A voice that can laugh A voice that is understood by others A voice that means something I write to have feeling
When I look into the mirror I see me. I don't see 6 colors or 6 women, just 6 of me. But then I realize what you see in me. You've colored me a rainbow and that blinds you from the real me.
When a raindrop falls from the dark sky above A tiny voice calls, in the distance looking for love You can hear the thunder, lightning flashes in her eyes Her body six feet under, trapped alone her soul cries
I write to ease the many stressors on my brain I write to keep myself from giving into the pain I write because my heart has been shattered
Voices of my friends I hear it. Voices of my own I fear it. I'm living my life on an unbalanced ladder hoping that I will be a somebody. A tongue is sharp and can kill,
Who knows why we are chosen, Sometimes friends are chosen too. I don’t understand how it's decided, But he only took you. The first time around, We both made it through.
Fallen down, broken in the streets Hopeless eyes filled with pain searching for something to eat The broken, the abandoned and the abused
I am my poetry I am the carefully designed Lyrical lines Of insanity I am a walking scar and poetry has healed me while leaving her mark I do not regret she was simply staking her place
The buzzing sounds of machines overwhelm our power of sound, mainstream rhythm is concealed. Birds that beautifully chirp, chirp, chirp
It all started one day she got threatened, got made to do something she didn’t want to do thought it would get better, but no, it stayed the same
When I'm lost is why... I write. Because sheets are white to glow and shine light on a better path than mine. When I'm angry is why..I write a highway escaping life.
Poetry and writing means the world to me. Without it, I am incomplete. Without art, I am nothing. Music, dancing and writing hold hands together in my world And skip down the sand lined beaches of my imagination
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.
Dear Old Friend,/ I Remember your crazy face / Especially when you made jokes about my hair / Walking in the shadow of the moon we laugh / Waking everybody up / Remember those days of Happiness / When we watch those ladies walk / Late to school we
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
When everything comes crashing in And there’s nowhere to go but the wall I transform my emotions to ink on paper No one knows the way I feel but A smile can’t fool my best friend,
The streets raised me from the dusk to dawn never knew life could be less fun suicide attempts everyday with my gun people think i'm okay but i'm not and then some
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
Up e a r l y, sleep l a t e. These thoughts talking all before I fall. Asleep is where I cant go. Because thoughts converse with e v e r y soul.
Children believe, such wonderous things, As children are want to do. But those wonderous things are made clear to be, Nothing more than childish dreams. For what once was will no longer be,
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;
Why do I write? I write because I'm angry, I write because it's my right to write, I write because I love to.
The rhythm of the light glows bright metaphysically as I write. Dreams gratify in the night with the messenger's kryptonite, chemiluminescence from the sixth sense fills the essence. Ogasmic waves
Society told me that I should not feel the same for men as I should for women Society told me that I should always be covered when leaving my home
Her smile keeps me close, her tender hugs bring me closer,
What must I do to keep this hunger inside of me? It’s like a black hole, dark, dense, spinning, sucking, pulling, A Never escaping nightmare. I grab my stomach and it growls at my hand.
Where will we be When teh Skys turn black and everything we see turns to attack. There is no turning back. The waters will rise as the lands fall. Birds cease to fly.
A smile, a laugh the soft trail of tears. He splatters them around without refrain. In his right hand, a scepter, in his left a snare. He catches us. Contains us.
(poems go here)Ser Inmigrante Mexicano no es cosa del otro mundo Significa trabajar tres veces más fuerte, dormir con preocupaciones, vivir con sueños,
When you dance to music, you must feel so alive. When you have the wind blowing through your hair, you must feel so revived. When you drink liquor, you must feel a fluid drive. So when you try to write, do you ever feel so deprived?
As I sit down to find a writing utencil, I quickly recite the phrases in my head. Then, I scribble down my thoughts with a pencil as if millions of dancing words in my head come together by a lead.
When you're young you develop dreams, but it's easy to expect a lot and think it'll come easy. In reality those dreams become the little things, and all the hard work causes you to get queasy.
The cries of the people, the slash of the machete How could we ignore? The millions of bodies that lined the roads, the celebrations of the killers How can we forget?
Poets have power through words, phrases, and rhymes There is always meaning behind every line Poetry is an escape, a world unknown The beauty is that you can refer back to feelings and emotions you felt, after you've grown
Pain-filled days run longand hope is dashed with careless words.Love is lost in a night's sleep and reawoken in hopeful dreamsOnly to be found dead in the morning light.
As I listen to her taunting me With a daunting smile Bickering and fighting Like a child She’s in my face so is the crowd She shouts pop off bitch pop off Were close closer than close
Back when tying my shoes warranted a pat on the back, and I sang Scooby-Dooby Doo as Mom cooked dinner-- back when I sat on the laundry machine to hide-and-seek, and fairytales nurtured my very being...
Sadness drowning me into the depths of the ocean as the sun glistens above me. The white clouds peacefully floating in the air while the Blue Jays dance with them. Now I grasp pain and misery. If I could learn to fly I would never return here.
I don't write because my poems create floral borders around my resumes and college applications No, I started writing after my third grade teacher persuaded me how My writing was different from the other girls.
I've searched my life’s peaks and hearts disappointments for gold, for money, power, fame. Drained, I can only see myself, in you.
It's not for love. It's not for fame. I don't need the world to know my name. It's not for peace. It's not for change. It's not to heal some deep inner pain.
Life can be good Life can be bad But the one thing you can do is keep your head up high And your feet down low Their will always be haters out there
Bullies don’t understand how I feel, They do not try to comfort, But instead, confidence they steal. All bullying seems to do is distort. My soul is burning, I need to run. To me it is concerning,
Poetry, the wonderful freedom, The anonymous friend that calms your flares. Poetry tends to ease my mind, Poetry is my vent for life. My anger now will be released, My stress will unwind on paper.
Father, don’t I look pretty? My mouth is sore and my tongue is gone. All I have is anger and love and I have smeared it on my lips and cheeks for you.
It was like a never ending feeling running through my vains that lead to my fingers, tips I remember it like it was yesterday, yesterday five years ago Could've been the amount of stress that was put on, me
If I could dream on the horizonit would be a forever sunset.Golden glows and a silver lining. I’d get lost on that in between,the space where Earth meets sky,and maybe I'd lose my pining.
Drifting through the endless winds Life seems nothing but empty words I had hope to find something to keep me grounded to this reality But it seems all that I found were more reasons to leave
There's a certain profound beauty In watching words string together In such elegance to eventually Form such a sweet everything. To find that I too could be the Stringer of these words
As children we are taught to follow our dreams.</> What is not taught is how difficult that actually is.</> We all try hard, some go to the extremes</> Just to have it all shoved in our face while kicked to our knees.
People living in poverty need so little to be happy, A single house Is known as a palace.
A ticket and a dream was all that she could see, An orphan, and hope for all that could be. Not even a hop, skip, and a jump away. To arrive on a plan was more than they could ask for,
In between the mingled breaths and the quiet pitter patter of rain, When the night swallows the moon whole and the in-between collage of colors before day breaks the night, I sit and I write.
When they ask why i write how could i explain? it's like asking why one cries when they are in pain or why a bird responds to a bird call I'm pretty sure y'all heard about newtons third law words are,
softly spoken words of a new tomorrow you wispered just a little enough for me to want more Screaming in my head is just a quite gleam of hope a tiny drop in the pool of dreams
Who would go out of their way to find me? Who was looking for me this whole time? You came back and finally found me again, But where have you been this whole time? What took you so long?
Travel An old blind man Traveled down a dusty, weary road The brown dirt he kicked up, weak and pitiful,
We may not think that we are strong enough Let someone try to tear down our identity, and that fire will burn up everything daring to block its path, let alone doubt its power We may think we aren't smart enough
"Why I Write..." Three simple words forming one little question, Why do I write? Is it because I aspire to be one of the poets that participate in Poetry Slams?
I sit here thinking in the dark About what had happened and what was the spark You are my truest friend And will always be till the very end
I write because it is an essential part of me. It’s my silver lining when the clouds lingering become too much. Writing gives off a sense of hope, comfort, criticism and encouragement. It’s my expressive outlet, as I’m sure it is for all writers.
