131 results for 'poetry'
Oh what a tedious, mind-numbing day of endless thoughts. Should I? Should I not? Would I, if I were 20 years younger or would I not?
But does it really matter much anyway? No matter the number of steps forward I take to connect, I find myself wanting to step back, almost as if never moving forward at all. But am I not supposed to keep hope alive?
Tick tock. The clock moves on.
And here I am no different than I was a moment ago...or was it 10 years ago? I really can't seem to tell much difference.
Sometimes time moves. Sometimes I'm not quite sure. I think the light... (more)
I can't take one more step towards something I just simply don't believe in anymore.
Today, I learn to live appreciating what I see, what I feel and knowing that love is an explosion of sentiments, experiences and questions that often have no answers.
I hear you pushing me to explain why I can't say, "I am in love with you."
But what answer have I to bring when the words are mere illusions to me?
How can I fathom what the touch of this sentiment brings if I can not relate to the words, the moments in time that have never past the door of my soul?
What more... (more)
What is the use?Oh how I lament this need!We need more hoursNot less!This robber of oursSteals our momentsBy silent slumberNot so silent snoringBoring Boring BORING!(more)
I do not yet understand what I feel.
I can not possibly fathom what stirs inside me or even give it a name.
Someone passing by may call it love. But who can really be sure? And who really knows?
Throughout our lives, love is seen and felt and heard and soaked up in most areas of our hearts, our souls, our minds.
So, is this same love now in the very fiber of what makes me who I am today?
Is it worth truly exploring?
With a lump in my throat, I try to find ways to preoccupy my time.
I look, I listen, I read all that I can without allowing my mind... (more)
To increase the appreciation of poetry in the U.S., National Poetry Month was introduced by the Academy of American Poets in 1996. In fact, former President Bill Clinton declared in a Presidential Proclamation that "we need more artists to imagine the best future for us and remind us what is good and constant in our past."
With this in mind, I encourage the great writers of Broo to bare their souls in poetic excellence. To begin with a bit of poetic inspiration, one of my favorite poems that reminds me of the unendless needs life requires of us is as follows:
Stopping by Woods... (more)
At the nape of your neck.. my pale fingernails linger in thin curls
softly pressing you into my cheek..
your ear to mine..
around my shoulders you rest..
tender grazing on satin sheets..we wrap each other..
we hold and console
carefully concealing one another..
At times I am underneath you.. hiding and retreating, guarded, kept warm and protected
At times I become your wings..stretching myself wide on top of you..allowing you to float..to relax..to drift
we take turns lifting each other
we take... (more)
I think of you each month. No, more than that.
I think of you each week. No, No, more than that.
I think of you each day.No, No, more than that.
I think of you each morning As I wake,
And as I lay my head on the pillow. No, No, more than that.
I think of you with each breath I take.Now that is getting closer.
I think of you with each thought I have. Now that is exaggerating.
But I am definitely thinking of you!(more)
The winter is the time To rest and replenish My soul to prepareFor the intensity of springtime.
The winter is my time to be quietAnd listen to my soul.To hear it's quakening.To be mindful of it's fears.To forgive foibles.To welcome it's hopes with open joy.
The winter is time to go outsideAnd find that patch of undisturbed snow.Once finding it, Lie down facing the clouds.
Spreading my arms Like the wings of an eagleMoving them back and forth.
Then it is time to stand upAnd look down At my angel.
Winter is the timeTo take time to take timeTo have a little fun... (more)
Memphis Magdalene; a strip club owner's profitable dream.
Endorsed by the bottle companies that she hugs in-between her thighs..
Dirty Green paper dazzling like snow flakes..fall all around her..
A thorned halo, broken and twisted around her head...caught and kept by her matted white wig.
The corners of her eyes blackened and smeared by charcoal mascara, blending perfectly with her loosed expressionist glare.
Gray, plastic crucifix circles her neck...at each twirl..causing red streaks to bless her collarbone.
Her thin arms constrict and contort, winding... (more)
I am so torn by the thoughts and thorns that strip my soul and make my secrets known.
What will I do? What can I do?
I am naked among those with clothes.
Cold and forgotten is all I feel and know.
I am without voice as there are millions who are heard laughing and cackling on the wind that passes by.
I am alone.
I am in a chair.
I can go nowhere else until I do what I am told.
I am always told what to do.
I may never speak against what I am told.
I die a little more today.
I am loneliness and despair.
I weep... (more)