TwistandShout
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The autumn rush of leaves in November sends chills down my spine
The filtered sunlight drips through leaves, leaving shadows to mask my tears.
I am back in school
I inhale William Blake
I love the sharp pain
And the loud bang
Of a laced leather glove
Driving through your brain
Many call it " the salvage science"
I call it organized violence.
The first time I met you, you were going on and on about potato salad
my complexion pallid, nose wrinkled, you didn't notice how much I hate potato salad
you shoved it into your mouth claiming you could eat buckets, gallons,
When you see me, Am I invisible?What am I?
You conversate to me like you know me.But do you know?
High school?
I thought it would be cool.
Whatever.
That fallacy got severed. Along with expected measures, and weathered effort.
Little things are my happiness and joy. Like the way a pencil dances across a blank piece of parchment, the way a large group of people can harmonize with each other. Even something as little as earning the A-B honor roll.
Feeling the fall breezes go through my body and swirl in my hair are things that swell my heart on a cold autumn day. Getting together with family and friends are what makes the season worth living through.
One month
Four weeks
Twenty eight days.
A lifetime in a moment, two heartbeats in a second.
First week of the semester you were there
Skating in and out of my vision.
I noticed, but didn't pause
My beautiful little girl,
From the moment I knew you were,
I couldn’t think straight anymore.
To know that my soul had found
The tik-tok of the clock
The whistling and hissing of the winter air
Roaring and screaming that suddenly stops
Long enough for a heart to beat once
The resounding gong of the clock that struck twelve
What Keeps me lifted in this oppressed prison?
When I stand by my lonely
All my friends they just pretend
No surprise to me
At the end they turn phony
Cannot allow that have me feel abhor
Camera lights flashing,
hundreds of people clapping.
I did it;
WE did it.
The smiles,
the laughs.
The friendships that will always last.
How did I get so lucky?
Stepping onto that mat;
While they are perched on their wall,
Perfect in symmectrical proportions,
From there loft shadows fall,
Flakes of dust-born distortions.
Perfect in symmectrical proportions,
I love it.
The endless conversation
The pointless laughter
The sun shining
On my beet red cheeks,
I love it.
The tears of joy
The moments of pure bliss
The days I wasn’t able to sleep,
Why live solely by the bible,
When it fills you full of hate.
You'll only destroy,
No ability to create.
Endless sleepless nights,
Questioning beliefs,
But you have to keep your head down,
A new life
Potential with no seeming end
A new beginning, no sign of strife
But to begin, however, is also to end
A military child
Moving from state to state
I own my daysWeekdays? I got this. I succeed.But it's on Saturday and Sunday that I feedMy soul.I do what makes me happy.I live my life the right way, but my wayWhen I do chores, it's still play
Makoura is me,
I am Makoura
I live in an oval
Full of eight lanes
With one big heart
Many people wish to live here
But not many are willing
To make the sacrifice
and work it takes,
As I look in the eyes of those passing by me,
I can't help but see the sorrow.
The helplessness these kids must feel.
If only they knew who to turn to.
While I'm weeping,
I will worship.
The soul rings and shakes in joy everytime,
Intitates the keys that plays on the organ,
Not noise, but sounds of praise,
Great is the grace you have given this life that is not my own,
Flashes, lenses, and screens
They make me scream
Of happiness of course
Cameras, cameras, and more
Never make me bored
Portrait, landscapes, and nature
Are calling my name
I'll catch you later
The best feelings in the world are simple.
a bubble bath.
cuddles with a puppy.
a hug from a missed sibling.
All the poems I see these days are competitions
For whoever has experienced the worst pain
Whoever has the most scars on their wrist wins
It's like all happiness you feel is just in vein
I was on a train headed back to my college after visiting home for the weekend.
I took advantage of the ten-and-a-half hour ride to write an essay for World Literature.
English is my intended major
Has anyone ever looked in the mirror and said:
“I feel courageous today”
Chances are you haven’t, but that’s totally okay
Now is when I challenge you to do just that
What is Happiness?
Happiness is waking up in the morning just to see the sun rise.
Happiness is the smell of roasting coffee and warm pancakes.
First day of school,
reuniting with old friends.
That's what makes me twist and shout.
I sit in my classrooms alone and quiet,
I have a lot to say but I just to hide it.
Some say I'm shy, quiet, and nice,
Others say I'm weird, loud, and I need advice.
I say, they all need to think twice.
All I want is my sleep and nothing moreSleeping takes me to another worldSometimes real life is a bore
It’s about the season,
The colorful leaves,
like I always dream,
It makes me smile for no reason.
The crisp outdoor air,
Cut pumpkins everywhere,
Cider being warmed,
Poetry makes me happy,
it fills me with glee.
Some poems are crappie,
like one, two, three.
Some like to rhyme,
Some make me cry.
Some take many time,
Others are quite dry.
With every half note
And measure of rest
Comes a short piece
Played at its best
Whether its a solo
Or ensemble of a kind
Playing as one sound
Is not always easy to find
Bright blue eyes
Clear skies
Light rain
Life gains
Small hands
Green lands
Tall trees
Livid keys
First laugh
Fresh path
Fallen leaves
He sees
I awaited in the darkness. The branch above nestled me with its shade, and thereafter swallowed me into its pitch black embrace. The only thing that saved me . . . was her.
How will I tell you? How will I say, what has turned my world from grey? What words do I use? What play? How will I convey? Portray, display, relay?
the Stars make me happy.
the Way they’ve lived an eternity
evolving, but not changing.
Magnificant form of
Art, not to be
Knocked on.
Exciting beauty in
Unthinkable hues.
Paramount in my interestes.
This is my happy place, where no one else can intrude,
This is my happy place, where characters are all of my own making
Man, woman, child, teen, mermaid, dragon, toaster
It doesn't matter here, because they're all mine
Of all the great freedoms I've been vlessed with in my life, I feel the greatest one is my art. To see something and recreate it or to manipulate things to my own. I can change the color, the size, the shape, the meanings!
Bright and early mornings
late and studious nights
laughing with my family
keeping the love and joy
admiring each others presence
Wishful thinking,beauiful dreams
Happy
What Is It?
They say Its money
They say Its not money
What is Happy?
They say Its family
They say its marriage
What is Happy?
Is it light?
Is it dark?
