words

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Waking each day,  a coffee to drink a teacher at dawn   Meeting in the middle,
When you look back in time, To see how things a-line, It’s funny to see it all connect.   From history, with those victories,
Abscond.  Verb, meaning to sneak away and hide. 
Words Words Words Words They never get through, we've try to speak our pain but it doesn't matter to you Words  Words 
What is it like to battle your mind? It’s like looking into a mirror But the reflection That looks back at you Talks back Spitting back words like acid
With every word that comes out of my mouth There is a string attached at the end With the word "regret" With every word that passes through my mind It longs to be brought out
Speckled shadows on my collarbonesWhere your greedy hands wrote your name,Where my selfish whispers angered you,My desperate pleas denied youThe prize buried deeply in my chest
The heart, that craves the taste of being intoxicated but by love, The poison, is it the cure or the end? The taste of insanity it remembers so vividly, my flesh, my strings my bones, my veins
You want me to feel broken Alone, nowhere to go I’ve heard the blades you’ve spoken I have the scars to show   But I won’t stand by complacent Won’t let you spread your hate
Forgiven not forgotten hard work for what I’ve gotten knocked down kept on knockin’ fell down kept on walkin’ Shut down  kept on talkin’ don’t give up
23
23: that’s how many days it took to stop thinking about you every time I woke up. It’s how many times I sat alone with hurt in my eyes this year alone.
Words have power. words describe our excitement and feelings, words help us think thoughts. Thought makes us think about life. why do we play with them? We are spendthrifts with words,
There are so many words... And all of them have different meanings There are good and bad words, There are righteous words. Some words are lying, And some of them can hurt! .
Pretty pink elephants. Plenty of pastel plants. Pleasant pleasantries, Hide perfectly placed “you can’ts”   Beautiful blue hues. Obvious obligatory societal rules. High horse views,
Today,  we are more connected  than we ever were before   But just because  reaching each other  is easier, doesn't mean    we understand each other better,
Your walking down the halls of a familiar place as you see someone crying quietly in a corner. I want you for a second to put yourself in their shoes, experience the life their living and the pain that they’re feeling.
As a child I saw the beauty that was, simply put, not me.   The other little girls in their pretty pink dresses and white ribbons seemed somehow more, better, and I
My words seem void to their unchanging mind Each crafted phrase drops to the floor no one picks them up. no helpful mediator orders them  to accept my earnest attempts at having them understand- rather
Sometimes the words leave me and I cant speak. Sometimes my heart feels empty, and I can’t see; can’t see what’s right in front of me, so I walk blindly.
Oh if my words could build a bridge, From here to unknown planes. Oh if my words could linger on, And peoples' hearts would change.   My swords are sharp but duller still,
Inner folded prematurely molded  time is tempted  to be bolded small strokes of gentle wires to the face  The frame evokes a forecful fire  at waters pace
I am afraid that my mouth is a tomb in which only dead things live   I have written 38 poems, that’s 32,862 words 175,292 letters, and I can't tell you what the have done. My teachers always told me words have power, 
So many words None I can say I look at them They can see the words But cannot read them And I cannot say them I scream And I shout In a foreign language They don't understand
            If the lined pages                    Were a prison                  Then the words               Were the prisoners            Whose sentences
Acting out emotions may delve into extremities Throwing knifes of truth And bullets shredding thin   Ricochet Ricochet Ricochet  
You can't find the words to say Over and over again You scribble on a blank page Begging the words to come   But they never do   The ink in your pen goes dry You sit in an ocean of paper
What is wrong with certain words or how it is used? Around the world, all people have languages. They also have words that come with them. Certain words and certain uses of words cause harm.
My words, Made to be heard, Cannot be overlooked. Poetry puts them in a style. My words!
I. Communication is the empowerment of a nation While collaboration is the key to succession If both of these traits will work as one
Sense September 7, 2018 ~ Friday Little lips Little bits of me, the tips Of where all words begin and end Little place to hide my insides
My eyes move across the page, Soaking in each colorful word. Carefully crafted living poetry Enters my mind in a torrent.  
    Have you heard, Words Can Deaf! Have you seen, Words Can Blind! Have You felt,
Most people use pain and death to defeat their foes. However, pain is not needed. Words are the only weapon a true warrior uses. Not only can word hurt your enemy, But words can change them also.
Words wired words weird words warded words worried words, Worlds wrought with words, walled with words, wrecked with words, Wily writers work with words which welcome wrangling whilst wakening weakness,
Dear faceless words, You've given me so much.  Your voice changes with what you say,  An echo of your many names. As a wandering traveler, you taught me to see beauty.
three years old -- mumma tells me "dont disrespect a book else it will not teach you all that it knows" i listen to her and see the book in new light i see the inanimate object as an equal  
Words, Can break my heart, Or make it strong, Can mend my soul, Or tear it apart, Words have power, Beyond belief, Words can transport you, Into another world,
The words on the tip of her tongue are like daggers Gliding through silence, stabbing at past memories, Slicing open old wounds. It hurts - healing. Ripping
my words have power like thunder in an otherwise quiet night they reach ears miles from their source a crack of light with each ink stain while the message is carried across cities  
My erythrocytes are letters my blood is tomato soup made of english and iron paper cuts are spelling bees blisters ooze puss and punctuation. Sometimes I feel if I ever bled out
Poetry? Teach ME?   What are you anyway? Something to be shelved In a toddler’s sticky nursery In a dusty nook of some academic room In the mouths and minds of the passionate  
Overcome with feeling Looking for ways of healing Turning to the words When speaking comes out blurred Poetry speaks volumes So listen.
Words Brings life to ideas newborns who await to be seen by the world. People destroy words that come from precious gems. Never to be spoken Never to be written Never to be thought of 
Poetry is the essence of ones mind,  it is the whispers of the soul. Poems speaks words so loud, you can feel the raw emotion. The words awaken my spirit  that affects my mind, my body and my soul.
words fall out of my mouth like coins from a machine words words words so many words the world is made of words
Words. Flowing like the tears or blood or emotion of that which they represent. From my brain,  to my fingers, itching for the chance to write them, into my pen, scribbling, furious as a storm,
the first picture taken of me sits in an altar by my bedside, a reminder of everything I have been given from day one. a baby, curls of onyx in my eyes, nose-deep in a book.
To see the world  Through the frame of words   The moon in the sky Above ponderosa pines This scent in the air  Of the rain and wind   To catch and pin  The world to the page
Words written... Tightly bounded They speak louder than actions They tell a tale, or even speak facts They explain and sometimes even break down Their eyes gazing like the cautious owl
Words are powerful Words can be strength Words can be weakness Words can be a cry for help Or a cry of praise Poems have no end No limit No rules Just Words
It is apart of me   It crawls underneath my skin my lips slam close to stop the attempted escape my stomach fight with clenched invisible fists
It is not learned in pages of text Nor spoken from a Man's face It comes from the whispers of the soul From the howls of the wind From the chirp of a bird From the cry of a wave
i should probably  thank you.  when you left,  i had found myself. in pieces.  when you had  gone, not just with the flat screens & fine  china, but with the 
  Poetry is a form of self-expression                                            It helps release aggression                                            It’s a way of telling a story
From the way you describe it, You learn to think the way they do. Dark, bright, happy, sad, it feels like a hit, To the way they write about the wind to the way the cows moo.
A gruesome and brutal beast is faced, Knees in the dirt and knuckles in the sand, When reality’s slitted eyes are bared to us, Raping, scraping, gaping into our soul,
I have learned To walk When all I want to do Is Run   I have learned to Talk When all I want to do
I have learned To walk When all I want to do Is Run   I have learned to Talk When all I want to do
Looking back at the tear-stained pages Or the fantastical flurry Or even the self-beating words of a young mind, I find something sweet and fitting In the art of permanence.  
I.   Lines that break on the epitome of sound ring forth like the swells                 ~~~~ of a whale dipping into the sea                                           ~~~~~~~~~  
Holding my words above my head. Words stemmed from rumors that bring out the worst. I, the kindest soul... have grown the meanest exterior. All because of the words... held above my head.
I will climb up my tree of poetry; Onto the highest branch, Far into the leaves Where the birds will sing the thoughts I, once, could never focus on.
i am drowning in words i wish i could say   but, i cannot   it is why i wrote them instead of spoke them
   words are powerful  this a fact that should never be doubted they can hurt or they can help they can make you cry or they can make you smile they can make you angry or they can make you laugh 
When I was little I was always told to use my words, but maybe there are better things
Say what you want about me, I don't give a fuck. I've tried to be rational,  Now I've given up. Words can only go so far,  Then you need action! I've been a good girl for too long
it feels just like bleeding like you’re slowly dying and as you are crying, hiding, alone at night you and that fearsome thing,  praying that you could feel something other than pure, plain sadness
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
To the little boy in a grown man's body:   no stop i don't want you there your hands in my hair they're cold and unwelcome my soul has a tear caress my cheek with ice on your thumb
I want to express what’s buried in my heart But words can be fickle things that trap and hurt I want to use them to describe something wonderful and chaotic
          Poetries are just life lessons aesthetically put together for the young souls.                    
Life. The universe.  Reincarnation.  Living.  Breathing.   Do you know what - what these words have in common?  Besides grammar -  besides capitalization - 
Dear Words,   For every single one of you Who are born and made from thousands of little words, You have been in our lives since ¨Hello¨
Dear Sandy,  I come from a remote island  standed in the sea nonsensically  wanting to tell this to thee,  tell you that:    Words
Dear Numbers, You represent that which words can easily explain.   You represent something lonely and lost.    You are solitary objects that only result in a continual pattern of more numbers to be defined. 
Screaming Silence. Filled with every word not spoken Every Emotion never touched How do you console a broken heart? Or a broken soul? What magic can you say To take that pain away?
We cry on the inside,  thinking the best thing to do is hide.  The fear of pain gets the best of us.  We justify, it's better this way but internally we make a fuss.
You know you were my best friend I lost the love of my life Or what I thought was the love of my life, And you were there. You opened up so many doors for me
The shelves nudge my hips as I pass. They are jam-packed with too many books to count, But I do.  I count them all. Their pages are rough and worn. They hold memories of eras I long to visit.
I’m not saying I’m in love, that would be way too fast. I’m just saying I have some feelings, I haven’t felt in the past.  A feeling of comfort that I don’t reach easily.
Your lips – Gateway to your heart – So thin, so pink, so tender, Like rose petals; Wet are they not with dew But with nectar, The eternal and the sweetest amrita.
Go to a museum and look at a painting Observe it carefully…you got it? Good Now close your eyes and describe the painting Did it have meaning? How was the technique? Was the artist famous? Did you feel any emotions?
People say that words carry weight And we understand it's true That words can be so heavy Even when they're so few It's their emotional pounds  That weigh you down That make you afraid
It is one moment that changes a life.  I don't care about landmarks;  This isn't what I speak of.  In my head, there are echoes of kindness,  Whispered softly but still heard. 
Words roll and tumble through the air Big words, little words Words that glow and vibrate And words that are content to sit there Filling in the spaces
Come here, and lend your ear. For there is a word That you really must hear. If not, life would be unassured. So listen, please, I ask a favor.
Dear Beautiful, You. Yes, you. You are loved. You are perfect. You are beautiful. In our society People are so quick to judge Based on what's seen on the outside
No. A powerful word. An underestimated word. A new word To me. I always bleed, I cannot eat, Anxiety makes me want to Leap out of my seat. A hand on my thigh,
Smaller and smaller they became The words on the pages lost to an abyss Each day weaker and weaker And the words vanish   But the colors stay The colors and the sound The sound and the colors
Why do you do, the things you do? They ask, once, and again. And this is what I say — Words mean little without their motion, A motion of respectful listening. To have and hold, only when told,
If my heart were a garden, Words flowers, I would suffocate in the weeds of your silence.