I’d rather run out of my house with no destination in mind than reading poems about the same old poetry When every poet in the world writes about the same black ink that courses down the veins to the fingertips
It’s all bad This moment, This pain is far too familiar This moment I usually consider a life lesson I feel it’s less of a blessing And more of a curse But right now I could care less about
Asleep; I tremble and shakeWishing I were awakeAwake; I shake and trembleSeeing how my nightmare seems to resembleThis place as bleak as hellYet here I continue to dwellWaiting for the sweet breathThe sweet breath of Death So when my life does cea
Walking past me, There he is with some of his friends we make eye contact then he looks forward pretending I don't exist we have to keep it between us he says ill say hi to you at school he says
Poetry. It's a beautiful thing. From occupying a few sentences Providing an open canvas for wonderous thoughts, To
When it's cold in the night we shall fight for our rightWe want shame to be goneFrom the land of the lightThe queen of the night is afraid of our might She teaches us the Qur'an Indeed an evil sprite
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"
That pen is a pick A shovel A trowel Picking away at the dirt. The dirt that covers That tomb of emotions Hidden away so long ago. So long ago Hidden away.
because we live and breathe and
To clear my mind for the aura of a focussed being.. To put aside self inflicted insercurties brought on by societies images of perfection,
I didn't take writing into consideration for a while It was a group of letters to me, nothing more, and nothing less No emotion that positively strikes other souls around me
A bare rubber sole taps hastily agaiunst the linoleum tile, pencil erasers bounce continuously all the while. In accordance with a strict militant cadence, the test takers continually lose patience.
It’s so untouchable. Something I could want so badly, if circumstances were different. But even then, something I shouldn’t want.
Uncertainty grows around us as time whispers into our ears And with age, we lose hope, year after year Dreams are planted and watered for the young at heart But time comes to play and tears these dreams apart.
Acid rain Crawling through your twisted veins Stealing the eyes that used to see The other side. Now I've tried I've opened my mind To an endless possibility
Sorry for dismissing you.
A pulling sensation draws me to the world of words and sentences. A cyclone inside me unleashes these words, drawing, painting, imagining a faint picture. I was little when I noticed...
Oh poems how I despise you. I hate when my teachers make me write you. I don't know what to do. You are like onions in my food. when I write you, you have no beat. You are worse than smelly feet.
Writing allows me to express inner, deeper feelings, wants, and thoughts.
The people stood in small groups. All hte green grass had been trod down. Mud crusted on their black shoes. The sweat could be detected by untrained noses. The beads on their foreheads ran to dry lips.
I remember it like it was yesterday when I was an uncontrollable teen. I was always skipping school, fighting, I was already angry but i didnt have a reason to. I have great parents who would give me the world if they could.
My vocabulary may not seem so big But my mind is always wondering. My skin isn't as bright as the one next to me But my diction and tone is brighter then them.
Words are my escape. They are my thoughts expressed. They are how I understand myself. I write as an expression. The relief I feel is exquisite. When I write, I can make something beautiful. I can capture attention. I can captivate my readers.
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 and out, In and out The line moves and sways So much you could stand there for days Atleast till the sun sheds it's rays In and out, In and out Grind and brew, grind and brew
To be successful is hard Yet, to fail is a given. It's ok to be '16 and pregnant' That’s the world we live in. I look up at the TV screens And think they got it great. Watch the news and here the bash
When I heard that you were sexually assaulted, I mourned for your childhood. And perhaps that was not the best response. Because you have not died. You are still very much alive. I guess I’m just sorry
You Great Dividing Line, you stand so strongBetween two priorities of my life:Do I up my GPA and succeed in academicsOr do I find myself in Christ?
I write to let go I write to say no I write to be heard I write to hide behind written word. I write for my freedom I write for my soul I write for my heart I write for the polls.
I'm sitting alone with my thoughts and everything I've ever done wrong. The silence is burning. It screams in my ears. Life is overwhelming but it's all we have here.
The world I live in is changing I can see that It’s like we pulled terror right out of a hat Our government is now more corrupt more than ever Promising us that it’ll all get better and being all clever.
I am a writer. A passion within, Emotional release starts with paper and a pen. My heart starts to flutter, My knees are weak, Just at the sight of a blank sheet. How a spirit can feel
I write because I was born in a place like hell Where, I dare tell Abuse is what my mother chose After the finishing the bottle the anger arose. There were usually some scars and bruises
Words are spelled differently in languages I don't speak, but they all mean the same when they're about you. Words are just tiny black lines and curves, but attached they become the things you used to say to me, too.
Poetry is the plug to my outlet. It completes my circuit. Energy whirrs within me, Waiting to have release. Between us, there is tension, this spark.
Perfect white - clouds rolling like hills under A sky pale blue like his eyes: sightless, remembering. Staring through a glass oval, indented deep
Why do we write? To tell others of the sorrows we go through as people? To share with the world how high and mighty we show ourseleves to others but deep down we sore lower then the ground itself?
I search somewhere inside myself and find myself beyond myself. Poetry, prose, paragraph, rhyme -- these structures may be used or transcended to express my thoughts, dark or sublime,
It's been awhile since we talked, It's just that talking has become hard, Things have changed more than I thought.
I sat in a sea sadness One that drove me to utter madness But my friend my lover The only being meant to discover You were the words I thought couldn’t find
The art of writing should not be a question of why or why not, but of how. But to answer the question, that is a very simple question with a lot of answers. I write to dispel the dark storms that society has cursed me with.
He was born a mute, Until the ink got a hold of him. It stretched his tongue and as he licked the back of his teeth, He realized he had a voice. He found confidence in the deep and in the bass,
I'm sad. But I shouldn't be- My life is great. But I worry a lot- about health, money, school, and life. Do I have goals? Maybe. Or I may just exist
Facing Life's problems through my paper and pen. Overcoming the obstacles that I produce from within. Once being a lonely soul, making friends with my words. Life's a journey; I'm on a quest to find my pot of gold.
My words flow on paper,the stress loses its leash. Allowing me to be vulnerablewithout the lost of dignity. The pen and the paperbecomes the doctor.
Childhood dreams from the soul before p.t.s.d had swallowed me whole, going to save the world from itself, but now I can't even save me myself. After 'he' had robbed me of my life,
Always walking down the dark path, Familiarized with every detail. Nothing new Nothing old Just the silent footsteps, Of a broken soul. No one hears her cries
A couple of smoothe dry pages moved by the soft hands that control ages,of thought and the process, protest of an incapable body,not yet devoloped but getting there,enveloped a sudden hidden share,of a mess.
Maybe you know or maybe you don’t,But you are the single most important person in my life,And I really appreciate you,Though sometimes I might not seem to show it, Know that I do.
Young girl There’s something you need to know Sit down, listen, take a break I’m going to be real with you, not fake Media tells you who are what to wear how to dress
I hate this feeling that I have right now, but I know it all too well. My legs feel almost numb and my chest feels heavy, but I don’t know which is harder: inhaling or exhaling. My body is reluctant
For only the rain shares my sorrow with its ever tearstained days And only does this willow tree match my weeping ways. Its limbs hang low
Time enchants her victim, begs me near to sharp being…Wraps round frail shoulders as she tickles porcelain cheek.
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
this amazing poem which is the greatest haiku is my gift to you
I long to fall in love with my life I yearn to live beautifully, Crave to paint my life with metaphor And plant seeds of meaning and significance In everything I do. I dip my brush in a pool of bue
I looked up at the Aztec sun/ I knew the world had just begun/ The rain poured down/ Drowning out all sound/ Except the brain-dead taunts they threw/ I took them and I knew/ That there had to be more than this/ More than this Hell we call Earth/ S
Closed eyes, heavy sighs. We are broken. Desperate pleas, destroyed dreams We are long gone.
A writer writes the words they writeforming each sentance with care Some writers write into the nightwhile others simply stare Some writers write with eloquencetheir words a masquerade
(poems go here) Family is family You cant pick or choose them Some may be loud obnoxious && rude Some maybe sweet && kind or fine tuned There not going anywhere So get used to the crew
If writing gives me a voice, then I should seek someone to hear me. Though simply hearing will not do, it is listening that makes the difference.
There is a stranger looking at her in the mirror. She stares back, dark, wet hair. Her face- a mask of nothingness- but her eyes, filled with the deepest, contained sadness. Face, red and stained black with mascara.
I write to feel I write to know I write to see I write to know what I think and to see what I feel I write to explain the world that I know. I write to keep silence the thunder in my mind.
The words rush through me like a raging river If anyone could stare into the depths of my soul they would quiver. I write for the anguish I am feeling inside Sometimes I don't even know if I'm alive.
Prop 8 You're so full of hate You f*cked up a state And forced us to wait As bait for the courts You seemed easy to kill But not until bigots got their way Trying to "Pray away the gay"
(poems go here) Closed In. Closed Out.
You ask why I write. I ask why do you care? It’s because words can affright, and make people stare. Words give me power, and other people hope.
