All posts filed under: Poetry

Beyond My Reach

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Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:
BEYOND MY REACH With my hand stretched to the sky I cannot touch the stars so high, Nor the clouds, a falling star, or the sun going down. The wind, I cannot grab hold, a bird in flight, A dream in the night, never a yesterday. Beyond my reach is not my dreams, It is not that which I pray for. The hand of god I cannot touch, in my heart I can surely take hold, It is not hope, nor faith, it is not a tomorrow. Beyond my reach are many things, Beyond my reach is not everything. Keith Garrett

Poetic Love

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Originally posted on vinnylanni:
She fell in love with my words. I couldn’t compete. My stories, poetic flow, and ability to ignite emotion in others held her a captive to my craft. My words are my catalyst; the perfect muse to manipulate her mind, make her fall in love, with me; if she only knew of my intentions. The way I can press ink to paper made me worth something. In her world, she saw my beautiful letters in-coherence, stories of love, and fictional tales of our future beyond the page before she spoke real words to me. Poetry can help land a dream girl, a beautiful one too; I’m different; most guys don’t write. And she’ll adore me for my talent, until she realizes, my ink speaks of non-fiction, and I’m more than an emotion-soaked white blue-lined page on the inside.

Not Enough Time in the World

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Some of us were shoved out into the world with part of our egg shells stuck to our backs, not yet fully hatched. There is not enough time in the world for healing. There is not enough time in our lives to figure out what was and is being done to us; to figure out how much of it is self-victimizing and how much of it is true; or if the truth has forced us to become accustomed to being the victim. To then identify the great parts of who we are and discard the bad. To then take the bad and see how much of it is part of us. How much of it can we change when it’s the reason we have survived. To then re-define what “bad” is. There is not enough time to fix ourselves. While we are in a constant state of repair, those who were born with great families and good incomes are ruling the world. Their world. While we live in ours. While we wish for their lives. From…

Perhaps We Rather Choose To Start Again

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Originally posted on CELONA'S BLOG:
How do you restart something that had never been turned off?Veronica Rossi, …it’s called a new start friend …few more bold steps and the air is fresh again Moving forward and not looking back This is all I hope you have got going for you As time won’t wait for none of us So I suggest you start again friend!! Ensure all your tentacles stretches out wide And your shadow reaches beyond its right So we wouldn’t watch our day just go by You know time waits for no one I suggest you start again!! Passionless; Low; Below everyone else Below the radiance of others and a faint shadow But you know dead people still have shadows right? You shouldn’t allow your fears gain unnecessary momentum That at least should make some sense You lost you in the morning And caught up with forgotten wishes in your dreams; I don’t speak for you! But this salient words are for those who forgot to dream No wonder you wish you…

Listen, when the silence speaks.

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Originally posted on A Monologue of the Heart.:
  Listen, when the silence speaks It’s not in words that which you seek It lives in the quiet of the dawn And in the sunset once it’s gone It comes uncovered in the night When darkness sets, embracing light Listen, when the silence speaks It’s not in words that which you seek

Yellow Eyes

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Originally posted on Every Life is a Memoir:
Freeimages.com/Ilker Yellow eyes creep out of the night Eyes glow in the perilous darkness Silky black fur glistens in droplets of moonlight Velveted paws glide over the forest floor without a sound Sharp shoulders stop suddenly Eyes widen Muscles twitch and ripple like a secluded lake recently disturbed Ears focus like radar on a battleship All is still. A tail flicks in anticipation as a driver would rev his engine before a race A flutter in the trees – the starting gun has been fired A lunge A crash as weak branches and wet leaves give way A flash of death in the moonlight Silence Yellow eyes sulk back into the night

I’m Indecisive.

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Originally posted on Of life she writes.:
I’m indecisive. Because last time, I told myself I needed a break. Last time, I told myself that I could do it on my own. That I was fine alone and that I didn’t need anyone For anything. And then he came along and showed me why I was lying to myself. He came along and gave me companionship. He gave me love He gave me friendship and warmth and bliss. But he also gave me disappointment and insecurities and a feeling of self doubt. He was a rose. Roses have thorns. And I got cut trying to move the roses into the vase by my bedside table. My fingers started bleeding and the pain did not fade. So here we are. One question, and only my answer. I’m afraid. ? I’m exhausted. I’m not sure. Sure, I like plenty of flowers and plenty of flowers would love to sit in the vase beside my bed. But my trauma comes from pain and I’m just starting to see…