It's 7 in the morning I'm off to my first place of learning Imaginative Writing When suddenly The lady whom I've given the best 3 years of existnece to 
Words. The most powerful thing we humans posses  It can bring together nations and end wars They can mend families and broken hearts But  They could tare nations apart and dance in their ruins
It’s the moment you look at them. Every single time your eyes meet, You know in your heart, there, that’s were you want to be.   
sex
I am a girl. I am a woman. My sex is girl. I am powerful. I am worthy. In this man made world, I am sturdy. I will not let you look at me any less than you look at yourself. I am amazing. I will NOT LET YOU BELITTLE
 Everyone is a poet at heart,  They come up with brilliant ideas Only to be shut down by a wired minded society. Your brilliance stands out among all of these plastic molded people Darling, Don't be discouraged  YOU, Your ideas, Are what we need i
Words are beautiful,Singing softly to tuned ears,Lighting my tired heart.
The cut is cleanly made, When one uses the correct blade.  But if the sword is misused, Then chaos may then ensue.    The blow is full of force, When the blade follows its course.
I haven't written in so long. I mean truly written. I lost that part of my self somewhere along the way. Why don't I think up crazy crackpot original dream stories? Why do I no longer channel my rage into biting poems?
Created for relationship - that's what they say. Severely precious. Always enough. Captivating. Longed for. Loved. Fought for. Full of potential. Bought at the highest price.
She painted a picture   Charcoal on her hands caressing the lines of his back. The curves Water to her brush Over the white canvas Blank and patient Quiet Waiting  
The music won’t stop dancing inside my head.Arrays of jade.Violet.Azure.Onyx and cream.Colors and tastes.Fresh mint.Vanilla icecream.Sharp citrus.Soft cheddar.It lifts and tilts.
They drip and slide so quietly They are coldThe tears form a puddle And into it she looksAnd sees her reflection Such sad, dark eyes And the girl whispers Through cracked lips 
I don’t talk a lot At first And I hope that that’s okay But once I know your warmth And feel safe letting words escape When I know they and I don’t annoy you Then I’ll tell you
Books are my escape And if you’re reading thisI think they’re yours too And that also means You’ve dealt with the people Who ask: how? You wanna know what I always tell them?In books I find love 
Poetry is art. A way to release your mind. And haikus are cool.
the constanants tingle, the vowels vibrate into placenot quite creating the words but leaving in my brain a faint traceI can feel them in my body, they move from my head into my heart
Every evening I died of a sickness of depression, As if all that caused my pain was a hybrid of my immense emotion, My actions reflected my thoughts and I was unable,
Oh how wonderful words are. They can empower, they can uplift, they can entertain giving someone the courage to attain their dreams. Oh how powerful words are.
Whether it is sooner or later, people will reveal their true colors. Eventually, the sparkling gleam of fairytales and new beginnings fades into the dark enchanted woods of reality. Imperfections. Losses. Disappointments. Failures.
Perhaps we are all blind sometimes. Our vision becomes shrouded in the pitch-black darkness of our own rotten words. Our blood turns cold, emerald with envy.
These words of praise. Come in little phrases. "Be Safe." "I love you." Just to name a few. These words of curiosity. They show our generiosity. "Are you okay?" 
Words I use to build up hope. These words I use to help me cope. To deal with the pain, I felt for years. To help me with these childish fears. Words I use to express my Soul.
You bring out the psycho in me, the hot-tempered child in me sending me back 15 years to crying to only obtain cravings You bring out the psycho in me,
At 6 I never had a friend So when someone came up to me and said “Bare your soul and I'll give you the lint from my pocket,” I told her, “You can pay me by being a friend.”
a week so before, lifewas lived as a cinematic dreamit was daYs of joywalking alongwithout a touchstepping upand downin a buildingwith flooRsand glasseswhich makesOne witneSs
Words like rain.   Words drop like a constant rain, Drowning out all that is humane   Words like rain.   At first start small
There are thousands of wordsI could say to youThousands of words that have crossed my mindWords that stay bottled insideWords that I try desperately to hideTo ignoreI see you passing by
Every last word is meIs a part of what makes meWell.... meThey are an expression of my beingAn expression of what I'm feelingEvery last word
Words  Are magic, Wrapping around your soul, Burying itself in your heart, Branching out into your mind. Words Are incantations, Lifting you up and  Tearing you down In succession
To take away, with the accordance of a fowl, the flight of a child is not the loss of air.   The wings that protrude from the back of your aims are the soul that keeps one on fire;  
I once would take  to cutting and mark upon my skin. I know the thoughts haunt me and run over me in surprise. But nothing consumes my mind as much as your smile,  and the light behind your eyes.
careless yet care ridden your lips dripping with honey so sweet you’re rotten to the core me, innocent innocence
My fingers graze the back of the page on which I spilled my soul. I run them over the indentations where my pen carved my feelings into the pure, white, sheet. How is it that such an act could be considered normal?
You walk into that new shop on the corner. You've never seen it before. It's inviting store windows and beautiful exterior pull you inside. What are they selling? words. 
When you hear or say a word too much, it stops sounding like a word and you question it, yourself, like, “am I spelling it wrong, am I saying it wrong?” and then “is this even a word?” that’s so odd, isn’t it? Why does that happen?
Ink
Ink   Quickly the ink spreads, running across the pages. Making sense within their lines, keeping records through the ages.
Words are imporant, Flashy or dull, However the meaning changes, With the way the person behaves, Without an ear to listen, They are only sound in a world of many, Without a mind to comprehend,
     We are created with only three Words "i love you" and the love exuding from those Words is somehow enough to create another life and as that life grows, she learns how to say the Words that created her and more
I often Sonder when I walk the street. All People I will never officaly meet. All of them have lives as vivid and complex as my own. I often think of them when I return Home. All the words I never knew existed.
The creative langague of  flaunting words together-- each transition a contortion of imagination and the fantasy of reality. These are my faithful inspirations because words are my pearls
I can't let go of the past. It isn't that simple. The memories are engraved in my brain  Like the scars on skin. They play in my head over and over Like a movie on loop. If I could simply forget them
You told me you weren't good with words, or writing poetry, But sweetheart, you don't need words to make poetry with me. 
It’s against the rules to bawl here. Not because someone said it, not because it would hurt anything. Just don’t cry. It’s that simple. Just don’t feel. Quit it.
It cuts like a knife, yet it brings me life.    There is so much hate and I’m crushed under the weight.   It’s so encouraging and nice  it provides love, joy, and peace.  
I took the pen where words failed me I had no sword to fight, The dragons that had besieged me From day to my very first night I wrote to silence screaming And bid demons stay away
"Having a Coke with You," I thought I had fallen in love with the protagonist of "Beastly" but really the works of Frank O'Hara made my heart swoon, the poem soon became an embedded memory.
The power of poetry is incredible. To pick up a tool and paper and decide, I will change something, with words... is extremely powerful.   Humans have the ability to communicate,
It's too bad I'm not a mas-o-chisttie me down like i asked-for-this   I'm screamingI'm strandedAbdicatedAbandoned   No. Free. Will.  
Life is a puzzle A mystery Finding our purpose Is through finding ourselves Finding ourselves Is through our exploration Words coursing through our veins Yearning to share their secrets
The air is thick, stifling My heart sinking Stagnating, then exploding Filling my mind with a million senseless thoughts Somewhere amidst the chaos
I can hear the unspoken sounds of words To the quiet whisper of Gaily, shuffled, and intimate To the distant rumble of Revoked, sanctify, and rebellion Each word is humming a lullaby
Words    
Literature is….!  Boring.   I slept through Kipling, Napped on Dostoevsky, You think I liked Dickens?
I used to say that "love" was not a strong enough word to describe my feelings but that it would do for now. I could go through the dictionary and look up a hundred synonyms to describe the feeling when I looked at him. Adore
It's only 5 letters but feels more like a mouthful. You've bit off more than you can chew now you're choking on it. You can't swallow your pride so you spit it out.
I was once asked what I think God's greatest creation is. Some say people, chocolate, music, naps. She said love, he said Disney World, I said words.
I once was a little girl Who one day picked up a pen, A notebook, And never looked back   I became fascinated with words That sang and danced And told unique stories
Unspoken words on the surface of my mouth. I wonder how, in deep thought, I lay. I wonder how How to release, to let them flow These unspoken words are much too powerful to just let go
Painted Upon a Page my unspoken words sit. Sour and horrid are their meanings... deeper than I would like to admit.
Seventh grade, my friends left me All I had to console me was family A new Taylor Swift C.D. The melody   School was tough with no seat No one to meet When it was time to eat,
I am not a poet   I am no poet I don’t craft images with my words Images of hope and healing   I am not a poet.
These words are a salvation  that flows from the need in my chest through my arms and out my flying fingertips   These words are a salvation stemmed from the same feelings  and whirls of thought
Reality is whatever my words make it.   A long forgotten shack in the middle of a blizzard,
Why must I speak? Whenever I do, conflict ensues. Words are spat into each other's faces, False accusations in all places, As I helplessly watch. I apologize yet again,
I read that words have the power to change us and for the longest time, I refused to believe it.
There is a girl,   And she is young pretty and bright.   But, she lived with words inside of her, like a parasite.   They could be nice, gentle and loving,   like a mother is to a child.
Maybe it was my realization that placement of words and spaces could literally shake a nation, Wake a generation, stir a congregation, or transform no way into more ways.   
Can someone please tell me why this world is so full of words I can't understand Why I can't comprehend please lend me a hand so I can understand how to be your friend
I’m not much of a poet But then other times I think Maybe I am if Only in some ways   In a rush or a trickle When I least expect them to Words have a way of Flying from my hands  
Compulsions undescribed No outlet for emotions A cage of my own making But I forgot the door   Tick tock Goes the clock Ticking my thoughts away Deeper and deeper inside my cage  
              I am seven years old and the luckiest girl in the world.             I sip tea with fairy princesses             And spar with pirates.
There are so many words that have left my body, that don’t graze the inside of my skin anymore.  I write knowing that the word and the moment 
The first time I walked in I smelled the scent of her candles and penciled in meetings She said speak So I spoke Then I cried.   It began.   The next few consultations
Words roll and tumble through the air It’s funny, because those words hold the most possibility We either hate it or love it, but everyone uses it Some words flash their importance and stare you in the eye
Saying too much is regretful.Saying too little is poignant. But what is it when you feelyou've  done both at the same time?There are words left on my tongue,shards of sentences I'll never utter
it was like clay: a keyboard. molded everything she wanted to say. when she was bored had a desire to record needed a sword or a place to explore poems were that medium.
What is a poet? Me, you, the world. What’s it to me? I tell a tale With words and thoughts Muddled together as a I talk and sing. Trying to get people to understand The world within me.
words i cannot quite grasp float around my head like secondhand smoke. (never touching my lips, but killing me nonetheless.)
Sometimes, I don’t understand. How do people study so well at things that they don’t like? I just sit and get even more distracted when I try to study the topics I’m not into. Sometimes, I don’t understand.
A world dealt with the aftermath of countless lifetimes laden with crueltyA world in turmoil and controversyA world trying to expand and trying not to expandSuch is the world I was born into.Not everybody is happy.
People mistake my sadness for poetry, But what they don’t realize is, It’s just my soul bursting from me. My mistakes, My heartaches, My life, My strife. I write them all out,
I’m there for you whenever you need me   …except for when it’s inconvenient. You’re the most important person in my life   …until someone better shows up. I’m sorry   …that I got caught.
Words flow through my veins like blood; I feel them pulse and quiver through. When my tongue is thick and mouth runs dry, I will write the words I cannot say.  I will write these words to you.   