My voice bursts out of me at will It knows neither manners nor volume Like a siren, it echoes loud and shrill It's the Joker in its costume For my smaller voice is not meant to speak
The blood, the sweat, the cries, The tears, deception and lies, All for that one moment in the light, That's why I do it, that's why it's done Starting from the little balance beam,
Even though I'm not with you at at the time of day, I return when night falls comes around. Even though I can not be heard I can be seen. I keep all your secrets as they should be.
Today,I am a poet.I can feel the wordsWelling up within me,LIke a smile I have not yet freed.
I am not a conformist/ I am a writer/ And the ideas I follow may be confo
It all started with Charlotte's Web and, "Daddy, let me try!" I traveled to Hogwarts, and France, and got lost at sea. I was best friends with Huckleberry Finn,
It has bestowed upon me The final year of my academic career in grade school Through all the truimphs and failures that goes with each year i' am the 12th Man
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.
My life has been fairly easy Besides living with a mom who doesn't love me Depending on Food Stamps for our next meal Can't buy necessities without a good deal My dad works all hours to make ends meet
Inside my soul it cries and wails, I keep it trapped, for the key is mine. Until the cage, from my own hands, at long last falls and fails. Nobody can comprehend that museful flower,
Chain me up and my actions follow the pattern Thinking freely becomes a problematic matter Breaking free from labels becomes unease Your self doubt is for the world to feed Our thoughts is for us to own and probe
Stumbling through the darkness, Lying through the false teeth, Laughing and smiling happiness, Feeling desolation beneath,
In my small garden, I grow thousands of proses, I love every kind. Thorny, smooth, dark, bright, Their messages glare clear strength, Proses are roses. Yet when the fire,
My mind is racing My heart is pacing Theres a tingling sensation in my fingertips I Just Want To Be Happy! NO! It's right there within my reach Please! Let me just grasp it
The last piece of my destroyed heart has finally fallen and shattered BAM! As I bend down to pick up the remaining pieces the knife of your words is jammed into my delicate spine
Words can mean happy Words can mean sad Words can be good Words can be bad A poem can be what you want it to be A poem can be what others happen to see
Graduation in 8 weeks , because i didnt graduate in june im not complaining , kinda anxious , gotta go back to school eighteen , known to slack off but when i want it , ill go and get it
Coming up to bind The troubles ahead will soon unwind. Ahead I go without a trace, Into the wilderness soon I will face. This is my time When life at its peak is sublime.
Here’s to another day where I am seen but invisible Where I cloak myself in the shadows like one of the Deathly Hallows Alone and miserable
Dreaming, He came. He had everything to give but his love. He left. Dreaming, He came. He had nothing to give but his love. He stayed.
I write to show the world, there is hope for the youth, I write to show the world that we don't speak lies, but the truth. I write to be heard from people who do not want to hear,
That moment when you feel your life is in shambles. No longer the elasticity left in you to be the glue. All that's left is to grab a hammer and join the crew. Hack a way at the remains.
Flying among the stars On a sliver stretch of moonlight The words go past me Flying of the page
I walk, I sit my, back against this grain These words speaking bliss, penetrating every inkling of thought that is bound in my brain As the climatical moment fills my soul, I come upon recollection
I have to put on this music before i fall apart I have to let this melodic poetry transform my broken heart As it flows through my brain and battles my fears Then hits my heart like a drum and startles my tears
Welcome to the mind of the twisted minded Depression took him over, now he is blinded From what he can remember he was always depressed The only pride he carried was the hair on his chest
A Teenagers scrimmage and a young adults threshold.
I am the death in your eyes, the tension in your veins, the creator of your despise. I am why your blood rains. You are me and I am you. The thing that satisfies me the most; there is nothing you can do. No fight. No flight.
Segregation reformed by lips laced with loquacious words, Promoting the definition of separated girls and segregated worlds.Diffusing through hierarchical halls, paneled with the predecessors of freedom;
June 26, 2013 A date that changed everyone's lives but mine Because amongst this hurricane of excitement and acceptance My ship is stuck in port. My anchor weighs heavy with fear and denial
i sit there quiet as a mouse watching you scream back and forth. i sit there wanting you to stop wanting to say something to make it end. i sit there my stomach in my throat confused at why you are yelling.
Lies! That's all I tell. Maybe, I'll rot in hell. Playing with your feelings Making you fall deeper in love With me. If I just rolled over and died I know you'd cry
It was about November when I began my descent, slowly, softly sinking. That night it picked up like quick sand. Clouded lungs to match my clouded mind. Fists clenched tight,
As we complain about things being unfair, there are families in the US without health care. You may not have gotten what you wanted for your birthday, there are people in Haiti trying to survive after an earthquake.
The sweet serene a comfortable silence I recognize and think of tomorrows and forevers A loneliness welcomed A hug for myself A different time would not be like so
One thousand Ten hundereds One hundred tens One thousand ones Four thousand quarters Ten thousand dimes Twenty thousand nickels One hundred thousand pennies That's a lot of pennies.
I close my eyes and breathe as I try to remember my likes, my loves, my dislikes, my hates, my hobbies, my work, my friends, my enemies. I have to remember my character, my lines,
They aren’t living, they’re avoiding death Life is shabby and death is graceful They can’t see life as a death wish A wish to be living at your death When I die I’ll be falling
Love is Universal Its ecceptance for the things That make us diffrent Not change who we are to suet others But living so others see who we are Its not use, bending out lights
The size of her heart The length of her arms The stride in her steps Even when she's tired No time for lack The sweat on her forehead The arch in her back It's transforming into a hump
Time is traveling forward not back. Forget your past and of your lack. The dial be still yet the shadows are moving. A window awaits you birds that slack.
I see my beauty in the reflection of the waterMove my hand through the murky liquid my appearance is altered I can be anyone I want to beIt’s so easy to change myself, my identity Most go to the salon, and pick a style from a bookWhereas I change
A seemingly prolonged drive Delivers a miraculous surprise That is hard to find during the scorching heat. Refreshing air engulfs your body.
She stared in the mirror wanting moreMore of what she lostThe world was mocking herCracks formed on the glass of her skinShe ran from the image and fellBetrayed by her body holding her down
We always en up staring at the stars. Wondering if we're able to pull through. It's always that on emoment where time is endless, seeing all things we've done to get where we are today. And it's hard and scary.
I had a dream one night That left my mind in a bit of fright. It began in an inescapable prison Where darkness drenched itself into my soul
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.
(Fast sad lane of reality, other stories don't match with family, left lost on the streets with insanity, none realized the real, feel what empty stomachs got without a meal, split one time so he'll make at least a dime, bedless because of bed bug
Let mebury my face in your chest.Imprint my lips on this sculptured perfection.Let memelt your coreMake you human once more.
You're a rope dropping down from my sky; The color of Extraordinary I stare into your eyes, As into a crystal ball, But I can't find Forever I can't believe anything in this uncertain world
That night I saw you illuminating in the night sky, I realize I was small, that all the world's troubles and your own didn't matter at all, at peace with yourself and the silence in night's air,
Wondering aimlessly through black, a flicker of light, a smear of white, is all but I ask.
Why do I write? I write because I’m a woman, And believe in freedom of speech. I write because to do nothing would not be worthy. I write to make some mark of myself upon this earth.
Looking back you see it now, The truth comes out about it all, You're unsure of why or how, But they all strive to watch you fall. Why do we hate?
Time, Everyone craves it, everyone demands it, But there is so much time out there, An hour you say? That's more than enough time, Wait no give me five more minutes;
Suspended by your invisible locksRetrained from my own powerLosing my breath with every"Stop, I cannot, I cannot"But I cannot go awayChoking me with your invisible armsDrowning me with my own Niagra falls
Three barrels, two hearts, with one dream. Turning on a dime will make them queen. Choke up on the reins, get ready to go, You’re running down the alley way wiggling your toes. Check, set, pull him around
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,
More beautiful than a red roseBut equally beautiful to the midnight sky.She outshines the stars in every sky around the world.The Gods rejoice when she stands in their presence
The End The rich colors; A golden glow of marigold, a hint of deep red. Falling down the sky, for what is the very last time.
She stared out in the morning Thinking about her love: On the other side of the world Knowing it was night there She wonders what he's doing; How he can stand the sound, The sound of bombs and the
I think. Alot. But who can listen? Who has the time? Who wants to? It bothers me. But poetry. Always there. Waiting. On me. Confessions. Thoughts. Stories.
Why is it that the one person you try so hard to care about Can't seem to get the message through their head? Are they blinded by emotion? Does you even matter to them?
