Learn more about other poetry terms

Walk through the dim light of the moon, there you'll see roses full in their bloom
Lazy days and dogs that won't stir, I hope you're happy I hope that you're Sincerly relaxed and seriously invested In the ethical victories over those you've bested.  
My Father survived the war of Laos,He was just a young boy then.He talks about his early life,Using a slingshot to take out game and mice.He would tell stories of when the soldiers arrived,And how afraid he was
Do they hide in shadows of the alleys? Of course not silly they tell the tales that some will never hear! They are the ones that can read your heart like an open book my dear! Haha!
 A failure at life, I yearn for the knife. Inflicting pain on purpose. No one can make me surface. Desire to bleed. My insanity needs to feed. Not a soul knows of this, they all just seem to miss. To cry a sea of tears where there are no family or
what is my history? is my history my past or is it my future? i make my future, but is my past worth it? history is not about whats all ready in your past, but what you do in the future and how you make history?
In theory I never knew the weight of the hoodie. Contrast in its color as it grapes over my skin. Indeed I was mightier with the cape over my lens. Strolling pastimes, my ears were shuttled by noise.
The past, the future; bitter- sweet and no story any truer One time, one chance; to take what is there a little further Counting the time passing by as the dust falls together
Mysteries dash across his face from the flickering flames, Telling me of conceived lies and untold treacheries. Staring aimlessly his storm blue eyes invite me in his mischief.
“March 26th” March 26th Is a day of birth. A new poet is given to the Earth. At the edge of dawn,
Innocence were their names   In a child's place they were to be Wrong place, wrong time Some would say to thee...   It was just another day Another day riddled with injustice, segregation
#177 Purple                                Feb. 8, 2013
Like flowers growing in the winter, you want to know my secret.  A rose growing from concret, I'm unique. An incomplete puzzle, I'm the piece you need.  A book with no pages, what is my story.