The curling of a pencil's lead, creating lines for words that fell from my mind and into my tiny fingertips.  This is the distant, glowy memory of when I first fell that pull, that longing to gently press
When I write I never ask why. I never had to think about it. It always just happened. But it wasn't until I noticed That I write to survive, I write because words can save lives.  
Some see numbers and it makes sense, but other can't even understand cents. Spanish is to an english speaker, as math is to me. Gibberish. I see words and can eloquently translate it's thoughts
    Your mother's silvery soft spoken voice as she tells you she loves you     The first word that escapes your small pink lips.     Your wide open eyes, as they glaze over each sentence of To Kill A Mockingbird
Once there was a girl that cried at night Her daddy would hate and hit and fight When she got older her mother remarried And it felt as if a great weight had been carried But she couldnt forget the scars in her mind
I was born with many words, Better words than I can say; Every time, before I catch them, Those word-birds fly away.   This might be for the best; If one nested in my mind,
Tell me poetry Why would I write for you? I stare hard at the blank lines, demanding You're a wielder of words, they whisper
Without words, our world would be so blurred and absurd. For ages, I have tried to look up the pages to why words are so outrageous and contagious. If I ponder a little longer I can conclude that words are stronger than any monster.
I open my mouth with words ready to express All that escapes are jagged chokes that fade into the atmosphere. She verbally slaps me with those same chokes He glares at me with his once warm eyes.
Poems, books, words, and quotes you are the love that I have found in literature.  
if you asked me to say what poetry means to me  i could not write you a poem about it for i write poems when i feel broken  or hopeful i write poems to burn bridges and build new ones  for myself
Throughout our childhoods,  we’re taught to trust in the things shoved down our throats by the tv screens, We don’t know they're lies of course,  It’s all so real to us, it’s all we know,
We like to pretend that we're the three wise monkeys, We pretend to be blind, We turn a blind eye to evil, We pretend that we're blind and that it never happened,
You had thought your words were fun  You had thought it was a game  But you didn't see the wave of disaster your words became  When the words once said were manifested into a knife  And the knife it cut  It cut deep  Deep into the skin  And the sk
With the flow of angry fighting words, I take my final stand Soaring brighter ever higher in the fire of my own hands   My great song will not diminish in this whirl of wonder when
Words found me lost, And at once brought me home, So pain would not accost Me at any place that I roam. For an outlet I searched, To take the pain away, But the power 'nside me sat perched,
It was in Creative Writing class that I first discovered my love- a true and faithful love-for the wonderful world of poetry.  Before it was all just words to me. Words lined up like strange little 
 Together we relax in each other’s company.  The stresses around us drift away. Together we talk for hours about destiny,  riveting lives around us display.
Begin with a blank canvas A piece of paper with no identity And scribble a word or two   Make your memories into a photograph Using only what you know best Words   That is the axis
Hello, hola, Bonjour, ciao, All are words of salutation.   Goodbye, adios, Au revoir, ciao, All are words of valediction.   Ciao and ciao, goodbye and hello?
A notebook. A pen. Swirling thoughts raced inside my head. Biting lips. Darting eyes. My emotions were in disguise. Overwhelmed? Yes that’s true. It left me with only one thing to do.
All I need? I guess when it boils down to it, The bare bones, when everything else is stripped away Are just... Words. The words that both anchor me And set me free   Without the words,
I write to ease the pain of the day, untold with many stories to say. My pen moves swiftly along each line, while I sit here and wait for the words to align. Hours upon hours, while each word empowers.
Words are like beads Threaded together in an eccentric piece Words fill all my needs In a satisfying release You ask what I can’t live with out Words are what I chose
If not the man then the thought of him if not the thought of him then his words  his words in your head reminding you who you are and who you ought to be. 
I could live all by myself, Yet never be alone. Two covers and a spine, Can make a charming home.   Wallpaper of rustling pages, Songbirds warbling in verse,
It swims within variety, As if it were an ocean, From sorrow to prosperity, The image and emotion,   When the words make me cry,
“Have you ever heard of the power of words?” He sounds like some sort of Jehovah’s Witness, standing there on the sidewalk with his books hugged tight to his chest, staring at her with eyes so impossibly wide.
All I had was found in you Callow was my feeble heart, one unable to look past the light bombarding your soul. Quell this pain my nerves are circulating through my body.
Continuously evolving into a new being. On the contrary, my shell seems to remain unchanged. Monotone drones of the voices urging me to want more.
How could I stop?  How could I just throw all those years away?  Leave behind that little jewerlry shop?  Act as if my characters don't have a say?  I need to write. 
They asked: which thing would you choose, if you could only choose one thing, over all things?   I could not respond.   I am one of those creatures that
Back and forth Back and forth Scanning the lines Finding the rhymes Eyes flicker and flit Watch the words split Feeling the pain Dancing in the rain Alongside the unsung hero
I cannot wrap my head around your existence. Not something as delicate as a butterfly’s wing, or overwhelming as the presence of death in the fall
Maybe the sound I hear isn’t the melodic tone I perceive it to be. Even angels couldn’t open their lips to evaluate its harmonious wonder.
Gross words a tangled mess, leave me alone and let me rest; im tired of you and your unknown meaning, leave me alone I don't get what your seeing; being kind and I might let you be,
Words are an art concealed by sound and expression.  
Now
I want to create BE Become the current Ethereal reality No authentic fakery Forget time spent Live in dreams Read in books So in reach   I want to act DO
A goddess, leads to shoes, leads to sports Leads to drinks, leads to cars, leads to on and on and on Words and words and words Such wonderfully malicious beasts When released by those who know
To live without words, Is like living without life. Speak out and be heard.
I cannot stand, nor sit here in this darkness i dread There is none to follow me or compliment this ability I cannot hold such negativity here in my hand The pain, too much for me is now rotting in the corner.
I could see it in your blue eyes, nothing much but hate No love,just spite hidden behind those things you call eyes. Your words spit out as lava, filled with deadly venom. I knew you once, and this thing you called love
The same twenty-six scribbles compose every story I’ve ever fallen in love with. The same chords write every song That’s ever touched my soul.   The ability to create something beautiful
When you say that you are fine, It leaves me lost to where your heart lies; What to make of such a quandary With diction so abstract in nature - I am granted the privilege akin to a diety:
Words have a pulse, They bleed and they bruise, Like a heart’s beating impulse, Only that you get to choose.   Like a scream gone ignored, Or a sob in dark, behind closed doors,
Storms are like anger They come when they feel like it And leave when they are done At first there are small gusts of words Those small gusts build and build Then eventually they erupt
"I am so different now I never wanted to stand out I wanted to fade into the crowd But my thoughts were just too loud A whisper to a shout The words come pouring out."
Many different people like lots of different things. Some like fame, or TV. Others like rain when it goes Drip drip drop Down on your window.
There is always an ember burning in my heart for you This type of love is rooted deep inside my heart
Heard it in the hallway, None knew it floated my way. They seem to stage whisper, In tones that are crisper. What they say is quite alarming And very much disarming.    Why keep pretending?
Some say words are useless they are inaccurate idealizations that never capture the true nuance of meaning   Some say words are useless
Let me steal you away with a couple words. Bring your heart up high, higher than the birds. Take away your breath, for its mine to keep. Pull you in my arms, til you fall asleep.
Walls of white. The black of night. All of which confine this voice inside I try to hide. I dare not cross the line. This voice, it grows, my eyes, they show
Say the words you know will burn a fire within me Say the ones that you think will push me Say them. Please say them.  Becuase I promise then, I won't feel bad walking away. 
A thousand times they escape my lips  Throughout the passing of dusk and dawn They slip by too fast sometimes Leaving only cruel regret I cannot measure the harm they caused Nor the joy they brought as well
Growing up we were taught about the sticks and stones and broken bones We were taught that cruel words are just intangible objects that can't really hurt us That mean words mean nothing
So um I like wrote a poem because like I'm sick of people telling me I need to like talk with confidence.Maybe if you actually paid attention to what I said and  stopped degrading women for everything I would have this confidence you speak of. 
A statue of metallic human shape, posessing life and tongue of silver shine. Adept and witty speech of gilded shine, observant voice that no one could escape. For praise, it sings of glory sans mistake.
You are his Summer Girl. His Early June. His Late July. You are his quick fix. His in-between. You are his fall back. His default. You are the One That’s Always There. Baby. Do not mistake this for love. 
SaltwaterMy words taste like the seaRemarks can slaughterEverything that means so much to meI am no longer youngerI am now old enough to knowIgnorance can still echo like thunder
parentheses parenthetical thoughts never expressed repressed like sexual urges in children too young to know what sex is what an urge is
Silver-tongued or flustered,  Your words make my heart pound.  Awkward or with lustre,  Your voice is still the best sound.    You hide a smile behind your hand,  You cheeks go red, that I understand.    Gentle words that blow me away,  You always
I love the way a man walks swagger to the side left to right he glides the way a man talks whether deep or light his voice is just right the way a man smells makes my heart excel
Words Fall through me They come out in droves They burst and explode Like a gas can that just got shot violently   They trickle like a brook that's been throttled by drought
Your words not only hurt me  but make me feel so low how can you just look at me, and already assume this is what I'm about? All my imperfections and flaws
What gives? What takes? What mends? What breaks? What heals? What hurts? What strips? What girts? What never dies? What lives on? What tells lies? What are our songs?
crystal clear tears gather in my stinging eyes
Tell me your twisted tales, weave your web of lies Bring me all your secrets, cross your heart and hope to die   Leave me with no empty space, fill me to the brim Overflow me with your words,
See, Hydrogen atoms started at the beginning of everything, At the base of the Big Bang,
I am intoxicated by words Addicted to the subtleties of language
Words use one way. Can make you HAPPY. Used another way. They can make you SAD Than words can be used. To express HATE. A little HitchhikingBot. Met his end.
words are always getting tangled up on my tongue
Words are my favorite They flutter on the pages Of crisp papers Handcrafted letters
He was nine. Hadnt experienced a thing Expect for being tortured, harassed And the horrible things that words can bring   Words hurt They hurt more than sticks and stones
*in response to my n'th reading of The Book Thief by Mark Zusak*   It's 11am and 257 pages The words have rinsed over my beaten and bruised soul as the rain.  
"Gay", "Straight", "Confederate", "Union", 
I want you to say those words,
Me, myself anda piece of paperdecided to take onthe world.And so I wrote upon itsent it forthlet it fly freeout my window.I heard talk of it a year later
An inspiration of words, whispered one last time; for a crowd of mouths to listen. An inspiration of sound, screamed with passed-on passion; for one to know, and many to hear.
Oh how her tongue doth wreak its ire
Word are like pennies.
I wonder when it will be easier to place the letters together. To form the letters into words, and the words into sentences,
Words   Words are awesome. They are my freedom, kind of like a superpower.  
Violence would have saved me. A thought I struggle to comprehend. It were the words that degraded me, broke me down, they wrapped around my neck. "Piece of shit" "worthless" "a mistake"
and all the cannibalistic bullets trapped n digging through the fox hole cant stop me from letting my silence speak to you cause when words hit you dont hear a sound.
Some people say that writing is like breathing, but I disagree because
At that time those 
 sometimes my mind goes blank
Words can fall drip drop pitter patter rain on a foggy windowpane
I remember the night I spilled between your binding.
Turn my tears into words Words that shows how it hurts Though can never be heard I'm still writing this words
I walked off MeAnd into the Corridor of my houseIt was not the sameHad mirror wallsBoth the walls strangelyRevealed strange imagesOf my familiar self
Death of the Body
Be with someone whose words make you
There are 26 letters in the English language. There are thousands of words There are millions of sentences and you control this entity with your one mouth To build empires To tear down nations
I am a product of judgement and lies. 
