So, I was trying to find some old poems of mine in an attempt to draft some insporation. Little did I know, my Myspace still had some old blueprints. Yes, Myspace of all places. Well, thirty minutes later, I still have no inspiration, so here the old bones, resurrected after years of collecting dust.
GIFT
Oh angels on white wings, may you take your flight
Protect this good soul who wanders tonight
Show her that love can still be found
Show her that life is still unbound
Make her a fire
Ensure that it’s bright
Fill it with warmth
To guide her soul right
For she hopes someday she will find
Love
Happiness
Hearts
That are kind
Oh angels will you bring her back to me
So I can show her how it used to be
And give her hope
And help her cope
And hold onto her old frayed rope
Give her an undoubtable reason to live
For I have a gift to whom I should give
I give her my heart in her time of need
I give her my soul so she can believe
In a time and a place where the pain goes away
Where the corruption is gone and the purity stays
Oh angels on high grant me this wish
So she may live on in eternal bliss
I wrote GIFT for a friend who was going through some rough times. She still has it to this day, and now I'm sharing it with all of you to look upon in your dire times.
UNTITLED
Make me…
Beautiful
Forever
Corrupted
Never
Make me something I am not
So all the past may be forgot
Make me deaf and make me blind
Make my mirrors all unwind
I told someone I loved them once so very long ago
She took my heart and took my life and now I'll never know
And when she stepped outside the door surprised was she to see
That another lonely soul was looking back to comfort me
He said make sure you stand up tall and hold your head up high
For as long as its still beating then your heart will never die
So look back in the mirror and tell me what you see
"I see myself and no one else
Are you whats left of me?"
I turn for answers but he was gone
The door was open wide
I crawled back in my hole of black
And let out many sighs
But sun broke through the darkness
Hands outstretched towards me
This place isnt real
Nor is what you feel
Don't trust what your eyes see
But if I cant trust myself alone then what am I to do?
Youll find a way
And see some day
Whats left inside of you
So look back in the mirror and look in for quite a while
Remember your face
Remember your grace
Remember how to smile
So I walked outside the door and found myself a brand new world
Where all is green
And nothing's mean
Where I've never been before
Make me…
Peace
I remember writing this one. I was going through a pretty rough time myself, needless to say. The poem makes it obvious. But, I like happy endings. And like this poem, my life is getting better all the time. Suck it haters.
THE DREAM
Flying...
Falling...
Dying...
Crawling...
You may cry and you may scream...
This is your life, you are your dream...
You make your tale, you scream it loud...
Your thoughts are lost within a crowd...
Without a heart, without a care...
Maybe a dream or just a nightmare...
Will you wake up,
Alone...
Worn...
Scared...
Torn...
Do you dream of your first breath...
Or do you dream of your death...
Will someone wake you or will you wake yourself...
Will you cry for love, or will you cry for help...
For life is never as easy as it seems...
That's why I spend my life within my dreams...
So if you see me passed out on the ground...
Leave me alone and turn around...
You may think helping me is the right thing to do...
But I'd rather have my dream than have you...
For a while, I was obsessed with the of life versus dreams. I made a couple poems regarding the subject, and they turned out pretty well. It allowed me to be more creative with the subject and be less rigid in regards to the structuring. I've noticed I have a tendency to make breaks in my poems with one word lines. I need to break away from that.
Awake
Running through the fields without a single thought to spare
The clouds are pointing weapons and I'm running out of air
I look beyond the cliff and set my ears on golden sea
I turn around and take a glance of what's become of me
I push real loud begin to sway and gently fall to sky
The angels all start laughing as I start to ponder why
I listen to their tears and it's a place I used to know
Where the supper never changes and the lightning never blows
I close my brain begin to sing when does it ever cease
I let go of my sanity as it finds it's new release
I fall to shiny pieces yet the puzzle never stays
But it's not done it's just begun says oyster from the maze
The rainbow must end somewhere and you'll find your pot of mold
But I say wait a decade for I like it in the cold
He says I see you don't remember it for nothing is as seems
You're in your bed you're in your head you're living in you're dream...
Amnesty period. I stole the syllable counts from Shinedown's interlude, "The Dream." I just reworded it to make it more surreal. Not sure if I accomplished it. This is one of my oldest poems. Definitely not my proudest work, but the last two lines are my favorite of anything I've ever written.
Alright, there you go. A little something for you to digest, while I still look for a new creative muse. ETA of said muse: unknown. I'm trying to get a short story started (alliteration, anyone?), but so far, no dice.
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