I've been having quite the dry spell of poetry lately. Wasn't until just a few minutes ago, I came up with what I felt was decent enough to post. Hope you enjoy these.
It may be too late,
to find someone.
But it's never too late,
to be alone.
Who knows?
Maybe you'll find your own home.
And maybe you'll find out,
who you are.
Find out what you like that's near,
find out what you like that's far.
And maybe you can seek,
and see what you don't need.
Ask yourself what makes you weak,
and see where a path of strength leads.
Young writer,
and becoming artist,
grow to be a revolutionary or fighter,
ranging from serious life to satire.
So do what you do best,
whether agreeing or debating.
And after your journey, you'll realize,
a certain someone will always be waiting.
Here's the other.
Black, static.
You now remember when...
A memoir, a slide show,
of how you were treated back then.
Naked, vulnerable.
An image pulls your hair.
So cold, so helpless,
you shiver as if you were there.
Shaken, surprised.
Bruised are your shoulders, arms, head.
You didn't understand,
why would such a little girl, wish to be dead?
Guilty, terrified.
The thought so paralyzing,
to stand up for yourself.
You freeze, the fear hypnotizing.
Alone, nervous.
You try to become someone other,
you leave to live a new life,
but of course you still love your mother.
Yeah, my mom.
It's so insane, how you forget about all the abuse, but when you remember it all again, it really is painful. Like, I was literally shocked while just sitting in bed, thinking about it. I couldn't believe that happened to me. It's like I don't even remember being a kid. But I guess sometimes that's a good thing.
He's caring, considerate,
he'll listen to what you have to say.
He's funny, he's charming,
he could make anybody's day.
He's loaded with personality,
not just that, but looks too.
His soft honeysuckle hair,
and his big, icy blues.
You could be the most beautiful,
manicured from your toes to your hands,
but he really just wants someone to hold,
someone to just listen, someone that understands.
Will you be there for him?
It's not too much to ask.
Just hear him out, let him express an opinion,
and you'll both have happiness that will last.
NOTE: I don't really like the ending. I may work on that. hmm But other than the shitty ending, I like the rest. I am pleased.
My child,
my sweet Sarah,
the clipped seraph,
stay strong.
I know I've moved,
so far away,
and your troubles never seem at bay,
but I want you to know I love you.
Keep your eyes blue,
from gift, not tears.
I'll see you again, sometime next year,
to stroke your soft hair again.
So beware my friend,
careful of this dangerous world,
I know how hard it is, to be a girl.
Always stay strong, my sweet Sarah.
Originally posted by Syren
Selphie, I know we don't know one another too well but if you ever need to rant and for someone to listen, I'm happy to do so ✅
Thank you Syren, that's so kind of you. The exact same for me, if you need someone to talk to, I'm always here to listen. 😊
Originally posted by Scythe
Your friends are very lucky to have you in their lives Selphie.
Thanks, same goes to you babs. Loves ya.
Wrote this, this morning.
I wish you the best,
but what if I told you,
this was just a test,
of my own self control?
You may think I have no soul,
but if only you could understand,
I feel so guilty,
I feel so damned.
Has the clock has stopped ticking?
I see no grains of sand.
I hate for you all to see me,
with such dirty, stained hands.
These walls and homes always seem to move,
whenever I wish for somewhere to lean.
Your eyes explain it enough to me,
oh, how I utterly hate to be seen.
I wish this was a dream,
but this nightmare, I cannot awake.
Please tell me earlier deaths,
can escape their inevitable fate.
Alright ladies and gents, here's my first try at an erotic poem. Hope you like it, I enjoyed writing it.
I wish I could lie,
and purr all day in bed.
This miraculous release,
has brought joy to my head.
The tickling sensitivity,
brought by the first touch.
How it streams and makes you smile,
how it branches and makes you blush.
Wet, but warm,
smooth but soft.
How your body looks so beautiful,
removed of all cloth.
So much skin to explore,
but your fingers find their way,
to a place that feels like heaven,
and they dare not to stray.
Pleasure's breath tickles your ears and neck,
and coos sweet truth, not lies.
It grabs you by your locked knees,
and runs tension filled fingers up your thighs.
An arch of the back,
a buck of the hips.
A gasp, a moan,
passes through your lips.
Faster, harder, faster,
almost like pain, but sheer peace.
Let all of it build up,
and feel the ecstatic release.
Wrote this one's intro a week ago or two, and just finished it up today.
He said, "Fly straight, little sparrow!",
and I sure did.
I flew and sang,
my freedom I never hid.
I would spread my wings,
and let the warm wind brush my face.
I was calm and let the sun embrace me,
removing me, without a trace.
They always said it was quite the spectacle,
to see me fly and soar.
I always thought it was a spectacle,
to see them still on the floor!
I would open my mouth,
and a melody would bounce and flee.
And before I knew it,
others would hum and whistle with me!
I was young and naive back then,
trying to make the world a happy place.
But nothing made me feel better,
than putting a smile on someone's face.
Same time tomorrow,
for I was now in need of some rest.
Together we'll sing and fly again,
but now all this sparrow needs is her nest.