I am a wanderer I allow myself to explore the outer reaches of my mind and world
Music is my voice Lyrics are my words A mermaids rejoice  In a broken world  My infectious laughter pollutes the air Jumping in imagination With love and hope everywhere Creating inspiration
 
Words lose their meaning throughlies and deception.They begin as mere plain text with a definition to follow,but soon are tossed around in a batter ofgenerously margined synonyms and false connotations.
  Skin can break bones can shatter but words will forever ffill the air. Unbreakable  filled with power. They win wars and stop hate. They can be used for greatness.
My forehead is a little too tall My nose is a little too there My face is round and my hair just does this thing   I don't really care that insert celebrity name here is dating
"Poetry," he said, " is so over-rated." "So many thing are," I thought. Simply because people hold them above the things that are more valuable,  and more under-rated.
Music had so much emotion and soul
We sit in silence puffing our breath into the frigid air,
Boredom is killing us.  It makes us reckless.    Veronica Russell
You wake up today Ready to fade away.
Words without reproof, naked and ashamed, Unheard, but reached by hundreds; they’re my words spoken. But I am the king of the Jungle! A lion untamed.   My power lies within the boundaries I have proclaimed
Me
I don't care what people think of me if "Im ugly" without make up
What is “Flawless”? Like what does it mean? You don’t know, well here is a definition Flawless by definition means without any blemishes or imperfections; perfect Now tell me are you flawless?
Since last Thursday night, my three year old man has Disappeared into the clutch of Time.   My three year old man can do so Much more than I thought he could. He plays the keys with more
Play me like a fiddle, boy,
Looking into the abyss What do I see? I see me Wearing my ugg boots And skinny jeans “I am pretty” I say “I am smart” I say “I am me” I say  
I just want the me I was before I knew what it was like to have to live each living day without you, it's been such a long time since I've seen me and I miss me
I’m hecking emotionally aloof Somebody tells me they love me So I tell them ‘thanks’. But like really I’m pretty clingy I need attention 24/7 But from my close group of friends. AND GUESS WHAT WORLD!
The thoughtless plucking of cords. Air resonating through the pathways of muscle To make sound. Guttural, lyrical, nonsensical Sound refined by teeth and tongue, By the careful pursing and pulling of lips.
The first time he held my hand I wanted to cry.
Many different people like lots of different things. Some like fame or TV Others like rain when it goes drip drip drop down on your window. But me? I love words.
Type. Just type. My fingers dangle above the keyboard, Splashing each word, verb, sentence- That comes to mind.  The words are like snow to me: Soft, Delicate, And pure. 
Time after time people are labeled as things Words of hurt, words that crash dreams Because of how we look, not for what we be But ignoring them all makes me a happier me
Quiet, they say.
I will miss those words, lostNow forbidden from my mindMy body refuses greatness,So I can't repeat them a second timeThe first time is the best though,And if not,Simply remembered for being first.
Where I’m From
My words without a filter, They are pulses ripped from my heart, They are thoughts carefully caught from the darkest depths of my brain,  They are not affected by this so called casual speech that many people engage in
*Click* We hear it too much See it too much "Ugly" they say *delete*
I try to speak And my words Are trampled down before they’ve left my mouth. I try to speak But it’s like The most important words are the most loud. And they wonder why I’m quiet?
Words are powerful. They are the means by which people can be broken or healed.   Words are cannoballs. As soon as they are fired, it cannot be reversed.    The damage can only be repaired.
If one word or phrase or sentence I say,  inferno breaks loose - The townspeople flea  from trembles, pulsations, and rifts in the clay.  Magma to lava, from humble to greed.    
But I'm probably just rambling to air at this point.  No matter how prolific,
Today I learned that you can create by a word at a time.  Only One at a time. Oh, so bare.    I want all the words.  To steal words put them into my pocket  Never take them out
Me
I am me. I have a passion for sports, but I am not a "jock". I love learning, but I am not a "nerd". I enjoy relaxing, but I am not "lazy". I wear baggy sweats, but I am not a "bum". I am me.  
Wanting to show my kindness, intelligence, beauty  But fear that my confidence will receive the labels of pride and conceit I'm just going to be honest Every inch of me is flawless Vulnerable, anxious
Camera, Camera on my phone. Filter away all my flaws, Surly I do lie, but beauty is key , Without  filters, We shine flawless like  gems, Now we see eye to lens,  Simple beauty,no trends.
PRETTY   PLASTIC  
I grab a rag from the old wooden stand; Society was staying my hand. Begging and screaming to not take it off; But as I stared at myself in the mirror; I was not happy with myself.  
A person faces a challenge everyday some are small and fade away
As people say I am not I look around and find an empty lot I try not to worry for they never understand My gift and duty I have on hand.
Flawless My words are flawless. My mind is far from perfect And my spelling is atrocious I studder and i stumble,   But my words. My words have never failed me.  
  Jokingly, at himself, “Idiot.”  All too dramatic, “Can’t you do anything right?”  Laughter. “You. Are. Worthless.”  They don't mean it,
I am simply me   Nothing more nothing less Do I speak differently Why yes The shaking you hear is not my choice Scared that the next word I say will not come out
Words they flow from my mouth like a river running wild. Nothing can stop the tide.   Words they flow from my mind creating new worlds. Destroying old irrelevent thoughts.  
Discovery meet, most sweet substantial,  A grim victoire in sober fierce,  Which knowing in its talent fines  To piercing use; the cup hath brimmed And overflowed in talent honed,
If I died tomorrow Would you miss me? If I died tomorrow would you think twice about the good times? Or would all the negative and bad times be in your minds
The way my hair falls on my shoulder, the mole on my right leg,  and my hairy knuckles just make me flawless. The scars on my feet, the way my stomache folds, and my bushy eyebrows make me flawless.
It is odd If you think about it; How words work. Just a motion of the lips, A simple sound, Some squiggles in a note Can mean so much Or so little... They control us emotionally
Are you ready to see what hides behind the curtain? Can you handle something so uncertain? All you can hear is laughter from her lips, and see a shadow moving her hips. Are you ready to pull the curtain? Are you ready for the uncertain?
"small lips", "big nose", "pale face", "big eyes", "small thighs", "fat in the wrong place",  "awkward", "strange", "too shy",  but "dont let them get to you", "dont you cry" smile, smile, smile. 
Between Creation and Destruction Lies creature, creed, cure, cry Desire, despair, and danger.
English is a language far too complex, Ordinary man or scholar it will perplex. It seems nothing will translate directly, Because it cannot be expressed correctly.
I can rhyme words without a rhythmbut as soon as I try, I lose the feeling.So I’ve learned to let them flow,let ‘em rolloff my tongue - or in this case my pen -
Voices matter. Without a voice, Hitler wouldn't have taught us the power of speech. Without a voice, Martin Luther King Jr. wouldn't have taught us dreams can be reached.
I write because I breathe. I write because I feel. I write because if I don't, I'll go mad with all the emotions rattling around inside my head. I write because words are beautiful. I write because they are deadly.
Words are the wings upon which we soar. Flying through the mazes of ages we keep looking Toward something, for something— For what, we’re not really sure. A way to connect, a way to define,
Views and words, views and words.
Why do people feel the need To say they’re sorry for everything? I’m sorry you’re sad. I’m sorry you’re happy. I’m sorry you’re hurt. I’m sorry you’re sorry. Sorry has become just a word
If you are Caucasian, Asian, or of Middle Eastern persuasion everyone wants to be black for the occasion You wear saggy jeans and you come off like this Do you really know what its like to be black and dissed
I will remain silent
A few simple words can make the whole world turn,
  Not a day will go by that people will end the day with regret.
I look too serious, call me deliriousI am too quiet, but they never seem to defy itI seem too angry, can you really blame me? Because I am in a world Where love and peace no longer exist,
Eek
You tell me I'm unique and they say I'm a freak. Excuse me, sir; but who gave any of you permission to speak?
They are everything and nothing They're communication, our voice intangible and see through easily forgotten or vividly remembered They can be gentle or offensive  
One day you are going to wake up and notice that you should've tried. You are worth the fight. Stop the Negative as well as start the positive. Vast things happen when you distance yourself from the negative.
when I am feeling down, but not feeling music I get my radio then I tune it,  I throw my hands in the air and wave like I just dont really care.
I have too many             words trapped in my brain   like a jigsaw puzzle compact and interlocking   I wish they would               float out of my mind  
  The museum of the twenty-first century The nation’s greatest weapons lie behind the one way glass Tanks take up parking spots, Guns are in the closet, This is not the place for them. Read the signs,
Life will knock you down. What lifts you up? Maybe it’s the way His eyes sparkle against the sunset.
I let myself smile a big unfamiliar feeling goofy smile because the words are pulsing out of me. Pushing out and then when they make it to the surface, slipping like raindrops down down
When you read my words maybe you’ll feel my happiness and you’ll remember the night when we talked for hours with no curfew to stop us. It was lovely, but you weren’t really there. -
I anxiously await the day My novel is confirmed to play To invade your minds With my tantalizing words For my characters to wound To uplift, to hurt. For the hours I've spent In silence to toil
Potters Clay by L.C   Pictures painted  without a brush And sketches drawn  with just a touch   As potter's clay We start to mold 
I’ll make this simple In today’s society words sound as dumb as a bag of rocks, No scratch that, a syndicate of rocks, There does that sound better?
They come They go They stay They leave   But to catch them Now that's hard So close you come To forming coherency  
My mouth goes dry and my throat closes up People wonder if I am mute But the truth is I have nothing to say
What if every word had a cost? And you paid in in full Every 'and' 'a' 'the' Cost you part of yourself We would be a bit less careless, wouldn't we? Hopefully Probably
Everyone uses them Some wield them like swords Others like shields Some to harm And others to heal Made gods like them Or made mortal by them   Some use to trick and deceive
What are limits without timeWhat is distance without a prizeWhat do you win once you have won what you have wanted all alongWhat is a fight without a warWhat is speech with no encore
I remember trying. 
Everything is a struggle. For those to weak to fight.
It is as though The sound of nothing is the sound of words. The words that you speak,
Whispers in the WindWritten by Adam M. SnowEntrance me with your tune,that gentle voice of yours.
Maybe I write because I like the feel of it. The click of the keys All the power of a God on a blank page The uninhibited command held in my fingers and my mind Except I fumble over the language I speak
Some words create laughter Others create lies Some may be foolish Others are wise   Some people lock them away Or hide them behind their eyes Others may keep quite
The power of words is not all I have- I could beat the living shit out of you, after all I worked with horses and bullies and fear- but my feelings always get in the way there. How would your parents feel?
Look yonder don’t you see? That crumpled paper lying there, Discarded without care   In its wrinkled lines and smeared ink My darkest secrets hidden underneath a tear Folded up and messy over there.
The Pen is a weapon  Stronger than any soward,  Ans the Mind-                The Mind is the the hero, No the Master that guidea NO Comands the weapon  The Master and her weapon
the thought of ink on my skin forever intrigues me.
I'm Sorry, No, not me, you are, Well, sometimes,
Everyday when I wake up I think about the choices I will make ahead. By turning on my light will I make someone else uncomfortable. I work a job that could have belonged to someone else.
You know that moment between t
i am an quiet.with too many thoughts to say,but no way to say it.the stutter gets in my way,followed by a cough, clearing of the throat,then silence in the air.i want to speak up,
Words have so much power. The power to heal, To inspire,  To attract, To amuse, To teach,  To excite, To change a life for the better.  
The rhythm that moves you, The words that persuade, The feelings and emotions That make you afraid.   Let them all go, They have nowhere to hide, They might as well flow,
Shall I dedicate myself to a beautiful insanity Or shall I suppress my curiosity, creativity? You can only go so far within syntax Poetry, I discovered, forgot it long ago
    When I talk about you  I'm very careful careful with words  like mine, my , ours  Cause Those nouns are possessive and you're not one of my possession  
People will judge you from you looks to you attutide  to your nails to your shoes that is what people do they wont remember your name unless you rise into fame and have money and expensive things
transportation vacation out side of reality within a box that encases me sound proof aloof in the space that embraces me
Who are you? You help make me, you birthed me , but who are you?