The earth shakes The sky storms The sun shines The world turns Birds chirp Dogs bark Cats purr Wolves howl Porsche writes Porsche defines Porsche expresses
You ask why I write. So that I feel what was lost, feel the pain once mine. I feel nothing now, no pain happiness nothing. I feel not a thing Why am I like this?
"Dance is the hidden language of the soul." Quote by Martha Graham Dance can change people. Dance changed me. It showed me how to express myself through movement. It is entertainment. It is a passion.
My name is Renee' Epps. I would be twenty-one if I had not killed myself. That's right, I am dead. You'd think after committing suicide people would change their actions toward me.
What does poetry mean to me? It is written not by the pen but by the heart Likewise, it is seen not with the eyes but with the heart.
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.
It's not a burning sensation More like a puffing As though you wish to look down See your eyes fall out of their sockets
Chaos reaking havoc in my brain up is down and all confusion feelings that i cant explain Poetry is my escape my treasure words exploding tumbling out turning chaos into second nature
The morning sun kisses his cheek gently through the window blinds, and upon awaking he grins. Grinning until he recollects what awaits him. Begrudgingly he rolls out of bed. Shower, dry, brush, dress, eat, leave.
They say that your life is in your hands and those hands carry your future, but in reality that future reflects your past and in actuality, that past reflects where you stand.
When he said, "Write me your story," That girl only took one piece of paper But he He made sure to add an 's' at the end of her paper That girl wrote too much she stopped When she ran out of lead
MasksThe click of her heels makes a rhythmic beat down the hallwayAnd I swear she’s writing a song.And the swish of her skirt, the saunter in her walk, holds a secret that is too big for my ears.
Over one hundred billion humans have inhabited this earth Till the moment of their death and since the moment of their birth Each of them working, to advance the human race
Poetry is like a diary that reflects you and your soul. The words that flow from your heart to fingers, slowly seems to find its way to paper.
Poetry is the long winter’s night The powdery snow ever so white Poetry is the glittering Christmas tree And the time spent between you and me
Rushing down the black glass road I knew she should have slowed Zooming around the curve She lost control
Hey little child, why so sad?Did someone make you feel bad?Picking on you because of your looksOr just because you’re better than them?
Every morning and night I chant for understanding and peace, to help my way along the path as a human being. The beads flow though my fingers as all 108 repetitions of the mantra are cycled.
Out of the frying pan Into the fire Just your fellow man Mislead by desire I can do it, I know I can Liar liar pants on fire
A homeschooled girl who skipped a grade, Picked up a book she found that laid. “Mommy! Mommy!” the young girl screamed, And in her eyes you saw a gleam. “Po-ee-try” the girl pronounced,
As the sphere of hours, glasses of sand, I have plenty of time forever More I sleep with my dreams of what Henceforth has idled and ceased. Stand couldn't the copious ladies
He told her they’ll be together in the future he told her he loves her he wants her and that this will never end
You still can’t decide what it is that makes you Feel this way. You sit in your room alone looking For encouragement in all the places you know deep Inside you won’t ever find them. You contemplate
2 a.m in a summer night im standing out side my backyard its not cold its not hot ,the summer night skys cant be anymore clearer at this point the smell of this darkets hour can do nothing more but enlighten me
I write to tell my story in the realest way I write to get my education on some day I write as a college sophomore with hopes and dreams no better than those who surround me I write for the ability to see the world someday
It’s forever been a struggle to meet in the middle, The waves want to overtake the sand, But the sand wants to hold their own Constantly battling to have control
If you asked me why I write, I would say: I write to live. For writing allows me to help, understand, communicate . Writing allows me to touch the hearts of other.
A girl is walking on the shore. The waves cuddle her toes, the wind tickles her cheeks. Like marriage, the coastline nurtures her soul, her existence. Only death, can break their bond.
<DanceStanding on your stage preparing for my life exposed turning, leaping stop can you see me, can you hear my hearts song?
If i could cry i would weep for all eternity. If i could scream i would, i can do neither so i mourn in the most awful silence imaginable.. The sadness and pain is bottled up inside and i ache to let out.
(poems go here)Since you were formed with your mothers promiscuity and your fathers control issues we knew you were going to be different. Knew the world might hold a grudge on you because of your broken down family tree.
I nonchalantly sat their alone while the night sky fell upon me, while rodents ran past my feet. The stench of overfilled trash dumpster and the worlds left over garbage of people sat near by.
Holding her hand like you’ll never let go With trees and leaves and lilac scent The sky with clouds you’ll never know And rains you never knew you meant
My veins have capsized drowing in their own fiery red searing with the eternal implosion called impassive confusion. The oven bells are ringing calling the chickens home to roast.
When Love enters in do you notice the sound? Is it a moment mundane or profound? For one the moment came when a child, through words that he found that ran deep and ran wild.
Get up, and start a new day. Same things I'm just doing it in different ways. Waiting and waiting for something good and new to come. I can't continue like this if I'm not getting anything done.
Why I write? I write to free, to make them all believe, to really see if it is or not meant to be.
They say the way I raise my palms towards the sky in prayer is savagely, I think the ignorance and lack of understanding is cowardly. They say the way I lay this scarf on the hairs of my very head is despicable,
Far in the distance A war rages Staining crimson upon the ground Battle cries of victors and the fallen With every slash and stab A soldier thinks of his family The ones he may never see again
We wish upon a shooting star, just to change who we are Gaze among the stars so bright, just so we can see the light
Gather the pen and paper. Reminisce for a bit. Jot down what’s on your mind- Write down everything you’d like to admit.
Father and Me From the Forest of Bamboo, the paths Lead to a small hut built for tea. We are offered an unknown delight
A writer lives a thousand lives, and none,And though a life may be worth more than words,The words remain when every life is done.
(poems go here)
Alone, with so many thoughts and desires. Alone, no one shares these thoughts with me. Alone, I didn't know if exaggerating the beauties in this world made me a liar. Alone is what I though I'd always be.
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.
can’t you feel a story waiting to be told? can’t you hear the impossible whisper? can’t you imagine the grasses alive? don't you see it?
I am the young girl who's boyfriend's condom popped I am the girl who fell victim to the man who didn't heed her please stop I am the boy who was forgotten in the shop I am the boy who didn't see that stop
In 3rd grade I was given a pen and paper told to fill it with something meaningful something moving and life changing as a youg child I could not think of such thing Such a thing a poetry was another assignment
I just can’t do it. I can’t stick to just one. My tastes are like skittles, Like markers, Like crayons, Like the whole color spectrum. You somehow stick to pop.
Come live with me and be my girl, Together we will spin and twirl. Around the floor we shall go round, I'll never let you hit the ground. We shall dance atop the wooden floor,
I thought that I could trust you. With everything that I'm going through. Acting like you can't see. Acting like you want to be... Against me?
Dual: I am not one, but I am two. What does that mean? and who are you? My name is Amber, a pure chroma color, halfway between yellow and orange, and red
I see my childhood and see nothing but a mystery. A pile of poetry books, A lonely flower growing wild in a solitary garden, and no water- not anywhere. Like a wave of relief, like music after perpetual silence,
My shattered remains Are scattered among the skies and I’m just laying here in some... restive peace Just waiting for that spark to ignite. Is this really what the meaning is? The meaning of life?
I don’t know much about the world, economy, politics and what not I didn’t know about slavery or racism at all for that matter I didn’t know about Martin Luther King’s dream and how the conquest for Civil Rights
Far far away my dreams reside...They are my innermost desires that I can no longer hide...My dreams are crying out to me so my heart believes...My mind whispers, my spirit grieves...Far far away my dreams seem distant...They silently whimper, but
The new world is waiting for you, ready to light the way. Sitting back and watching the cold, unforgiving past simply fade away. New opportunities just waiting to be fullfilled.
The scent of rain on dry Earth. Churning like seawater on a stormy day. Rising from the ground like bluebonnets on a summer evening. Petrichor is a delight. Wafting about beneath soft grey skies.
Why I write poetry? Why don't I write poetry? Why miss out on an opportunity to vent? Why not express the freedoms that I have? Why let inhibitions keep me down? Why keep emotions bottled up inside?
Poetry. Seemed pointless to me. Why not just say what you mean. Instead of concealing your feelings behind Riddles and rhymes. It’s frustrating to understand. Just tell me how you feel!
I write for power. Power for she who will find the power in her heart. I write for beauty. Beauty for she who is beginning to see beauty in her mirror. I write for hope.
. ... ! ! . . ... , .
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,
Should I yell? Should I shout? Should I scream? Should I cry out? Then will you hear me? But why can't you? Then will you understand me? But why won't you?
