Learn more about other poetry terms
Keep your ears open, listen to your first mind. 9 times out of 10 you'll be right everytime. There's no purpose in starting a fight about what's wrong or right. Like always, the truth will always find it's way to the light.
With a big smile on the face,carryng their little wrapped box in their head they approach you. Before you have time to reveal yourself they desire to zap your power and pull out the little box
You push me to follow what you believe in When you ask me for my own views I am scorned if I answer truthfully. Because when you asked me about my views it was not for your curiosity,
Small words taught me to sympathize with strangers and their inner tides.
I will never leave you, and I will always listen. But because I love you, I cannot always help. For I am only human, just as you are only human. We make mistakes. We fall, we cry, we mess up.
Listen. You are the one I'm focused on. You are the one whom I'm giving all of me to. Because I love you, what you say is riveting, so just keep talking on and I'll keep on listening. Listen.
tell me about what you love tell me about your dreams tell me about what makes you giddy let me see your eyes light up
Eyes Eyes that show us the world we live in Eyes that give vivid pictures in our minds Eyes that let us see the wonder Eyes that make up our own experiences
Sometimes we hear things people say, Jumping to conclusions without any way For either of us to clarify or explain, We just assume what we heard was meant to cause pain.
The silence surrounds, Tick tock, Tick tock, I hear the delicate hands move, Much like my own, They drift in movement, My breathing grows light, I listen for silence, A floorboard creaks,
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.
Outlandish tasks Scribbled passionately One: To meet the infamous Ms. Oprah Winfrey. As a puppy waits for Owner to return,
My name is the syncopated beat Of a dotted eighth note, sixteenth note Rocking like a boat on windy waters My laugh is the swoop of glissando Sometimes a delicate slide
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?
A young woman named Alicia Lives, learns, listens, and loves Intends to impact others for the better, but how Could she make a difference?
God do you hear me when I cry? Do you feel my pain? You allowed your son to be slain. He probably felt my pain dragging that cross through a hot desert Hurt and feeling forsake Somedays I can imagine that.
Katria Farmer “Could I have a moment, please?” I asked pulling up to the drive-thru window. “What’d you say ma’am? I can’t hear you. Your voice is pretty low.”
No one truly asks,
When I'm upset, I conceal I wish this wasn't real Wither away, let nobody know how you feel So love sick I may be It hurts to feel, as you can see I still have hope
She sits and remembers all that has past The things that were said and every laugh She thinks about how she heard what they were saying But then she thinks about how she listened to her heart without betraying
There is no great science to living you can do, say or be anything you like People are always going to have something to say so why bother listening? Why bother listening?
Just listen And listen to me good. Hang on to every word I’m about to say. Because I really mean it. Don’t take it as a joke But really understand what I feel.
Tomato cheeks, Sparking hair, disarrayed cloth, empty chair, young cold, filing lines, full chair, similar voice, no face, one blue sky, pairs of shoes,
The darkest room.The dearest soul.Finds comfort in its blackest holdThe world turned hard.The broken heart.Finds refuge in the silent darkThe lost and lonely.Lightless and faint.
He smiled and laughed from time to time. He seemed fine but pain ate him up inside. He was so quiet but his blue eyes were loud, pleading. But no one ever listened. He was someone’s student.
I used to talk a lot, I don't talk too much now. Because everyone else is talking,
I write because, the pen is the only thing that understand me. And the paper; the only thing that listens. I write because of hard times, because of bad times.
I’ll walk through the forestTo be with the treesThey’ll sway with the windTelling a storyBut you won’t be able to hear itUnless you are quietSo I’ll sit on a rockAnd listen to the trees
What is your story? Sad or happy, I don't care, As it is, no lies.
If the world is listening, Let them hear this; My life is not perfect, My life is not bliss. I'm happy almost never. The sadness always stays. I'm always the one who's wrong. I'm always the one who's to blame.