Many think that strenth lies within a number on a wieght. The truth is strength is measured within the mind. The mind of an ordinary person who has carried more than they can. Who has survived the storm.
Have    you    ever/spoken/    words    to      no one, or/have   you    spoken/to/everyone? No one         will/always/listen, while/everyone/will   only    listen/sometimes.
There's a word for the way sunlight streams through leaves There's a word for the feeling you get when you remember what to say after someone walks away There's a word for sentimental longing of the past
And as for us... We are like words. Apart, such vulnerability, or an innocence maybe but only existing alone. Like single words, you feel invaluable until connected with others,
We live in a broken world, I’ve heard it over and over before. Traditions are lost, morals corrupt - Only to be torn apart by war.   We build and we build Our cities stand tall overhead
The words fall from your lips, Ever so softly.
Very often. 
There is nothing I hate more than to watch people suffer with problems they could easily solve, all because they're too afraid to say something. Everyone has that thing they can't say to anyone else
I’m always talking about talking. Almost every poem I write stresses the importance of using your words, or the joys of finding your voice, or the pain that comes with being speechless,
The dark The room The candle, I held it   So I looked I listened I stood, in awe
Do you remember when you were little.
We all return to dust at the end of the day. There are a limited number of words you can say. Once the time comes, you remain forever soundless.   Use the words you are given,
They say the best writers write what they know, But lately I’ve been losing my mental going off my rocker all existential. I’ve been going off on points of tangency trying to crack the code that’s right in front of me.  
They only fester in the silence. Time is ticking. We should stop being quiet Because all they can do is fester in the silence.   The longer they fester, the worse the pain. Time is ticking.
  I believe in words, Beautiful words, Ugly words. Words that create, Words that destroy.   I can’t tell you enough, That words are my strength, That words are my weakness.
Music inspires seeds of intellectual concept to sprout from a fresh mind. Weeds find their way into a mix of ideals when the presence of spirit is in question.
The nostalgia sets in as I attempt to remember a time in my life without music:  
I am better at writingthan making a verbal speechso don't expect me to preach
Art,abstracted aesthiticSketching, painting, sculpting.Let the creativity flowcraftily.
A deep breath, inhale..exhale, a deeper thought follows.
  We finally learn how to work out the rhyme, And we see to move on and not worry for time.
I was born without the invitation of saying hello, yet you might say I was blind from rejection. I guess it was too hard to live a life of deception.
words buzz and spin in clouds of confused formation wheeling and turning, penetrating all corners and crannies with all of their information
“English Major” Just a mouthful of syllables Only a small bite that their teeth grind to dust Which they pour down my throat with a disapproving smirk To them, it gushes with the bitter taste of a prison sentence
I’m 15 and I dread waking up e
Words long lay dormant And out of reach, Like shells washed up On a barren shore They gave the turbulen expanse A settled beauty, But the waves left Nothing free.  
beat beat beating pound pound pounding Is it a heart? A fist? A drum? A speaker? Is it all not the same? Isn't everything that makes this sound of purpose worth the same?  
Words are that of a rain drop Words have flooded your lanes, stop See you drive through them thinking if you just keep driving, you can drive through it but you wont do it, words are to fluent
Growing up in DC aint so sweet as can be.
Honesty is honestly a rare commodity.
Words Are a powerful thing. Many can’t control it Many can’t comprehend the power words have on their lives, On other people’s lives. Words. One slip of the tongue,
I had a dream, it had me feeling like a Ma
I see people all around me They love making life better for their self some for ourselves
What are words?  but a mere creation of humans. No words can describe how I feel,  when I'm without you. No words can explain the feeling I get,  when I see you.
You denied my heart the happiness you promised to give.
You reminded me that love exists only in dreamers hearts.
You had me seeing poetry where there were only words.
You claimed you didn't mean them,
Isn't it funny that how I dress dictates your actions? 
Happiness is the time between absolute life and absolute death
Power is only possessed if it is allowed to exist
Hope is the heart telling you that you can win
Strength is what happens when when determination meets hardship and perseveres.
The memory of your last words ringing in my ears
The sea called, you answered; I waited, I make mistakes...
Feathers flew as cupids poisened arrow felled another lost soul
You told me I had a voice like an Angel. Then I saw the Devil's tail as you walked away.
Echoing down the hall your last foot steps fade away
I was seeing stars and tasteing blood in my brandy
The sun left with you, then I saw the stars.
Words cut deeper than mostly anything.
Is there anything as beautiful as the written word? If there is I’ve yet to see it Words can create pictures in your head They can take you to places you’ve never been before
"your body is the house you grew up in" he used to tell me, "all the paint may not be fresh and there are cracks in the doors but they make you more comfortable to live in, my dear"
sometimes i lie on top of you
Troubled spirits speak the most... Because so much pain has the words flowing like the tears we cry.
why judge others?
Lost. Drifting absently through a void, separating my adolescence from my truth. Fear snaps me out of my reverie.
I once told him that it was okay, I’ve been called worse.
 Truth is, I hadn’t.
 And when he hugged me and apologized
Is it okay if I cheat on you? Is it okay if I tell you goodnight I love you every time I go to sleep Is it okay if I lie to you and take in every word you say and chew?
Words kill more than bones heal. Yet we say sticks and stones.
My paper, Blank and voidNothing comes to mindAs I write, nothingInspire me I sayStill I have nothingMy poetic words, lost
College
you ask me what change is and what almost comes out  is a textbook definition a merriam webster’s  abridged edition
My Words The space before me is blank Bound by nothing but the edge of the page. Skilled fingers move the pencil across the page Leaving a trail of grey marks, By magic they connect together
They live inside my mind take shelter in all its corners weave themselves in my veins and race each other to my mouth dodging the filters of my teeth they slide down my tongue
I search, but never find the key that unlocks my mind. The truth to a lie, a clue to crime. A heart that never dies, a soul that never cry's.
Words I don't feel like saying I'm afraid of writing
A writer’s sword is a pen Green, blue, red, black, yellow ink Inside a long plastic contraption It spews words exempt for bigotry And hatred. A writer’s pen stops magic from happening during a
What is black and sometime color... Always escaping from everyone... Never the right thing... So meaningful... Yet so plain?   What is this mysterious thing... Always used...
 Steady trying to feel in this void. I find myself clenching the sheets, feeling it's texture. Smooth you would've thought... but, it's been layed in so long there's a change. Not one too noticable, but one only the owner knows of.
We slice our  lives down to 500 words, --Words which can't begin to describe us, Hoping for acceptance to write more words, --Words which will never be fully appreciated.   We freely offer our 500 words,
There is no way of telling What lies beyond reach
i am an introvert  a social retard unable to act human around even the closest to me. what comes with  these handycaps these countless curses sorrowfull setbacks is my words
Determined Warrior                 Pelted by deadlines             Mauled by knowledge             Held accountable for so many
Can you see it?   Hold your breath now, It's flighty like a bird.   Do you hear it?   It is quiet But it's hardly ever slurred   Can you feel it?  
humanity:world peace! humanity:fight fire with fire.   parents:be yourself! parents:stop being who you are.   humans:love thy neighbor! humans:god hates fags.  
This job will not only change my life. It will change the world. Words can stab like a knife But without them would anything change? In a world so corupt  With problems that can widely range
Chaos Habit Imagine    universe  creatures humans   infinite large small   indistinguishable measurable perspective  
They often don't think before they speak, Some words are strong,  While others are weak.  Some people are different, Some are strange. But those who are selfish, They must change.
This is their place, the place they freely roam; This is their place, the place they call, “Home”.  
  When I was eleven, I knew what I was going to do and how I was going to get there. I wrote because the world looked better through my eyes.
We are but paper Floating through the winds of life Our skin crinkling and tearing   There are words which are forgotten Carved and sunken in our flesh Speaking of our truths  
roses are red violets are blue sugar is sweet if only you were too   youve sreded my heart  like it was paper thin you crumpled my soul like a can made of tin  
someone gets a problem wrongthe other kid yells "retard"across the room the teacher says"don't say that""it's offensive"but why? why does a wordjust an arrangement of lettershave that effect?
Bold Dark presenceWreaks its havocAmongst the people,Poison’d human Morality,Degraded by Brutality,Guarded from Equality,Caged by harmful Mentality.
Out
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt.” What a load of shit this is. Clearly, the people who spew this phrase have never faced daggers of words, have they?  
Literature is as necessary to the mind as oxygen to the body, Reading helps the brain develop and imagination soar. Ranging from an ironic drama to a jocular comedy, Literature has several shapes, sizes and form.  
Even when I die My voice shall cry Immortalized through The mind`s eye   Even if I rot You will not forgot You will hear my poetry More than the ticking of the clock  
I won’t say the English language is beautifulyet it’s enormity turns me numbit’s a curse it seems (blessing too)
Sounds are all around. Some fill you up, some bring you down. Words can be daggers or soft as a feather.
The tattoos on my body are words. Read me like a novel, my body tells the story. Graze your fingers over the text, you'll see what will come next. The tattoo on my body signifies loyalty.
  Not so many years ago, poems made me smile.
Call me insane, but I'm trapped. In the confines of my house this time, not my mind. Maybe both. "Because you're a girl", replays like a broken cassette tape. Just bear it. Just breathe. Wait.
As she stood in the clearing with a circle of flames burning dangerously around her, her dark thoughts began coming to the surface.
'Where are you?', is what he called. The sweet childs sing-song voice called over the cloud of darkness. 'Where are you?', he calls again...giggling shortly after. 
These highway lines burn designs into my focused eyes eyes focused on a sight that blankets my mind a blanket of where only comfort resides This comfort, it's meaning, drowns my perception
they say words don’t hurt. sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never…   they’re wrong.   words will never bring tears they’re wrong. words will never cause death
I do believe in one God, but sometimes I have my doubts.I do believe in prayer, but it does not have to be said aloud.I do believe in going to Mass, but why particularly on Sundays?
Life is a glasshalf full of something or otherYet empty of something elseAnd no one can quite agree on whichOr remember that reallyIt’s all the sameBecause life is a glass half empty of time
What has this world come? Who says you arent beautiful if your not a size 2? People these days never seem to surprise me,always following the new trend. Well, i say today, today is the day it needs to end.
One Direction! Its like an infection Harry, Niall, Louis, Zayn and Liam Biggest boy band ever, It almost as if they gave me a fever I love them, yes I do.
A rainstorm of words, A twister of thoughts blunder inside my mind like a spinning top, It will not seize nor do I want it to; I am a writer and this is what I do,
  The thought of just putting them on one single page Frightens me It’s all me   That person is not just a person anymore They now have a label Not chosen, given.   Beautiful.
I use words to tell the world my thoughts throughout my day, But the most important words are the ones that I didn`t say. Ususally, I am not very open about my feelings to another,
You’re put into groups of those who are supposed To shut up and keep their heads down. You’re asked to “speak up” when spoken to And when you do without asking They tell you to “quiet down”
Words don't hurt she said Get over it they said Stop being sensative he said .....But you don't understand I said Words Hurt   Why do you care? she screamed Learn to walk away they screamed
You were taught as a kid to be nice not mean  but growing up you were taught to stand up for what you believe, so if a bully calls you out " your ugly, you stink , those eyes are too big" is it wrong to fight but
Words should never dare describe the agony at thy tainted hand Words be the mistress to thy soul Thy soul betrays thee. Wretched is the language, in which one must be expressed
The words I see transparent, I want to believe them but yet I know there outcome. As a plastic bottle, these words you speak, I've heard them all before. These recycled words
She thinks it's ugly,
Words have power beyond our control. The power to heal, the power to kill, They tell what has happened, and sometimes, what will.   Words paint pictures that are vivid and full.