(poems go here) See they messed up the truth its more like "make up" take "cover girl" so you can face the fact they dont want more women like esther or ruth
(poems go here) See they messed up the truth its more like "make up" take "cover girl" so you can face the fact they dont want more women like esther or ruth
I let you go a little more each dayI guess it's better that way.Losing you all at once bewilders my soulRipping away a part from a whole.Hey, best friendThought I knew you so well
Eat my words you beast of paper, clawing for truth and lies Soak up my tears and my smiles, my heartache and my giggles A half-formed poem a finespun respite for
I step out of the plane Baggage on my right hand A bag of toys on the other. One foot touches the concrete. The hard surface onto the soft soles of my feet.
It is a dark world, but I see hope. Hope, frequently being riven apart by the truth I was taught. As if I was not punished enough.
Fear sells. Fear motivates. Fear travels.
Move along, There's nothing left to see. Just a couple more, to take the edge off of what is haunting me. You look at me, Like you can save me, But what you dont see
I just gave my valedictorian's speech. I just heard my name called. My friends, my family cheers wildly. I shake the principal's hand. I turn my tassel to the right. I am officially a high school graduate.
I am complicated. There is more to me than people realize. I have feelings. Do they know how much I care? Do they know how much it hurts? I am angry. Fuck everything and everyone. I am happy.
working hard to reach my goals dismissing all negativity and buring my fear of failure I ambitiiously strive to do my best Praying that in the end that will be enough I push myself eventhough its rough
None of us are what we seem to be; we have our scars. We carry secrets, pain, baggage, feelings, and thoughts That we keep hidden away from the unforgiving world.
Why I write A question only few can answer I write to be free I write to express I write to unleash Not just words on a paper But a story to be told Why I write Simply because I'm me
You told me you loved me You told me you cared You came in my life And taired it in pairs The bruises the confusion. You tried to break me, But you can't shake me
..Put your thoughts into perception they becomes inception, confusion injected into the minds of young youth thinking they're enforced to do the very thing that ruins society yet it all begins with You..as a person, a parent, caretaker, or indivi
Can you feel it? The rhythm inside – My brainwaves take me for a ride. It pulses through my thoughts and makes Them twist until the thinking aches.
I never think of myself as a writer per se but as a young man, never really often expressing myself properly, I found writing to be a great way to communicate.
I would love to say I love you and love for you to say it back, but I would hate to say I love you and have your feelings back track. Feelings is just a state of mind and the heart has no limits,
A broken girl you see with a flawed family she hides up in a tree playing hide and seek too old now for the games she is consumed by all the flames the girl she wants to be
I I slam because I’m me And I’m me therefore I slam If you don’t get it I understand I’ll try and explain it as best as I can I’m not an artist That is plain to see If I’ve had a rough day
Show emotion? I can't Deep within my heart, Nice and tight, My emotions sleep; inaccessible I reach down Try to bring them out. Not far enough; buried too deep down. Therefore, I write.
is not a deperesing one like every body thinks i think it is but a colorful one Life is amazing no bounderies; i live by none no body to stop you from living or dying
The reason I try so strenuously Is waiting at the end of this tunnel Relief and Accomplishment is there. To embrace me in their arms. To take me to cloud nine. To forever fill my heart with joy.
The joyful The smile-fakers The simple The up to no good The believers The "special" The "I'm fine" The "I'm okay" The brave The strong The saved The depressed
As a watermelon On the Earth Rooted, not strong Kissing burning dirt While to me the tall tree beared no shade Stood by me with no shame Not one leaf above me And that hunger for the weak
Why do people write? To let the whole world see you from a new angel.
The way you carry on in life; its inspiring. The way you smile through the hard times; its breath taking. The way you rise above obstacles; its motivating. The way you love us unconditionally; its amazing.
Telling your Brain not to Trust your Eyes Broken by Silence, Screaming so Loud Sounds of Fear, Touch of Pain Lies, in the end a Glorious Death Cutting of Flesh, Steal feels Divine
Relationships are hard, and relationships are tough. They test you and wear you down, and lately this patch has been rough.
(poems go here) Life’s bumpy roads and harsh realities Are what brought me to the refuge of poetry. A world where you have little money, Where the lady on the news talks about a new murder every night
A light of chance with words you write it shows Subtle hidden a closed gate yet now swing Waiting without a mere thought to impose Inked words never spoken somehow still sing
To express the entire entity of who I am I write. I write for the fact that living in this world of a billion people I stand alone with a voice stifled and unheard.
Step up, say your piece. Listen to my words. Hear me speak. Close your mouth and listen here. All these emotions I have bottled up, I've kept them to myself. I've shut up, but writing allows me to speak my mind.
We walked together once and she told me how they just watched from the windows as the nearby mountains burned. It started
Today I am feeling heartbeats in the earth beneath me, raising rubble with each thump. Pressing thumbs against against against the lips of liars only spreads suppression through their veins.
1. at the bus stop with twisted tobacco at my feet I watch as drivers pass, chew gum, with their radios low enough to miss my ears.
when i was walking with the ghosts, i got frustrated, fire eyed, depressed, because they didn't say shit. they just gaped at me and showered me in the sights of the still-tender
one day, i'll make a movie out of you, and we won't be the stars. but that's why people will love it.
this poem is being written as a 'free assignment.' i can write anything i want on this page as long as i use the words gruel, embezzle, and innocuous at some point.
one more turn and it's the Mission District. i'm taking pictures of strangers. these are my people, and
The look you give me brings out my fear For if I show any I will tear For the path I creep upon will distress my womb Until the end I will not be Because thanks to you I vanished
I always let myself down Always stop myself from getting what I want or what I need Maybe it's a lack of self-confidence There is always doubt in the back of my mind about what I am capable of Don’t know where it comes from, it’s been by my side
The Screams The constant reminders of who society expects me to be The dreaded tasks Work, School, Death Is there no in between? Ahh but there is That sweet sweet moment where you escape
Everything goes on, moving and flowing. Never stopping. I think and breath, so let me break free. I'll fall and stumble, and pick myself up. I will be fine. All will be well, so let me go, loosen the grip, let me breath.
Looking around this place, it is quite apparent to see Nothing here is free for you and me Whether it be by colonizers and systematically by each other
I just want to stop trying I just want to stop time Stay frozen in the moments that matter Sharing laughs with my mother Playing superhero with my father Watching flicks with my sister
The houses of the holy made from rotting pine and ichor the soft sinew of fallen things abounds the stench of decomposing things could palpitate a figure in miasmatic rapture from the grounds
Driving the car got a text from a friends asking "where you at" I look down at my phone the next the thing I knew I hit a boy crossing the street OH NO HE'S Dead Now spending 50 years in jail
guess this is how you master dancing with the stars a slew of ancient footprints in the sand So pirouette upon the roofs of houses made of cards sell scores of petrichor in little cans
In the dead of night, crickets play their song. I lay on the cold dirt ground, while in your arms. Look up, you say. A diamond filled like sky. I see a smile.
If today were the last day to live, would you call your enemies and forgive? or would you go to the shelter to give? something simple can express so much our hands together is a simple touch
If I went back to the start, that would be the end of me See me I take her heart, but let her keep her dignity Physical symmetry was what initially appealed to me
I sank into my chair as the man on t.v. spoke of a thunderstorm watch. I wondered about the funeral. I wondered if the people were running for cover, or if they let the rain mix with their tears.
Like a bird in a cage She longs to fly now Like one chosen for the kill She waits to die now Blasted and cursed For all that she's done Imagined friends in false jubilee is all that she's won
Always that Lone Ranger Running with the bulls Every hour encountering trouble and undesirable stress. With a pen and paper, Life seems easier. The thrilling Savior of humanity That
Seconds, Minutes, Hours…Days, Pass by. Leaving memories and moments stranded, Starving for closure that’s never received. Beauty comes and goes, What’s left is everything and nothing.
I write poems because somethings are better said in letters, words, thought-out sentences. Where the reader is distilled, isolate, can not talk while reading, and can not refuse to understand my perspective or message.
Millions say writing is what saved them. Writing is all that they have. And I am one to stand up, and agree. Writing saved me from the dark hole my mind was creating when I had depression.
I am a voice of the shadows, Forgive my hushed tone, Because I am unknown, Unable to waste away But I am a voice unheard Day to day. No one can hear me, But I can hear everyone, Oh so clearly.
It's plain here. Nothing but gray You shine so bright, like you're on display. Sparkle and gleam among the dull. You stand out. You must be bold.
