Poem by: Tatine Can't say a broken hello and
risk another perfect goodbye. Will my love just fade, Will it just move, Like wind dancing innocently across the florid sky? Will it just burst, Will I just hide, Or with the absence of candid light, Will the feelings slip through my ashen eyes? (Sent by Reader)
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Poem by: Tatine Fooled by my own tongue,
I am trapped; blinded by my own eyes, I am caught; deaf by own ears, I am lost; broken by my own heart, I am fooled, blinded and deaf. (Sent by Reader) Poem by: C.N I’m not happy with my life I always feel unloved I did what I can give But it seems not enough I’m gambling Between Death and Life It’s easy to pick But the result will be vicious (like what I am feeling right now) Death will be permanent… Life will be a continuous dying Tears, Scream My heart cries and screams. “I want to be free, I don’t want this burden anymore It’s making me hard to breathe…” It says “What are we going to do? I also don’t know the right ingredients to live They say family, But I don’t know if I still have them They say friends, But I don’t know if they’re real They say love, But I always got the wrong one My beloved ship is about to sink I tried to fix it But cure is not enough Pain buried inside Crimson soaked, And me lying Not breathing anymore Such a beautiful death. (Sent by Reader) Poem By: Tatine I swear this I meant it,
I am lost. Lost with the touch of your fingers as they run through my sleeping veins I swear this I meant it, I am trapped. Trapped with your dangerous gaze as it melts my blushing eyes I swear this I meant it, I am captured. Captured with your sweet ____ lips as they caress my shivering mine I swear this I meant it, I am gone. Gone as the fastened moments lingering. Like wind whispering. Like darkness invading. I swear this i meant it, I am gone. (Sent by Reader) Poem by: E.N Quitoriano I am God's draft,
something He was meaning to finish but got distracted in the process with rainbows and tulips, the birds and the bees, certainly the much more beautiful and riveting things. I was born three days late so I am always apologizing to other people for my tardiness but mostly to myself for constantly missing the good parts. The angel keeping an eye on me would have six fat books of the lies I've shamelessly spat out for almost two decades now and I wonder if they would let me stack them up so I could have even just a peek of what heaven looks like after Atlas finally decides to retire. I constantly think about death, tragedy and loss. Maybe it's because of my problematic playlist or the sick humor of my friends. Maybe it's just me trying to find meaning in everything but in the back of my head I can picture the philosophers howling in laughter. Maybe it's because they know I'm meant just to be a draft. I read somewhere that A work of art is never finished, only abandoned. (Sent by Reader) Poem By: Diomedes Omo Jr. |
AuthorMy name is Christelle and I like to read any kind of literary works. I will post here poems that I found from different places and I would lke to share them with you. Enjoy! :) Archives
October 2016
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