It sucks to be alone Rather be alone than with deal with fakes Bestfriends??? I'm not sure they exist Not talking to many people Is something very rare Having to deal with things alone
there it is, the tapestry of the impassably steep. a precipitous rambling through numb metal music stands or beads with holes or girls named after states. the pass is steep. it force feeds nearly every
I’m so tired 
He reads his words. I listen to them, Ponder them, Then give feedback. We discuss his artwork, How he expresses himself, And I try to tell him How they affected me.  
Look once, Speak once, but before you do: Think twice.   Your Words,  they burrow deep, like grimy, sharp-clawed mice.   The syllables you say, nouns you don't mean,
"What is it that you don't like?" The words that haunt my every thought Longing to rush along my lips and spill out Filling in the crevaces of the space around me Words What do they mean
  I wonder if anything in life goes according to plan Or if there will always be these little bumps The kinks in the hose that won’t come undone
Sometimes being quiet is the best way to learn. Like its always been said open your ears close your mouth, open your eyes and see what others cant.
So many words slipping out of my tongue; Unspoken words, words unheard of. Words lost in the atmosphere scaterred within vibrations of itself. When you can't put your thoughts into sentences or,
You Understand Of Course by: Landen DeGraff (@simplylanden)  
An artist’s mind is often swallowed by indigenous thoughts. Trying to balance ones conceptions on a fine thread.
My heart is heavy.it is a wrecking ball: stone cold and rock solid.weighing me down.the weight of it,
Words Empty, fleeting, fickle words Do this assignment, read these pages How many words do you speak in a day? How many of them actually mean something? God spoke and breathed life
Sometimes I get horrible waves of deep, deep sorrow. They come on soft,
Bullying, A double edged sword.   You take the pain, But what is it like to inflict it?   You find your target, You spit out some words, That have been spat at you.  
I sit and write, and I'm writing now. I listen to my mother howl, I watch my brother sulk and scowl, I hear my cat scamper and prowl. I sit and write, and am writing now. I sit and write, and take a pause.
I am the black girl sitting in the back of your classroom The black girl that deals with racism day after day
Innevitability: we all must go to school.
Believe it or not, you mold us. For every word, action, complement, insult  toward us, is a building block to our esteem, determining how tough, or rough,  we are.
I cry when I don’t write because I am unable to speak. 
The flavor dances to the tip of my tongue; Of the luscious sweetness of the first hello; Biting at the first taste what life has strung; And spitting out my past below.   My first hello of my new career;
What a wonderful time; For a wonderful change; To celebrate America's; Another coming of age.   Oh beautiful our country is; Another year to renew; United we stand;
Every year; You'll grow one year older. You'll be more mature; And you'll be much bolder.   There is a special time; In every person's life; To experience something new;
I'm having these weird feelings; For a fellow friend. I always think about him; Even when he's out of sight.   When he speaks to me; It's like music to my ears.
Oh what things I wish I could have said; That I would taste rolling on my tongue; The sweet and sugary words of not so cliche; And the sour spite of not feeling wrong.
To hear, if only I could hear. To hear those words so soft and fruitful. To hears suchwords when I am youthful. Time goes by and so does this rhyme, but riddle me this,
Music is in everything, it is everywhere. From the gravitating pull of rocks avalanching down a mountain, to the sound of my fingers caressing my scaple through my hair.
There's no such thing as time, time is simply a way to organize the human mind, let me teach you a lesson, the clock ticking on the wall is an illusion of progression,
You’re afraid of what could happen So you constantly keep up a wall You are in a constant battle But aren’t we all?
A poem is a bunch words scattered on a line. "What is a word?" is what comes to mind. A word is a random combination of letters That connect well in hope to make things better.  
I am a girl of love, Compassion and trust, Most of all I'm a girl of opinion. And if you don't like it, I suppose you're pretty opinionated yourself.
Have you ever felt that feeling, Where time flies way too fast? You're only half way through your freshman year, And you're already looking back. Was there ever a moment, When you thought it'd never end?
Touch Connect Feel Hold Horror, Fantasy, Adventure, and More Genre for everything and everything is genre Book Stores, Libraries, Books Nooks, and more
I'm not a writer, I just think a lot.  In a world so crossed and diverse ideas arise and many a times people get lost.  How can we find our way back?
Dreams  Like a child's toy Played with by imagination But time goes by The child grows old The toy stays the same The toy sits there Taking up space Waiting to be put into action
Someone wielded them like a dagger, And pierced your tender heart. Someone turned them into arrows, And shot them into your soul.   But words that flow from my mouth, Will be a healing salve.
. . . As of now I'm sitting here in my bedroom thinking Of the truth behind the lies and the games  It's such a shame that I'm hurting deep within of the bones that hold my frame What is there to do now but to wait . . . .
Don’t call him weird You’ll crush him Don’t call him “special” He’ll be suspicious Don’t baby him Dumb it down, make it easier He can see right through you Even if he won’t say so  
I am the girl who tears scraps of poems and tapes them to her bedroom walls So she can read them before she sleeps One night she dreams about a flying man Tearing open the world’s rusted skin
  Simply Twenty-Six Letters
The worst thing to know is when the words won’t come. What is poetry? Once it was the music of your soul, and now there is naught but silence. You struggle with your collection of words,
Tapping the pencil against a desk, the scraping of a chair across the hardwood floor,running fingers along the keys of a piano lost in thought,                       what is that intangible, sweet tasting sound I've come to adore? My ears have per
Sometimes making you feel like a prisoner, sometimes making you feel set free. Sometimes making you feel like a criminal, sometimes making you feel like a king.
You screamed at me As the tears slowly Streamed from your eyes And you never told me why All you told me is Don't be like me baby boy Grow up and be smart So your kids won't steal toys
Ink in the bowl goes on to skin Culture from Africa to Americas Indians Ink that is absorbed into the mind Held in place forever in time
My friend and I were talking one day and he asked me, "What do you think about the state of downtown?" I thought about this question for a second and said...
Love, Deep love, Why? I am Vile! Villainous, Mischievous Destructive, Productive Seclusive, Inclusive Hate, Deep hate, Why? I am, I! Represent, Comprehend
We got into a fight today. I didn’t get a black eye but an empty spirit when words you spat tore through my flesh with burning sensations.   Your work left no visible marks.  
Music reminding me of you, Is the music that's most sweetest. Places that we were, Makes places more beautiful. The words that you spoke, Made words seem so powerful. People that remind me of you,
Red and green bows Puffy, flared skirts Ballerinas, An instructor standing in the middle of the hall All attention focused on him With his long staff in hand And then I see them The girls,
Wordless is Worldless. Without imagination. A curse of darkness.
You walk in the room My hands begin to shake You look at me My heart pounds I can feel it fighting to jump through my skin You begin to speak
Hey, Teach! Yeah, you- Coach of that game. I have an A in your class And you don't know my name. Your main focus are those guys, The "populars", the jocks. But I have talent too,
  A piece of parchment, sealed in a glass case Only for the words that are scribed across it. Not for paper it’s written on, or the appealing handwriting.  
Horror is an empty word Loss, Bereavement Terror, Desperation Torment all are such empty words There are no words not in English, Arabic Greek, or German to describe
Words can mean everything, / Or nothing. / Words bring you joy, / Or despair. / Words show you're wise, / Or foolish. / Words can give confidence, / Or heartbreak. / Words can be heard, / Or ignored. / Words can teach, / Or destroy.
When I think of words I think of numbers, or knights Or of nights When the sky is an inky black the kind your fingers Almost slip into Like a sleeve, or oil
If I say anything, would you be shocked that I spoke? Yes I may be quiet and shy but what is the problem? I just don't have much to say...why judge? Why judge the fact that I'm quiet? Would you like for me to speak as loud as the eyes could see.
  Words They are such an everyday thing A mundane thing A simple thing But they are so powerful Have you considered the power of words The Bible The Constitution
Word Jamming. Those were the first two words that popped into my head. Hmph.
Words are too solid concrete hard to encompass my feelings.   Feelings are flexible fluid liquid airy   They run and run and run
The words surface in my mind; streaming, roaring, Clicking together like pieces of a puzzle, From word to poem.
I was told to write a poem, a poem describing myself. Myself is like this poem forced to be written a certain way. Not too long, but not short sometimes funny, happy, and sad.
Set down your pen, Look to the sky, At the birds around you And how they fly. Their wings of paper Their calls make words.   Words that float in the air And settle on the ground,
I am… The rainbow is contained within dark brown wood and a million colors. Yet I am just one color.   Quiet, alone, yet surrounded by others.   I sit on that
The color of his eyes are like diamonds. That stare through my soul.  Beautiful eyes, blue or green.  As green as the grass but with a simple switch of his mood,  turning as blue as the sky and ocean. 
Will this gun violence ever stop? Will we have to wait till we've heard the trigger click of the last glock?
Why would I want To be the face That launched a Thousand ships When I can be the Words that restart A million hearts?
There's a girl I knew Who wore a curtain over her face That blurred the person underneath And stole her precious personality   She lived on cloud 9 In a house made of broken hearts
At the end of the day everything is done for a single idea. A single feeling. And that is happiness.   Happiness is not an object. It is not a person place or thing.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!I wake up to my alarm going off...another day,another scar. I slowly get out of bed and set to my morning chores.I take a shower, get dressedthen I put on the darkest make up,to express my feelings. I skip breakfast...
Unforgettably forgettable  You never paid attention to her, not even if it was critical  The society would see her, but she would still feel invisible You'd hear her name, and intimation owls go, "who?" 
So you ask, Why Do I Write ? I write because I trust no one but my self. I write because what I have to say is closer to the truth than what another says. I write because its a stress reliever. 
A blank page   just sitting, waiting,   for my words.   A blank page   just sitting, waiting,   for an adventure.
Scribbling ink,letting goof words that needed to breathe.Do you feel better now?Now that your thoughts havebeen let out of their caves,dark places where their breath had
The theatre is small and close and everyone inhales everyone elses' laughter and tears and the cheering makes me wonder if we were all friends in another life, or if we've just become friends because of now.
  The words envelope me, Comfort me, Free me, And let me speak without saying a word. Each sylabl ringing, clearing my mind, and rolling off my tongue with every annouciation.
  Why do I write? I have something to say Words don’t come out of my mouth They come out on the page.   Once an elder sage had explained it this way: “saying nothing sometimes says the most”
I cannot make flowers growin the parts of myself I don't take enough care oflike my mindand my heart. I cannot repair those who are brokenand I cannot healthose who hurt.
Why do I write?
My Poisonous Words When I’m silent, I do think, Compose my thoughts before I speak, Hide your heart behind a shield,
I must confessthat it is difficult to find the proper wordsto express how, exactly, I feel.I must confess that I dread explaining myselffor fear that my eradic thoughtswould convince you of my unintelligence.
Led by a Voice from within Words slip off my pen  without my knowledge.   They are not my Words  yet my hand delivers them.   These Words are spoken slowly, 
I read their words and my heart breaks openWords of the soul that were never spokenCreations of the mind that were made to beVisions of their realityMy soul takes in their endless life
There is something powerful among us – something often overlooked It can be few, It can be many;   There is something powerful among us – something that conquers even time
This crazy , catastrophic heart of mineCan only be mended with words in a line.The turmoil that's always going on in my brain?Words are the only thing that keep me sane.
  From the moment my lungs  took notice of the smog-filled air  I heard my older sister saying, “Words have power.”  I wanted to believe.  That, when I mixed a piece of 
When I was young My Daddy read me stories as I drifted to sleep And I watched in awe as the peaceful melody of words evolved into symphonic wonder; a castle, a wish, a hope shone in my Daddy’s eyes.  