A piece of clay lies on the table shapeless, but filled with info with knowledge that is barely stable ready, but nowhere to go
Some people experiences love others can only see it and write about it Love is scary Love is so scary At any given time your own lover can leave you without your permission
The pen, oh the pen, you are mightier than the sword Words, they say, can never hurt, I don't think they've ever been betrayed. Just a few words, just a couple sentences, That's all it takes to ruin a life.
We allow these words to fly So that we may feel free Free from the thoughts that provoke pain Free from anxiety and free from shame.
I write because I can And without a fee, For writing is so special As it gives me glee. I know I’m not great But I’ll do my very best, And when you see me coming Don’t let it be like the rest.
Dreams to me are... The world within a world, Is a story that never gets old. As time alternates inward and outward, My third eye connects the invisible cord. Thoughts begin to gather as a sea of buzzing flies,
I am Woman I have no power and I no longer believe that I can make a difference It is true that I am silenced And no more I achieve Freedom I am Woman
You may believe everything is perfect To me its just another smile to put on One struggle to the next is happening fast And it all started when I was eight.
Why do I find you striking? Is it your beaded eyes similar to an owl? Your wit and intelligence? Or even your taste in fashion?
Unspoken words are very powerful words Words that go without say But hold strong meanings in the array of thoughts These are my Unspoken Words To you I may look like I got it all
Let's fall asleep, Have wonderful dreams, And never wake up. Let's take a walk, Have an adventure, And never come back. Let's cry a tear, Have one sad day, And never cry again.
Day goes by without knowledge of it Day goes by just living it Day goes by doing what we know and love Day goes by doing what we can to stay who we are
I have thoughts that I often don speak I just keep them all inside not wanting anyone to know the real me, I write to express, to voice, to vent, with emotions that cant be seen like i'm living life behind tint.
Life has become to stray Wanting to go away forever and a day On time for the first bus ride Just because you are trying to hide You left because your parents hate Honestly they didn’t want you to become bait
This beast inside has been trying to get out for months now. It has been trying to rip me apart just so it can cause damage to the world.
I write poems because it expresses me! So I don't sit there and think of rhyming words Because the words that comes from the inner in are the words that are Me! Yea, you might think that isn't poem.
Lost! Alone! I wish I could die! Scream the minds of the pawns with elongated chains Attached to their wrists, ankles, and minds Release us, we beg you! Oh please, release us!
Potato chips are really good, Really good for me, But not for the guy who makes them. Working to satisfy my hunger, Never give a thought to who eats them, A hard job for him, an easy job for me.
Life experiences shaped me but ain't mold me Till this day, I still remember what people told me Told me I'd never be anything I'd never rise But now as I look, I see there's a part of me missing
What is race? Does it tell us what to like? Does it determine our future actions? Or is it simply just something that pigeonholes us to carry the weight of the actions of our ancestors?
So who said little girls weren’t worth it? Who ever said there was no such thing as superheroes?
When thousands of thoughts go through my head When the everyday pace ceases to end I close my mouth and open my heart I write out the panic and all of the pain This domino effect brings rushed worries and thoughts
You ask me why I write? I write because I am mortal I write because time is mine enemy you ask why I write? my name may not be remembered my words may not live on yet I still write
I've been wanting to cry. Wanting to let it all out. but I need not punch and pout Or to just scream and shout. Inside I dive into a flow. More gentle than a stream. where my rhymes just row,
Poetry is the foundation of the universe. It is the flow that moves rivers and streams along. It is the ground that laughing children run and play upon. It is the melody and harmony of the music that graces our ears.
I'm so lost with you that I can do without you One day I'll forget you like I never even knew you Go away, disappear I'll no longer shed these tears
Approached Seventh to the eighth, may kids will turn to faith, Fall school semester has begun, and there’s no where left to run slammed into my seat for the summer is done, we whip out our pencils and there’s no more fun
Paint the sky black because I'm never coming back and I don't want to see you again It was wrong the things you said are playing back inside my head I can't forget I can't let go
in this endless confusion of wonder oh i wonder, i do wonder where your heart beats where this love meets how can i believe that we were meant to be if you aren't even here with me? left to wait
You're so sad, your tears illuminate a dreariness that words can't describe, you're so angry, the wrath of your fury is something you can't hide.
Tell your haters Thank you and your supporters For being Mr. and Mrs. Literal Takes courage to speak one's mind Voices whether positive or negative Celebrate, rejoice in your own vibes
The sweet melody rings in my ears It touches my soul and it is sweet like sugar and honey It sends it golden notes flying through the air. It falls like rain on my soul, softly falls
I think i was eight when i started to appreciate a new world that had monsters, and dragons, and dungeons. It was colorful when i felt colorless insightful when i felt blind there when i wasn't
When thoughts weren't enough, I turned to you. When no one would listen, I turned to you. When no one understood, what my heart has been through I'd open this book, and I'd write to you.
I wrote, to make them happy I wrote, as recompense for being born
When life seems to be passing by I new I couldn't let my memories fly The beautiful sparkling water, the green trees, the views The pains in this life, the trials, the hard times, the times of pure determination
Eighteen years, wow, it's almost here The moment we have looked forward to all our lives So close that we can reach it with the tips of our fingers Apprehensive, yet excited, we're starting our lives soon
I recall being in grade school sitting at my desk while my teacher read these words to me, they were cool flowing and piecing together so well, certainly not a mess
I write to express when theres no one left to understand, I write to those that are in the same postion as me wondering if anyone else could feel their pain, and understand their shame.
As a dancer, my dance teacher created this motto of some sorts On the back of our dance t-shirts it read "Why do I dance? Why do you breath?"
I write about the moments in life That are too complex for the spoken word, And I write to dissect every problem That I can't bear to inflict upon a friend. I write to express the misunderstood beauty
He writes, because sometimes...his pen and his piece of paper, are the only things he can heal through his words After advice from everyone else's life has left his lips...last pennies given to the poor
I write because the only letters written by them written on my own skin Every scar a lesson I taught myself not wanting to depend upon anything else My spoken words never coming out as I thought
Why is this even a question? Are you a boy? Are you a girl? Gay, straight, bi, transgender? Does it truly matter?
I walk down the street With pain tearing my heart. It feels like I have a hole, pierced by a dart. It starts to rain.
I write to express the things I will never say. My thoughts of grief and joy. I write those feelings that others are wont to deny. I write when I feel broken, broken to where I am not certain of who I am.
My actions… Draw me judgment from those I love and those I don’t Can’t always match the true feeling of my heart Are limited by my physical body
I need your love. Why don’t you love me? Is it because I’m hateful? I need your love. Why don’t you love me? Is it because I’m fat?
Am I gay? Homosexually or Happily which one? Answer the question Help me see what you see I feel like i have a choice here A choice so strong others may have to see it for me
These hands of mine Carry the burden given by us all The labor of surviving in the wild concrete jungle Demonstrates itself in the form of sweat trickling Pores widening, opening itself up to the world
Swelling and beating when I think of you It's as if I envision you here fingers tangled and all My heart selfishly desires to be melted with yours Past heartaches never mend and for a boy his heart never bends
Onion Peeling As I write poems, me myself is being peeled. One poem by one, I find my true voice. Going deeper and deeper, I find my identity. Like onion being peeled, I dive into my world.
Clock As the tail drops, I listen quietly yet sadly. How well it flows. What makes the time go? The sound of footsteps tells me people are coming. What does time hint? What is it that comes?
There was a guy once. I thought I was in love with him. And when he surprised me with a breakup text, And my friends didn’t care to ask me about my feelings, I decided to write.
There will be a day when you ignore someone you loved dearly. There will be a day when you will never see who use to be your best friend. There will be a day when you smile along with your worst enemies.
There will be a day when you ignore someone you loved dearly. There will be a day when you will never see who use to be your best friend. There will be a day when you smile along with your worst enemies.
In this life we are all led by love; love from your parents and from their parents above. In this life we are all given some type of chance to revel in pomp or overcome circumstance. But in this life I do declare, many things are simply unfair.
The many drops of rain Each splash forms a tiny circle Call that the spiral of human livelihood It expands so vastly with extreme celerity It's as if it expanded to the point
One slip up on the mic And now your a clown A target for mockery and a face bright with shame Your career is a trap Every word criticized with the utmost ignorance waiting to be ended in a wrap
The Sound of Thunder cracks On the back of her chest This ex-con yelled louder mightier Than any Lion could roar Yet when all is said and done, done and said, she still is the same
Some days, there's a hole within: a gaping mouth, a wailing baby, an empty gnawing hole. Its crying maw draws me in, want to hold it, want to forget, want to feel the rain
Abnormal, poor, weird words I hear daily Growing up poor wasn’t a choice; wishing it was a choice Each day I struggle looking over my should, hearing them laugh, Avoiding the landlord, rents overdue.
