Discovery

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Sitting atop ruins Covering the rotting past I have found my own hideaway: This Hundred Acre Wood. To call my own.   Yes, it is far
Morning noon evening night Rise bathe feast and then I lie  Repraise with no end in sight I know the truth so i cry  Stagnation I don't want to lie here with you and die
Traveling is a part of who I am A search of me In a place I've never seen Weather buildings or the jungle I find myself in bundles I explore sandy beaches and towns where I am faceless
Dream Sand Yell, fail, break out of that worry filled jailSoar, write galore, soar some morePencil, no!
I come back to this town, And it is not I that has changed; But it.   The streets; They are empty.   The houses; They are dark.   The people; They are cold.  
Through the words flowing from this pen, almost seamlessly it feels, I have discovered what lies in the deepest corners of my mind, things I never imagined I could touch.   People have always told me,
Sometimes my heart doesn't fit in my  mouth Instead, meaningless words tumble out I wish the right phrases could roll off my tongue So how much you mean to me could become
Next year I will be able to look at you and see a distant memory All these broken pieces of you will be put back together Still cracked and fragmented But still one piece
Dear myself. Oh how we live without a will to. Live by the "I can't" and regretful "will do's". Stop to examine the terrain, to feel our toes on the mildew.   How we complete one another;
Dear friend,  How are you? I must confess, That mine eyes have not seen, Your beautiful tress.    Of green leaves, And long boughs,  And fresh, gentle touch.    I miss you, 
The man was young, his mind was sharp as could be expected of such a man at such a time, and his body had endured at least enough hardships to receive a curt nod from a seasoned veteran should such an encounter play out.
Tomorrow we shall go- leave before the dawn spreads out and finds the shadows untouched by light
A taken picture, attempted, failedCalled but a dreamWhat then comes of it…After the fact?My focus, my heart, perhaps the subject
I could not learn what I had to teach when I came to die, I dsicovered that I had not lived. I did not wish to love what was not life unless it was quite neccessary.
Take it easy Your mind is thin paper held up to the sun Through it shines colors the eye can’t even see, But you’re quick to burn too fast... Be mindful & burn slow...
The Pain of Death   There comes a time in everyone’s life When their hearts are filled with pain and strife Where they wish time would go back
There are no monsters in the closet-- Not yet. Because the fangs of friends have yet to be sharpened School is a land of heroes and misfits
Every day I discover what this world has to offer Every day I find my purpose Every moment spent finding my purpose, is a moment I truly discover who I am.
The way she walks transmogrifies My brain into soft clouds and kites When below is where reality lies Sweetly, strongly, in those silt brown eyes   Around those black river rocks, madsmoothed
Who am I? Am I just some short mexican girl? Or am I really a part of this world?  Am I just a hidden shadow in the corner? Or do I wait in a line to order? I am one person But I am more
VIR•GO n.
I dreamed of jumping beyond the realms of dirt and pavement-- to soar as far as the wind could take me. So I leapt. But once I reached that farthest point--the spot I once desired most, I came back.
  Knowledge New, Delightful Learning, Encouraging, Discovering Waking up to learn new things Power
One day is a dancing Gypsy all tinkling bengals  and swirling rainbows.   The next is a starving dire wolf icy grey, its bloody teeth bared.   I've heard I am not a land mine,
Dear Self, When you were 6 You yelled and yelled and your heart felt sad and confused because that boy embarresed you at school   So Self, when you were 10 you hit a wall
I feel confliced I feel lost I feel constricted Where have my hopes gone?    I have lost my guidence  I have lost my touch My heart and brain have a crashed alliance
My eyelids felt so heavy, that I wished again to be at home, and in my warm bed fast asleep. I did not wonder what the poet said, for it was not to me. I’d worked on my Medieval Literature project
Who am I? A question that has plagued for as I can recollect. I'm African. I'm Indigenous. I'm European. But who am I really? In my youth I would yearn for you, this knowledge of self.
Blink, and the delicate parachutes whistling             with white-spun dandelion seeds drift to form the rich parchment of             my thoughts,                         channeled  
It is still hard to believe,  But we are approaching an end of a journey  That we have walked on 
Johnny came to visit when I was nine He only had the chance to just that one time He still smiled as often as he always did But his smile seemed almost crooked I asked him why that was and he said:
Johnny came to visit when I was nine He only had the chance to just that one time   He still smiled as often as he always did But his smile seemed almost crooked I asked him why that was and he said:
Here but never seen Hide behind the camera I am a coward   Stuck in a small world Yearning for new adventures
Am I a Man Am I honest Am I emotional Am I young Am I human Am I alone Am I free Am I home Am I wise Am I ready Am I loving Am I suporting Am I helpful
You can see it. A grey mass with the weight of Universes. Skyward, we travel to lands beyond comprehension. Skyward, we travel back home. Skyward, we travel to the land
As I walk down the forest today, I look, look far deep in the forest pathway Only to see what I saw yesterday,
Are you feeling better now? If so, tell me how Tell me how you find it in you, in your mind To put aside everything you think And to see what you can find.   See if you can find the good in your heart
Corrosive stares deteriorate the fragile filter my fears create. This pseudo sense of normality, is a dam for my creative profligacy.   Beneath this exoskeleton of perfection
Poetry is
We all attempt to know ourselves. As people, we are born and the process begins. Exploration of body and mind, Blinking eyes and wiggling fingers and toes, We search for answers.