Words change, propel, inspire, Words give, comfort, guide, Words cripple, damage, diminish, but, words connect. Words connect hearts, sentences, and people. And words destroy connections just the same.
Words can be spoken, written, or sung; they can be lost in the stars, or on the tip of our tongue. They are such small things
There is a special Secret power In words They create heroes Craft new worlds Share adventures Word can be Used by Evil To spread poison Lies Hate They can be
Say it to me again, I dare you. At first it was nothing. A black hole- Empty, no meaning. But, you feed it so much. It grows, being filled: filled with anger, tearing souls.
  I can talk a lot, Now. But it was poetry that taught me how. Before my sentences were jumbled up phrases only I could understand, With with minimal explaining.
I write because the words give me no rest. They are voices in my mind and they pester and whine to be set free They are soldiers waging war their battle cries both music and
  I don’t write for myself I don’t often write poetry Words are use to express emotions But what happens when the words don’t come?   God. He sends a message, a plea, a vision.
The word must get out Without a sound, It must be louder than a shout!   The word is not heard Nor is it seen, It must be felt within the heart!
From day one we learn We see the faces, hear the voices School, as we grow  Lessons, every year One thing we always gather WORDS From the voices From our teachers From our lessons
Generation Gap   Now I type but then in times Before this our culture used symbols as words. Indus spoke an indecipherable language to us now. To unearth their meaning even so long after
 A poet knows There are one thousand ways to tell a lieAnd only one way to tell the truthA poet knows That sometimes a lie makes a better storyThan any truth ever wouldA poet knows that people speak Sometimes without thought or purposeBut simply b
Music is my heroin. Headphones are my needles. Being able to drown you out is my highI dont tlk about my feelings. I do musical therapy. I feel better without talking.
Words are made of feelings, A breeze on a summer night. Words are made of real things, Fire from a candlelight. Piled together... just words? Or something a little deeper?  
Tell not a truth Speak a falsehood Underneath the mask the veneer We are all the same Rotten to the core Little Liar  Take the stand Tell us your truth The lie you have built
Words swirl around in the mind, bringing meaning to an otherwise dreaded and foreboding existence. Words on paper or on screen keep the dark at bay for me. All that's needed is a pen
Contain the emotions, We use, For expression, Unravel the meaning,  In every letter, Word, Sentence, Breath as you decode the rhythmic pattern, See the fine printed words among the page,
You drive me to the edge again and again  But I hang on to the ledge With my pen The rocks at the bottom are razors I'm slipping Words are my savior   Feelings and memories triggered
A troubled mind Coupled with A wounded heart Shelter finds In words and lines That bring about Through verse and prose A peace of mind That holds a power And mine alone
I did not grow up with poetry.I grew up with music.Yet, to me, the former is no different from the latter.     Toes waving in the pool of words beneath me.
across the universe,i fall into the sky.lucy is there,as it rains she cries,"dear prudence,don’t pass me by.”
What is a life with out words, Words are everything, Without words how do we communicate? Even they talk; the birds, They have a nice ring, Words decipher at a fast rate, I was first persuaded by Nick,
How are feelings expressed? Through words? Through voice? Just one sound or one word can illuminate ones heart,  it grows and becomes a never ending cycle. It continues to grow until it spreads across the world like a wildfire,
What the English language truly lacksIs all the words for loveA mother, a brother, a friend or a loverWe love different from one another.
  Why close an eye on a stormy day? Is it the fear that keeps you, or within are you shy of the matter? Ever flowing medicine that cleanses within. Words. All are taken, all are removed.
This paper understands me. It catches the words that bleed from my mouth. Cushions the blow as they fall to my desk. This page is the place where I don't have to hide. My pen is the bike for an open mind ride.
In need of escape. Solace found from black on white. Addict with a pen.
The words get away from me Sometimes Like tricky little bandits Dodging meter Ducking rhyme   They leave me silently, days And nights A bumbling ballerina Slipping and sliding
Writing is my escape; To a different world it takes me. Any character I can personalize, Any event I can create.   Writing is my savior; Changing my bad mood into the happiest.
Words are uniform, Everone has some, Yours could be the same as mine, But without my emotion behind them! I say the first, But then I burst! Unstoppable like a hero!
Habitually Speechless, attacked by my violent mind, my mouth is a blocked exit. Slammed against the glass of revolving doors, turning with no direction,
Ideas and words scrambled in the mind on the author Waiting for their moment to shine to an audience That is in turn waiting to hear the wisdom in the words. Ideas and words that mean so much more
Your speech‒paring knives‒ Could’ve cut away the carcass  in us, you know, peeled back our fears, sliced insecurities  to expose the inward seeds, if only for gentle precision.
Pen to paper, ink to letter, Word to phrase, line after line, Rhythm and rhyme, beating in time, Meaning so fine, inspiriation mine, Never will quit, the heart of the poet, Starts when he knows it,
Words on pagesSpeak in the silenceFill the blank spacesMake thoughts clearer Throughout the agesWords and their powerStole and stirred heartsGave strength and hope
Everything just keeps going, but no one is aware of the heartbreak that has been set before me. At the hands of a paperback book all of my emotional stability has crumbled to dust.
All great writers suffer from a disease,a sickness,categorized solely by insanity.Logophilia -the love of words,the passion of diction.Hemingway,Bukowski,Plath,they all were poisoned.
My Catharsis   I write, To release my pain.   My catharsis, Carries secrets: Loves lost. Loves gained.   Strained by defeat, My soul softens.  
Sometimes I dream That I will see them again My momma My poppa But when I wake All I can see is darkness I do not breathe in air This is pure musk that fills my lungs
People feel. They laugh, They cry,The scream. Whose job is it to solidify these feelings?  Who is it that proves their existence at all? It is the Writer. It is the Poet.
I bleed words; They exit my body with a flow. All the syllables in my head, Must have somewhere to go. Paper receives, With the most open mind of all. It doesn't criticize,
Proposed to my notebook with a pen in hand, sealed the deal with a handshake.Hoping maybe this relationship will function properly because it’s only so much rejection possible that a man takes.
The world before me Is dark and dangerous What lies ahead Is foreign and uncertain   I write on paper What I am unsure of So that maybe my words Can guide me to answers  
Every war that was ever fought all began with a single thought. They are such powerful things: the start of relationships and flings. One thing leads to another and your thoughts become words.
Reasons. 
I know why the caged bird sings, To tell me the message, That of which Maya Angelou wrote for me, She wrote it for me, Just for me, You see, Sometimes I need a little pick-me-up,
Simple, little words They are the only sure way To express myself.   My terrific words They hold infinite meaning Portraying my life.   My humble, small words
 
What is poetry but words?  Words on pages, words on screens Words hiding in heads, caught on the edge of screams. Why do I love words so? Why do I write?  I can breath just fine without poetry
Word upon word, page upon page This is why I write Escape the hurt and pain, all the realities of this world I am a warlock, the pen is my wand And with it I create My imagination fuels my passion
What is it that gives a word power Is it the tone of your voice, the way you emphasize, and prophesize Or does it come from your soul, pouring out every second, every hour
She breathes into me Like a gentle wind On a hot summers day. She feeds me all I need And gives me all I like. Filled with such a beauty, I am never alone. For words and writings,
I'm standing at the edge of the wood                                                                                                   Birds Lullibies hang in the still air                                                                           
My greatest friendship Has lied within the tip of the pencil That which moves In many forms.   Syllables that dance around The atoms of the paper And rejoice After every rhyme.  
Words can be like birds on wings Helping chase the stars But words can also cut like knives Leaving invisible scars Words can take the darkest mood And light it up so bright
I write because I go through hard times  Family and friends are not always there Most of my problems rhyme I do not always share   People just look at physical appearance
A little girl built a mighty fortress,Words. Of complexity and undeniable eloquence,What she hoped to be inside.
The words you use are like a sharp knife Piercing the flesh of a human life Maybe this time they'll just take it or Maybe this time they just won't make it Wish they would understand their power
  Sheila was the biggest girl in fourth grade With skyscrapers as legs and eagle wings as arms, She looked down at the rest of us, and liked it that way too. No one ever told her what to do. Not even Ms. Johnson.
Words that tortureWords that blessWhat shall put my thoughts to rest? Heart held captiveBy the mindFeelings ever left confined Words that tortureWords that hauntConsequence of fate unkind
  What would words say if they could speak? Would they tell the story on how they were created? Or like a child they’d answer “I don’t know where I get my name from my mommy named me.” Or do they even know their creator?
The release of words Oh such a powerful thing To express such joy or to ease the sting Of the lives we have lived Or the of the lives that have gone on to pass
  I open my mouth to speak But the words stick to my throat. My mind wills me to say something But my voice is lost in the roar of the crowd. It is then that I pick up a pen,
There he stands each night, looking down into the water. He searches for the lovely girl, who lives under the waves.   It was there she sunk, deep into the water.
Poems are different worlds of rhyme, Of freestyle, meter and syncopated time. They provide a method of escape - of retreat, For poems allow simple words to make an entire universe complete.  
  A dream seems like such a harmless thing  but one day its bound to grow  with a fresh pair of wings  it flies and it flies high  far from reach and far from thought
    My tongue twists in rapture, Captivated by the banquet of sounds to choose from. Without doubt, this sundry is a soundboard forced to play only 1-4.
So these words messy messy words get combobbled in my head. Screwed around with tossing and turning like they're on a high seas adventure of epic porportions.  And some can't hold on 
Music Clashing sounds Rhythmic beats All ensuing me Revolving around my aurora Till it finally enters my body, euphoria Causing my internal energies to move, enigma;
Hidden system, rules function like clockwork in my head Crank, crank, crank: the demands on the system More work, more power, more output required
You Walk Around With A Gun In Your Hand So You Assume That Makes You Tha MAN? You Disrespecting Your Mother So I Know You Respect No Other But It's Respect That You Demand Because You're "THE MAN"
  Words.  Whether you read them backwards  or read them forwards.  They are still only words.  Racecar. Kayak. Level.  They are still only words.  Whether you say them with meaning 
I’m always confined By others who live merrily outside my cage I’m alone and in this constant bind Nothing, but me, myself, I and a page It’s as blank as my future with nothing to find
in second grade my librarian wrapped vines of fingers to grow over my shoulder and lead me to a section designated for fifth grade and up     glittering titles
I bleed words into emply spaces.  They crawl onto pieces of paper.  They flow in conversation.  They reside on my digital screen.   I bleed words to set me free.  They carry me when no is around.
Unknown to many words are words with power with ink with pixels.   A single atom makes our words an interest a connection a meaning.   I write for the art
To live forever is a hopeless dream, Humans are meant to come and go from here, Life is not something that you can redeem,
In times of trouble the river flows beside me Comforts me, soothes me Leads me to exicting places   The river carries words and fits them together in little crevices by the rocks
Words were spoken of hate,   Whispers of love.   And although we both loved   And hated,   Hate got to us.   We thought we’d be hurt by another.  
Today,I am a poet.I can feel the wordsWelling up within me,LIke a smile I have not yet freed.
Sometimes the intensity in my mind overflows  And the pulsing electric eclectic ideas spill onto anywhere it pleases, Most often paper.   
They say it's the gun that we should fear. But listen to this. This gun that I hold, listen to it, it cannot walk, talk, or feel. This gun cannot be held responsible for actions of a hurt heart.
A Teenagers scrimmage and a young adults threshold.
Poetry is images as words
In the sixth grade my eyes were opened. Poetry became a powerful and wonderful form of expression. It seemed to ooze out my brain like warm, chocolate syrup. I matured through broadening
Spoken words At times they are futile Feeble Unable to express our thoughts Our hurts Our confusion Our deepest secrets.   And so there they lie, trapped inside No way of escape
Why
Why do I write?Is it because the wordsstop at the tip of my tongue?Is it because when I try to speak,nothing but a croak emerges?
