A Short IntroductionPoetry has at the very least, taken a smidget of my life, and smeared it on ink and paper. I dont know how many poems I've actually written, some of them i've lost here and there, but i do remember that i wrote quite a lot. Now, i'd generally wouldnt be able to show my intentions except through literature, seriously. I'd like to see someone try to force me fork out a secret thats not written on paper. I find solace in the act of using paper to convey my feelings because i simply have no other way to do such.A Short Introduction
Continuing... Poems i have put up, for the benefit of the doubt, are written in periods of time less than 5 or
Witch's BrewWitch’s Brew By Rollence ChiusincoWitch's Brew
Owl’s eyes, Hint of roses, Nature’s sigh, Dandelion’s kisses.
Flowering plants, Deer’s grace, Moon’s gloats, Sunflower face.
Raven’s feather Pride of lion, Stormy weather, Fury of dragon.
Mockingbird’s song, Whale’s moan Eagle’s young, Vigor of roan.
White unicorn, Sheep’s wool, Rhino’s horn, Hardworking mule.
Cauldron’s warm, Splatters, gleams, Its about to form, The girl of my dreams.
Language of the StarsI pick up my pen,Language of the Stars
To write a story, a poem, But alas, the words do not come, They are meaningless,
Fleeting thoughts in my mind. So I sit back and close my eyes, Ears closed to the world. I lock the mind’s door, And enter the maze of my thoughts. A single tear drops from her eyes. A single tear drop opens a world of thought The universe of a thousand words come, But still, she heeds not. For she is in her own world, Locked within your minds, A prison made of thought. Heed not, her words, You call them lies, And so, she stays, In
Letter to the All-Nighter GirlFarewell, farewell, dear maiden of night, Whose toils endure until first light.Letter to the All-Nighter Girl
Never shall you to sit and be lonely, For I, thorugh dreams, bring your company.
Through books and projects I shall remain, The invisible shoulder through tears and pain.
Remember, dear lady, ownder of dark, Ghostly presence linger and hark.
As witching hour arrives and passes, And morning from its slumber rises.
And sandman’s tools have fallen from your eyes, But myself begone before the light of the skies.
Teacups and Trinkets
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Bad girls understand that there is no point in being good and suffering in silence. What good has good ever done? We women still only make seventy-one cents, on average, for every man's dollar.
BITCH, by Elizabeth Wurtzel
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Bad girls understand that there is no point in being good and suffering in silence. What good has good ever done? We women still only make seventy-one cents, on average, for every man's dollar.
BITCH, by Elizabeth Wurtzel
can i show u a good poetry dA user shes a friend of mine
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"keep your head cool, your ass, hot." --vibrator company
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