Once upon a time there lived a boy Raised in neutral conditions Had a favorite toy Didn’t have a lot of thing That he could enjoy Always been creative And would never destroy He grew up
My mind is broken full of tears a never ending storm of stress and anger. My brain a continuous rain cloud My mental and emotional state is shattered beyond repair.
Nevertheless the sweat drip drip dripping From the anaerobic exercise Of running while holding the sparkling Red in your gut Serial killers relentless as they appear But hide between their crotch
I used to pray for times like this graduation day upon us the people we used to diss we miss the people that were a little different the ones who were a little less significant we wanna be there but we cant
What is this thing, that we call Love? An undying smile, Of enternal youth? An endless spring. Never to be knew, Never to be found. For when the world realizes, This simple truth.
At a young age words were power to me. Even if I never understood the meaning, the bigger the words the better they sounded. Focusing all that I was, am, and will be into each dynamic phrase.
Unrelenting tears of muscle That reshape itself and this is labeled as getting in shape To endure such tears you need hustle Hustle to finish what you have started
Pause Now go back to living Like my dad did on rice and grits Lost many and gained few to none new buddies I don't call them friends Trust and depend on them first To rip apart my back and front
PAIN IS A stab in the back Is Worse than being stabbed in the front Why? It is similar to being blindly robbed by friends Accepting it without leashing white fury
Life is dictated in Time's court So fuck around all you want Time will come and strip your selfishly selfless conceited joys Gavel slammed to a sentence of eternal damnation You to an eternity of never ending
So, we can live deliberately can't we? Finding our missing piece Missing piece of love and hope Hidden within the deep well of a heart Desolated once our purpose is completed
Hear and animate the next line Breathing like each breath may be the last one Sensational beats within that body Til...Dead God blew breath into us Gave two legs Two ears, Two eyes, and Two arms
Zero worries about my fate for it is predestined It does not mean it is alright to sit and wait for presents Rather wasting time is wasting potential and life is thus compressed
I write to clear my head. I write to clear the air. I write so I can know what happened even if I wasn't there. I write in the morning and sometimes when I eat.
Why do I write? Seems a silly question. I write because I read. Nobody knows the beauty Of a blank page, Where anything can happen. Someone can be anyone. Teen girls solve mysteries,
Following my footsteps down this dirty road again Full of broken dreams and memories I can't let this happen again I will be strong, I will fight I won't let you win again, tonight
I am so young but yet I feel so old The sun sits high but yet I feel so cold Sometime I question the route I chose I question what it is that I behold I wonder how things would unfold
Plagued with infidelity She fornicates in rhythms and melody Driven by jealousy In search of intimacy so she lies next to him She says it isn’t love but she says it wasn’t lust
Words, they have many powers, We ignore their strength. They keep us safe in our towers, But yet, they can destroy as well. All in the verbiage of those that use them For good or ill we see their consequences.
For my whole being To come forth along paper Expression by pen.
Poetry is like a window Where nothing is hidden The transparency of it all Makes you go the far distance To show your true emotion Feels like your floating in an ocean The ease of your mind
Wish it was possible to be Frankenstein Except I wouldn't go around digging for limbs. Instead I’ll take a couple traits, piece em together to make my him. I’d take his intellect and smile. Even his soft spoken ways
Here it comes Then there it goes It came into my life when I needed it most
Mind, heart, pen and pad are the main ingredients. Easiest way to fight off my silent demons. My fave way to organize whatever I'm scheming.
Being different is scary. when you don't act like every one else, people judge you. but today I say I am proud of being different! I don't care if people call me names, i know my true friend love me for me.
Never get lost in the maze of making others happy, you may lose your own happiness in the process. No need to look, search, or wander, simply glance in the mirror, and look within yourself.
Poor girl, I see how you hurt. Set against you is your own life, Gives you so much struggle and strife. You're pushed facedown into the dirt.
The future is so uncertain Although there are days that it’s all I think about. Where will I be? What will I be doing? & more importantly who will be there? It’s crazy…
My closest friends are not my best friends or just my friends... my closest friends are not like me, but different intheir own ways... Their differences are what make them my friends...
Poetry translates the words in my heart, feelings I hold inside longing to come out, I write because it is my way to fight, these words are the pits into my deepest feelings, an escape from this world,
Reaching out to others in need, Eager to honor, serve, and keep Secrets of others, either family or friend, Privacy regarded, helping hands to extend. Etiquette minded, impeccable manners,
Delicate swans Clutched tightly by man's grip Forbidden to fly.
Gliding along the wooden planks As coals of emerald Kindled his face I caught a glimpse of a transfiguration. Soft winds swept up my cotton skirt Past polished shoes and mounds of earth.
Write me the reason why I write when this felt tip pen touches the paper back when in six grade when was not able to speak how I truly fell about your smile. All the emotions on paper in red and pink ink.
No one can know about this secret. This grotesque secret. It's become a hobby. Something done daily. Something that is yearned. Something that can become addictive.
Writing is my art, it is the way I sing when my pen moves, I spread my wings flying high above the Earth, the written word has me lifted my writing is magical;I feel truly gifted
Relationships are like glass, fragile and always threatening to break. Relationships are like a bloody warzone, you rarely ever escape unscathed. Relationships are like rocks,
tippity tap clickity clack fingers fly over the keys the pen brushes the page flowing boxy words form words that pour from the soul words that march from the heart My dreams and failures
Each sunrise highlights this ongoing battle of relapse and recovery In a world overruled by a constant roar of gunshots outside your window, It's hard to not check under your bed every night for monsters
I’m freeing the mind of a unspoken truth. Hands made free to move Eye’s not restricted to the structure of grammar Error is excepted and no longer matter Speaking words that were restrained from plot of speech
I opened my eyes To see a world unknown. Colors dancing Ideas Singing Blowing my mind to bits. I look at the new world This world where I am Free To be Me. To imagine
I went to a dance one night on the Queen Mary in May where the ocean kissed the ship the same way the guests tip toed on deck that was adorned with pearl necklaces of lights
She’s broken. Broken into so many pieces from everything she has ever been through. Her heart cries out for a helping hand, but the tears just continue to flow like a waterfall. She’s terrified.
First glance of eyes opening, Learned life while running, Sorrow through the times hoping, Eyes closing soft and slowly
Behind her smile, there’s a child with enormous dreams and improbable chances of reaching them. Behind her smile, is a mother that struggles to make ends meet every month.
If only you would let me love you the way that you need to be loved, You would see that I can fill your heart with the passion and tenderness that has been so brutally deprived from you soul.
To be heard when I can't speak. To tie words with rhythm. To not have to make sense to anyone but myself. This is why I write. To influence others. To give glory to God.
I write to express To give birth to fantasies To show the real me My secretes only paper can see Keep the pain away, Keep my mind sane I write
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.
We stumbled into love in September So, we belong to autumn Therefore our hearts must fall. And after months of sun kissing those summer rays become colder Nights are stretching Fear creeps into my sheets,
The immature habits make a grown girl cry, Half a smile covering a shameful lie, Eager deception like those of the black pearl curse,
Build a wall around yourself. Barricaded like the ancient cities of Rome. Walking through the halls quietly with these words spinning through your head. Knitting a scarf so intricately bound expressing the sorrow of that day.
Some people buy those books, That are found at those stores. The books are hidden in nooks, And in cracks in the floors.
Walking down the aisle of a store. She is pushing the cart. And receives crude looks. Stares that make people think they’re better. They aren’t.
I am poetry, poetry is me. My life is a poem, written in reality. My emotions are the topic, my struggle is the comma.
They claimed they saw the small thing with four legs, Like plant, it absorbs from its environment, It fell and wondered as its stares at tree of life,
At age seven the boy's heart beats, at age twenty his heart bleeds. Died in peril, not in vein, the young man's heart feels no pain.
Everyone I know can vouch that I have a mutant’s mind. Conversations end in judgmental gazes, Soaked in awkward silences, My cranium throbs,
Searching for things that I never had Guess my life really aint that bad If I get lost inside my head Numb this brain and leave me dead We'll go outside and have some fun Lay in the sun and make some love
Hello, goodbye My, time sure will fly Many people come, many people go Either in large, wide groups or on on their own, solo Feeling very ecstatic, feeling unfortunate and sad
I am from gravel, From chrysanthemums an lilacs I am from the smell of gasoline and the taste of blood From the water faucet hiding behind the fence I am from the mossy, jagged rocks Engulfed by woods
Why do I write? I write so that our thoughts will then become a voice, A voice of power, reason, and of meaning, A means of expression that allows me to rid of my feelings,
I wish I could tell you exactly how I feel, but not even the Stars can explain what are hidden deep within these veins. Why do you not see? What you mean to me. I dare to sin all because of you. I smile all because of you.