  Oh, the battles one fights in this life I was given
I stumble across beauty I smile only if you could see the world through my eyes you could   see just allow me express truth an artistic slueth   shall not forget not
A longing within the deepest of skin Flows like a heedless stream For there we were, distant but sure That all was like a waking dream   I gazed in eyes that analyzed Processing what I contained
The smile she wears maybe a mask 
I spend my nights driving And I don’t have my license Not even my permit But I spend my nights driving My soul rises out of its apparatus And it drives all night And into the morning
I went on a journey to find love,
So I am Living, breathing, moving, What for, who shall move me? I move myself, but why? I watch myself from time to time Watching in awe, who am I? I am no one, but really I am everyone.
My life is an underwater sea dive. Every exploration brings up new Discoveries.
I can't stay away.
Why walk on the pavement of conformity When I can enjoy the plush Earth's dewy grass? Ascending to uncharted skies, Where the thrill of discovery Is more than a balloon ride.
Love and pain. Loss and gain. New paths to take. Old friends again. Mother and father to hold your hand. An ex-best friend to take your man. A heart to break and a heart to have.
You never really cared, you just kept trudgin through all the blank stares. Got lost in the numbers, in the crowd was despair. We never really exactly knew what we learned,
A star shining so bright yet ignoredWaiting on a chance to be noticedWhile sitting in the background Watching as his chance fades away Something caught the star's attentionSomething beautiful and glistening
It shouldn't matter what color, clothes, or how we look.
A glimpse of another life can ruin youDreaming can create the most excruciating heartbreak  I had always been told not to put all of my eggs in one basketNot to count the chickens before they hatched
Life, Like the desert, Is bleak and harsh, Showing no mercy for those Who walk through it.   And yet if a man Can find it in himself, To look more closely at the desert
YOU
You were born into this world as nothing but you, The potential was endless, if only you knew.   Question has been there, a childhood friend,
Wooden Dolls
Not every day do you see a place like this Some call it a hole, others an abyss It appears to be a gateway to Hell Those who fall into it have a story to tell  
The cave fish swim Round and round Going nowhere Blind in the dark   Most have no eyes But one fish sees Sees the blackness Feels the hopelessness   The fish with eyes
Who am I?A brown girl?A tall girl?The girl who changesher hair often? Who am I?The introvert?The intellegent one?The sarcastic one?
I call to the stars And question my existence Who am I really?
All that glitters isn't gold And all that shimmers isn't diamond Just because you think you know me, Doesn't mean you really do. I can guarantee you that I'm not The person who you think I am,
Poetry is the sun's ray as it greets the earth every morning. Poetry is the oxygen we breathe as we search for something more. Poetry is the words on a page that form the universe around us.
I laid on the night's earthListening through the past's melodiesI felt the wind sweep me through timeI looked through a telescope and saw the faded starsA hundred and ten keys piled under the moonlight
I fear that as I grow older,I am not so much getting wiser,But rather, imaginativeIn hiding my lack of knowledge.
P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; } You showed me my face when you looked in my eyes. I used to stare at white walls with cobwebs splintering the corners. I cried because my veins were hollow
I write to find myself. I write to sort this all out. I write because my heart and mind have much more to say that my mouth could ever accurately convey.
Roaming down the dark halls, Searching for something, For someone. Their thoughts intertwined with my own, I have to find them. I need to find them.   My pulse is racing, my breath is catching,
“If you cannot be a poet, be the poem”- Donte Collins
An endless dark Boundless for eternity Started with but a spark And magnified into glorious vastness With great bodies of flame and light Ringed with odd assortments of rock and gas
Upscale or upstage Peaceful fight or calm rage Black and white or a melodic gray Take hold of the wind or the gravity and stay
We each have a well inside of us, filled with exhilaration and craze. It is our driving force. It is the host of every moral and desire we once entertained. It is the common truth that connects us all,
So, they say that words have power that we create matter, but all of my words haven't felt like they have power.
It begins when The innocence of white Flirts with a tease of pink. A white dove Grows strawberry lips. And soon comes the thirst. The passion. A rosy cheek And burning tongue
Once again I'm stuck in time Frozen in thoughts Crossing every and all spectrums I call it...being in my feelings In efforts to continue my lie And with a sigh the cycle restarts until
Who am I? Right now. I know, I know. But who am I, when the world turns dark? As I wander through this endless park? Am I me? Am I you? Do I love? Do I hate?
---The Discovery--- “What is love?” she asked; The answer was but masked. “What is passion?” she inquired. Is it merely something to be desired?
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