Yesterday is gone, Looking back there are things are would have re-done, There are no such things as tomorrow to correct the past, Time got waisted, Victory remains untasted, Many tears they cried and the wondered why and they wondered why. Depression fills the air, hearts to cold to care, inflicted by fear no one would ever dear, It’s too late right now, Songs of sorrow are the...
Sometimes imperfections are the best parts.
It’s funny how some adults say youth is wasted on the young not remembering that they were young once too. It’s not our fault that they probably wasted their youth and now want it back.. last time I checked my friends and I are having a great time (isn’t that how you’re supposed to spend your youth?) that’s not wasting it. Plus you’re only as young as...
Why is it that people alter themselves in order to achieve “beauty” rather than just accept themselves for who they are. Beauty cannot be defined and it comes in different shapes and forms. I guess it’s not easy to accept.
Feeling awkward, Contemplating the purpose, Of why I chose to be in this situation, The sun is coming out, The bright rays shine, Melting into the core of my soul, Melting through my flesh and my bones, Penetrating my front, Revealing me honest and true. Lying down conflicting thoughts pass through my head, Holding me captive, A victim of selfconsciousness, Unable to control the...
art= my food, life and definition <3
It really amazes and annoys me how people put art and creativity in a context and put guidelines and restrictions on a person’s diversity. I mean how can you tell someone that they are not creative when creativity is undefinable?
Dulce et Decorum Est ----> By: Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind. ...
It is the constant image of your face ---> By:...
It is the constant image of your face, framed in my hands as you knelt before my chair the grave attention of your eyes surveying me amid my world of knives that stays with me, perennially accuses and convicts me of heart’s- treachery; and neither you nor I can plead excuses for you, you know, can claim no loyalty my land takes precedence of all my loves. Yet I beg mitigation,...
This past week my poetry classes were really insightful. I guess you could say I somewhat developed a greater appreciation for poetry. Even as a poet I was kind of ignorant to how much work and passion and technique is put in to a great poem. How the writer uses diction, syntax and meter to convey a composition that can practically carry you on a whole new journey. The poet really has a great...
Poetry attempt (an original poetry piece by me)
Up at twelve, Another sleepless night, Contemplative thoughts are coming, Pencil and paper, Written word, A composition manifesting, Rhymes, metaphors, lyrics, Bouncing out my head, Creative juices pumping, While I lay in bed, Searching for inspiration, Looking from wall to wall, Trying to grasp the words, But none make sense at all, Waste of time and enery, This is such a diss, To...
be yourself everyone else is already taken– Oscar Wilde
great spirits have often encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds– Albert Einstein
ships are safest at the docks but that’s not what they are built for
Through blind eyes (an original poetry piece by...
Physically blinded yet still she could see, The slight fragments of reality, Unable to experience colours and tones, Yet still she viewed her life, As valuable, Seeing the world through eyes like those, Would make it all the better, Having a constant optimism and love for life, Is something we should all consider, What a privilege it must be, To have access to such ignorance, Use it to...