Learn more about other poetry terms
A longing. A craving. A dream. To run away. To go back where I came from. To go home.
Dear little one it will be okay Inhale, rest, and be still Just take life day-by-day Don’t think about life in black, white, and grey
You go every morning Your warmth leaves my bedside Our hands part each morning But I know you love me. You come home late For you, I'll wait awake No matter what it may be
Warm kisses The kind that make my face flush In the dim light of evening During the brisk of Autumn Soft touches
Once upon a time There sat a dock in Naples Here was a girl born a guy And she rested on the maple The year is twenty-seventeen The time of day is dusk Beneath the water lays a gleam
The "land of the free" made a slave out of me My people chained body and mind While they "progress" we get left behind We try to find our nitch, but are too dark for them to make room
Blue sea, blue skyEagles, flying highA nation so greatI could not wait For its influence is so greatYou may askWhy I have no hateI will stand proud and sayBecause I live in the USA
in my america, i’ve found that there’s a darkness in it. it’s grown darker these past few months; it’s breaking apart at the seams
Hatred Anger "I'm giving up." Reflection. Expansion. "I'll be better."
My year in a poem, a few sentences, a few stanzas, seemed, seems impossible but nothing is impossible. So here I go, here it is. It all started with who I could be,
Will you return to me, Boomerang I throw Away from me in anticipation. Of your quick return I have yet to know, But it shall to the unfortunate one. Facing the dark forest of no return,
My life is traveling to the predictable destination of debt and disappointment. Trying to go to college with no money to pay for it, getting email after forsaken email about
Am I the same? No, of course not. I've changed and battled Become much better. I've faced my share of struggles my demons and my fears. But I come out even stronger emerging from my tears.
Living on this Earth I realized life can be tough, I try my best to overcome obstacles, but sometimes my "best" isn't enough. I try to remain positive and tell myself I'll prevail,
On this island I am stranded, with nothing but my thoughts Knowing back home, my love misses me a lot So I wait and I wait and I wait some more So I decide to open the book, and then await for help
Give me a pen to flourish and nourish To allow my mind to grow and explode For words to escape my mind's gate I want to know Will you give me a pen?
What I require is What most people desire Not power or absolute control But hope That is all I need
Oh, my trusty knife, How you are helpful to me. Keeping me alive for life, Helping me with life. Oh, my trusty knife! You help me make things, You help me keep me protected.
Its like my mind fell off a plane into needle tips
Staring into my reflection is a daunting one I see a girl with too much mascara, that she liberally applied to impress people who couldn’t care less I see a girl with a broken smile
Many people love math and to that I ask why. We learn about math and try not to cry. We hear about math and try not to sleep. However math has roots that grow deep. It starts with Newton, oh what a guy
Though not a poem in its natural vein,I expect my dream job not to be in vain.Something where I can be myselfBut probably also build a few shelves.Yes my dream job lies in architecture
You walk in the door and start yelling at me The accident wasn't my fault, I had to pee I look at you with love in my eyes And wonder what I did wrong this time You see you left me all alone
Listening to your Whopper of a lessonCopying notes from the King
Why I write. I write because I feel the words in my blood Twisting and turning underneath my skin, begging to be let out onto paper To tell a story, to express a feeling, to let go of my grief or defuse my anger.
If I did love If I did love it would be so glorious so clumsy on a spring afternoon as Shakespeare or Keats as a ungraceful trip caught merely by chance
Sometimes I wonder What happened On June nineteeth, 'ninety-five - The day before my birth. Before I opened my eyes Before I took my first breath of fresh air Before I touched the world with tiny fingers