I wish I could tell you exactly how I feel, but not even the Stars can explain what are hidden deep within these veins. Why do you not see? What you mean to me. I dare to sin all because of you. I smile all because of you.
I fast from everything save you. You are the morsel I am given daily and am grateful for. I draw you into my mouth like a small fish and you take my tongue, the bait I have laid for you.
Day by day, my love seems to inflate You’re the brightest star under my sunlight. I’m convinced you lingered to me by fate Like late night stars, your presence shines so bright.
The tick of the grandfather clock is absent. No clicking, no sirens alerting those nearby, nothing. Time has stopped, life ceases to continue.
Suddenly My tongue is in knots My heart isn’t beating, my blood was in clots My mind was a treasure, not laden in thoughts But I’m lost with no map and I can’t connect the dots And I’m struggling
Ive found my world and theres only you in it fell in love in just 1 minute always and 4ever ill b true because whats u without me? whats me without u?
Poesía eres tú y yo. Poesía es la luz como la oscura. La risa vivida hasta la muerte sufrida. Poesía nos conecta a los dos. Esto no es poesía, es solo un simple gesto sin gesto, o tal ves,
Late in the evening when the Magnolia tree stops blowing; The smell of sweat and hate emerges; Sounds of incoherent flour men singing the day's events.
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 MAY SMILE AND LAUGH IN THE INSIDE BUT IN REALITY IM BROKEN IN THE INSIDE LOOKING FOR A CHANCE OF DAYLIGHT IN LIFE AND TRYING TO HAVE A BETTER LIFE HOW I PROMISED TO FAMILY.
(every word that runs through my brain. but will never show for myself for my action for every word. but every moment i take is for you my love. ur the motivation and sigh and emotion i can take out in a piece of paper.
Fond I am of restful thought during the wee hours of dark nights. Closing lids of flesh to bring visions in to sights. To no avail remaining sightless of vivid delights in mind.
The glass between us is deep A clear light into my life You could see in and she could see out Still no sound was exchanged Words stayed on tongues Eyes tried to glimpse but never cough the others
Writing is my getaway, Whenever I have a bad day. Pen to page all day long, To bleed it out and make me strong. Rising to the top. Just keep going; never stop. Excited, sad, Happy, mad;
Hand. Hands touching. Oh, how I long for his touch. To feel the warmth of his body, as he caresses me. Soft, gentle, kind. Begging for your lips upon mine. Fluid motion, perfect rhythm.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, In my heart, it is a simple matter. Or soul, the brain, the mind; Whichever you believe does the chatter. We paint it in red, purple, white, Some even coat it in blue
Poetry defines what I am It allows me forms of expression Poetry is what I am It is my personal show of emotion
Wrenched from the insides, pulled without any meaning, just words then. Anyone can have ‘just words.’ Dug out from silent, sad shells and exposed to worldly light, see the beauty
The rush that i feel when i suit my pads up its better than any pill better than any drug my helmet goes on my chinstrap gets strapped my mind is gone i think its taking a nap
Without you I’m like a bird without wings Grass that’s not green Trees naked, no leaves. Without you I'm like a song without depth Cheesy lines not in cards The sky with no stars
Cut me open Lay me bare My beating heart I give to you Beneath these lights On this stage I flay myself before you Nothing is held back Nothing will be left In this small time
My want to be a hero drove me to this art form called poetry An infestation of ungifted lyricist has has seeped into hip-hop and they are growing uncontrollably
If you were to ask me how I was introduced to poetry, I couldn’t tell you… It was as if it’s always been there to cure my needs, like the colors of an oak tree, or the majesty of an evening sunset.
Most say it is just words. Others say it's just for fun. Some just hear roars That leave it undone...
Tell me what to do Tell me what to say Shut my lips with glue Ignore me everyday Never able to act Always hiding Lying to hide the fact That I feel unsatisfying
I do not speak, 'cus my words go unheard, I do not move, 'cus my actions go unseen. I do not cry, 'cus my tears show weakness. I do not laugh, 'cus my smile is stagnant. But I write.
A picture is worth a thousand words, Yet to craft your speech is a revered skill, I can go out now and capture birds, In a picture atop some hill, But to express what weighs down my mind,
It smells like death, if death had a smell She felt a soft breeze while tears streamed down her face. She stood there not knowing how to feel, Not knowing what to say. What she did feel was lost, empty, numb
Written Memories Of The Soul This is just my point of view It might be a different definition for you But my eyes see what they see So I'll Tell You What Poetry Is To Me
The first to know The last to cry. The greatest smile The worse way to die.
When the sky is blue or gloomy or see through I see through to the truth and the moon when I zoom Eyes big like an owl as I'm prowling about With my pen in my hand I am never without
They asked, "Will, why do you write?" -Because of my struggle, because of my fight and the yelling/screaming I hear at night for the same Micheal Jordan took flight same as the theory why the sun is so bright
Life is about power. The ebb and the flow, those that come and those who go, We all have power inside, but never enough to feel happy when we go to sleep at night.
It's too hot, It's too cold, I'm tired, I don't want to go. All excuses to escape and hide from your fears and failures but what is really the thing
poems help release the stress the pain the hurt and lonleyness it keeps me happy and sane thank you writing my stories and poems filling books and pages with heart felt word I need to get out
(poems go here) Living, breathing Seeking, seeing I am I no matter what the case Poetry has always been my face No matter what your race You can express yourself through a poem
(poems go here) My pen sculpts a future Potential to work and to enjoy with one job My pen sculpts a dream Hope of proving my father wrong that writing is dead
I always saw the good in good bye Because I hated saying hello I knew that people’s duty in life was just to come and go.
I write so I won't forget about you , I write when there's nothing else to do , the paper doesn't judge me or look at me strange when I'm myself. I write to be heard and listened to ,
One must think express live never rest fight be strong pursue push on
Love; verb~passionately caring, intensely tearing hearts out of chests, putting them back together giving minds some rest. quickly pairing couples bearing troubles from their lives.
(poems go here) I wish to be a poet Written songs on a note My inner thoughts Of how I fought To right the wrong In a sweet song Rhyming and timing In tune with The moon
I see the Eleanor Rigbys and Gilbert Grapes everywhere I go, The people who forgot long ago to See beauty in people laughing, sunflowers shooting up Out of the ground. There are people who have never heard a canary
I saw him once in my entire life, I was nine, I still remember how he looked like, Nothing like how I imagined, Wearing an old navy blue cap, The smell of dirt and oil rubbed off him,
To give in within the social norms and forget how we were before would be asking the impossible, creating the identity, masked hide the dignity, and forget the past.
To the untrained eye I am flat static innocent simple. For the naïve I have nothing to give or teach or say because they see nothing and know not what to look for.
If you saw the me I am Instead of the me I wear You wouldn’t believe me If you saw the brokenness and tears Instead of the smiles and joy You wouldn’t like me
I write for no other reason than I hate that blinking line with its taunting Disappearance And reappearance Its ability To Be And Not to be And then be again.
Not gonna write you a love song I'd rather write you poetry Put thoughts to paper and call it a symphony Let me words travel along the page And proclaim you as my melody Beautifully sculpted and crafted
My voice is heard I don't even have to say anything and my voice is heard It is why I write Every opinion Every position Every cause Every concern Every prayer It can be expressed here
I didn't start on a stage. And i never could have guessed id be into poetry at a young age. I grew up with finger painting kids, The delinquents who chose popularity over education and the bully's.
Poetry. It’s one word that can say many things. It can express someone’s feelings. It can show someone’s pain. When it comes to poetry, anything can be said.
I write to be free, to express my pain I write to tell thoughts that drive me insane I write with joy, love, and care To describe what is fair and unfair To tell my tale of who I am
They say the eyes are a window to the soul. The painter’s creation is a reflection of the heart. Well my words are the expressions of my mind. When my nights would be so cold and my temper so hot.
I scold you knowing the truth So this is one big escapade ? Nights of in depth talks Were those antics ? Three hundred sixty five days of anxiety to be closer Nothing but complete buffoonery, right ?
My Brain, I want to shoot it. My heart, I want to cut it. For my feelings I don't want to feel one bit. When these two things fight it out, it's hard to hear which one is screaming out loud.
(poems go here) The biggest mystery of my whole life? Knowing the one who was responsible for creating me. You see, I'm a wreck.