I will not hold back, even if it's the last thin i do, i will stick to my plans and keep moving on, for I am sweet and caring in the outside world, but I am strong-willed at heart.
Words are windows From the past to the present, From the present to the future. They separate Those of yesterday from those of today, Those of today from those of tomorrow,
I’m depressed which is probably normal for a teenager suppressed from any social life because I balance eight classes, seven school activities, eating, sleep, procrastination  and more sleep.
All the words between the pages claiming my humble heart, meek mind, tattered soul. My heart, I think, is soon to be influenced by swift words, crafted lines, touching stories.
Writting isn't just something of a pen on paper, words on a computer screen. Words that are filled with joy, sadness, tragedy and heartbreak. Giving your thoughts out to the world in hope of helping others.
When stress bothers where I lay, a poem becomes the sweet lullaby that keeps it away. When I am feeling something that is hard to express, a poem helps me do my best. When ideas are hard to put on paper,
Your words are like a pistol going off, releasing violent gestures. Mind absent of the sense of safety and security, aslo the well being and feelings of others.
Holy waters of the United States, Wash away the cherry blood on his hands, My voice calls out like David's precious lamb, So lost in the valley of death and hate.
Words swirl inside my head like pillars of light, I grasp onto the strands and wait: I wait for them to makes sense, Incoherent buzzes of truth are all I have.
Rowing, dipping the oars into diction Words I refrain from dripping Onto anything but paper— In case of them sinking.
I'm busy. But the words are begging to be free. I'm tired, But the emotions won't leave me. I know I must give vent somehow. I sit. The writing begins, now.
Vow
They never saw it coming, there was just the quiet before the storm. A call was made to their home, their mother answered the phone. Then the emotional storm started.
I choose my words because of their freedom the freedom they fought for they fought for me. I, too, am a warrior my weapons are my words. They are sharp and shocking, smooth and soothing.
How bizarre is it for one To sit on their hardwood bedroom floor, black ink bleeding from their pen onto lined college ruled paper? She never liked words, she never liked reading, and books were her ennui.
You've got my mind working overtime Stole my heart, you've done the crime I can't find the words I should say- Hearing from you brightens my day Say to voice my feelings for you
All I could do was walk, And look, and touch, and feel. Never did a word compare, The world before my hands.
Is it truly never enough for such a word to be understated? to question its power and under rate it? to be sorry is it not enough?
I love to dance. Smooth, languid, ignoring the lines and boundaries. I can dance my way into your heart with one flick of my finger, my tiny dancers. And make you despise me with one more.
They presume themselves great They see themselves as masters Twisting words to their design It doesn't work that way It sounds hollow to the tormented And they can't help but question "Who are you
My words are swift and smooth like a lyricist. Words are a form of expression and emotion. Emotion, in which something that can be felt. Expression, in which something that can be shown.
Please, be my words; I know it sounds absurd But you got my lips moving Forming sentences—I’m improving On finding my voice; to speak on my choice In this case, it’s you.
It's what they do For others To express To voice To show For myself To be heard To organize To find
I write to feel. And I write to dream. I send my words, to the knowledge stream. Through my words I speak And through my words I grow. If I did not write, you would not know.
Poetry’s the motivation Poetry’s the conversation Poetry’s the words that you can’t express Poetry’s the friend that spills words onto the page We got Acrostic Epitaph Classicism And Doggerel
A girl with a silent struggle Words caught in her throat Carefully blended in Edges too blurred Easily missed. Someone with a name But a name of no distinction. “What’s in a name?
Words have power. They can spark a movement, fuel a revolution, inspire an entire nation to throw off the bonds of oppression. Words can flatter. They can simper and sigh and bat their eyelashes
Why not write a world of art? With material abound, One word after another, This writers speeding thoughts come together. A few strokes, a big practice. The life line of communication, business,
Listen to the heart of the bass The beat of the rhythm The taste of the lyrics that flows so smoothly through the tunes of nature. The music that makes my heart dance and my lips sing, sing the song of melody.
Enigmas pulsing through my mind, Wordless and trapped. Emotions flicker through my psyche, Unremitting and unforgiving. How can I release all I'm feeling In a deluge that refuses To be formed with words?
Life is coming at you quick There is no place to turn College is upon you Adult hood is upon you Life - is upon you Those days are gone The days of sitting down at tables French-fries in hand
She was sixteen when she first started I've never seen someone so unique and bighearted The reasoning for her chronic smile was quite effortless She wrote poetry in a manner so burlesque
I worry that I am not a good writer and that I am just fooling myself. And maybe I am, But I will not be one to leave necessary words unsaid. To you, they may seem a wicked waste of paper
feelings can be hard to keep hold of sometimes it's sorta like when i was younger and i'd try to chase the moon from the car's backseat
“Empacó un par de camisas, un sombrero Su vocación de aventurero, seis consejos, siete fotos Mil recuerdos”
Our life is Fragile, our life is short So when life took you I didn't know where to go I found myself visiting the places we’d been Reminiscing of the times you stood next to me The more I remembered the more I cried
Words can be quite powerful things With all the emotion that they bring They make descriptions more beautiful They make your speech more powerful It all lies in the choice of a word
I have oh-so very many words to say They build up and swell in my noggin all day. They churn and tumble about in my head And pester me long after I've gone to bed. There are short words, And l o n g words,
Coal black attacks like razor knives, And grips and rips your dreams good-bye. It calls your name—oh countless lives Have no known clue what myst’ries lie.
(poems go here)
I'm not exactly the one to talk. Ask me to speak and I will stutter. But it's not just that. I'm scared.
Give me your pain every ounce of it Drop every single drop into my mouth Let me taste it swallow it, consume it When your pain is in me, you are in me I am you, but you are not me.
In essence Innocence In a sense
The power of words, is awesome to behold. They build and they break, they furl and they fold. A simple word, empowers a man, Or throws his hopes, his dreams in the can. Such simple devices, such miniscule tools,
If I could put my feelings into words, I'd speak of things you've never heard. I know the words would make you believe, And your mind would require no questioning. The words would simply capture your heart--
Words are all I've ever wanted to say. Words are all that get in the way. After all who listens, when it's all words than resurrection.
You push him down you call her names causing so many frowns and so much shame Why do you need to push and shove is it from greed? or a lack of love?
Is this wrong Or is it right This word love It evokes a thunder within my heart A freezing rush of painful memories Gliding gently across the lens of sight Some where it happened in these memories
I stand there, taking your hateful, tasteless stares. But I don't dare cringe, for I fear that would be giving you what you want. I walk directly into your vile comments,
i am neesey my friend is freep stickation to normalicy thats our motto ironically witty thats its translation to use dictionary words when you can invent some is a forfeit
My Christ, lord and savior, reign down on me. I just wish everyone could see ya! And the truth to be seen! How can I show my God, when all i do is sin. Ball my life up in a wad,
There is power in words, more power than we know. If we knew the damage they caused, would it even show? Our fists are blunt weapons, but words pierce the heart. Our bodies heal naturally, but our minds stay torn apart.
(poems go here) I have to put this in as few words as possible, the thinks that I see which are optical, Days are starting to run close together, and the only way I can tell a difference is by the weather, when i wake up I humble myself and bow d
Twenty six letters composing a phrase, Letters that have the power to break chains, Whether they exist in books or essays, Penetrate my heart, running through my veins.
I write poems of anger Thoughts, frustrations Joy and fear As a means of putting out The words that come and swarm in My head like bees
Words Unscrupulous floating isomers Voluminous connotations Sewn to fields of intrepid product Affixed by rindles of ink and lead Daisy chains of phonemes, morphemes are Carry the world on their back
When I go meet God, I'm gonna have to give myself up to you. Lose my life, lose my heart, lose my soul! I have been dirty and broken and don't deserve your love.
So this is my first poem on here. What is it supposed to be? Is it supposed to be about me? Do I show who I am, As if my clothes are sheer? Or should I just go grab a beer.
You gave me life, my first breath taken was yours first. You loved me before I knew who I was. You watched over me while I slept, Letting peaceful dreams take me to a world not my own.
Words are the foundation of language And language is the means through which we express ourselves It can be POSITIVE It can be NEGATIVE It can HELP people It can HURT people
Where were you mom on my first day of school? Where were you mom when that first A rolled through? Where were you mom to know your child’s favorite colors? Other moms know theirs you don’t even bother.
It seems ridiculous to me Spectacularly arranged Uniquely designed Strings of that which is hear laced together in particular patterns, so necessary A carnal infusion
The Words Hit You Like Endless Bullets. Face Them Head On, Never Give Way To It. Heard It Once, Heard It Twice. The Words They Through Out Are Meant For Your Demise.
A ripple in the distance calls, Softly falling on this stranger’s ears. I feel it dripping on my brain already, Inviting me to drain assumption. Soon my consciousness is saturated,
Remember When things weren't so complicated When words weren't hidden meanings And we were raw human beings? When "I love you" meant I love you and "I do" meant "I do"
Everyday I walk down these halls terrified I can feel the stares and read their lips Calling me anything they can think of Just to hurt me My mind fools me Making me think I'm strong enough to take it
Mechanics English is not enough Sentiment cannot be bound by syntax Punctuation cannot portray passion Grammar cannot grant the grieving soul grace Words Words are a well to a worn world
i remember starting kindergarten and having so much fun but then that fun ended in grade one with a spunk to say your fat and as other kids began to join i remember that i only had one friend in grade four and then none no one to talk to when it
If I could give you anything Anything, anything at all I would give you the gift of words Words spurred from a place deep within you, Words buried so deep, The word “deep” itself
I hear whispers... Whispers in the wind... Echoing through my mind... Each time the sound is dimmed... They have yet to be spoken and never will, Nor written on paper, with pen, or quill
What is an 'if' What is a 'what' The same as an 'as' Yet different than an 'an'
Im tired of misunderstanding and foolish hypocrisy People thinking this is an autocracy Where no one sees the right but walks in the wrong Trying to push forward searching for the place they belong
I like you when you speak Speaking words from the many universes inside of you Thoughts dance in your mind and overflow from your mouth As if they were trying to break free
There are many things I hate, And this being one, I hate when the words, Slip off the tip of my tongue. Why did they leave? At exactly the wrong time, And where are they going? Those words were mine.
Oh dear precious, How precious you are and beauty that consists within thee. Just like a stamp, pressed hard to a piece of paper, leaving the marks identical mirror image, such as you, a mirror image of me.
words words more than a sigh words words make me cry the painful memory from all this negativity
They wanted to call us colored But what did colored mean To a population with crops dying Radiation spewing across the sky Changes from green to dead And blue to hidden
Think before you speak. Before you DO, you gotta THINK. Actions. Consequences. Decisions. Words. In essence that's all they are. And yet, they're everything.
My mother’s embrace is my home and in her arms I am never alone. People attack me with words, words that pierce my soul like daggers. I am not fierce nor am I bold so I cannot help the tears that pour like rain as I am in pain.
Deceitful words unkempt By the comb of a human conscience Mistakenly exempt From Karma’s omniscient province Is truth given attempt? Or are falsehoods your native parlance?
It is all said with silence Although no words are spoken, a million words are heard Words of disappointment, shame and failure Words that ignite discouragement and extinguish pride
Everywhere; Everywhere I would settle All I could find is beautiful people. Sparkle of their beauty, sparkles like stars However, there is one I call treasure. She shines more than other stars in the galaxy
A word composed of letters A word composed of syllables A baby can say a word A Mom can say a word A Doctor can say a word A Lawyer can say a word But how you say these words matter
Whisper, whisper why so deafening? Release the earth from its bind Agony will never find its voice Blood-stained soil screams your name Raging against the fate of mankind Whisper, whisper why so deafening?
Words are so tiresome, they say many things. they never get a break or rest, they put your know how to the test.
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