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Poetry Corner

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  • If Only...

    I stay up until the hours of breaking dawn
    Writing about who you are & how you look,
    Now, my mind is numb, the vision’s gone
    And my thoughts will probably never leave my book.

    I wish with my life that I could tell you
    What my heart is deafening me to say:
    That you are not the same girl
    That I had loved yesterday.

    If only you knew what you mean to me,
    If only you knew who you were.
    If only you knew who I want you to be,
    ‘Cause to me, you’re another girl…

    Maybe I haven’t much to offer,
    But I’m not sure if I should care.
    My pen won’t write anymore
    ‘Cause my mind won’t take me anywhere.
    My piano sits in the corner
    With its keys gathering dust
    For I have made some wrong decisions,
    When I chose LOVE over LUST…


    -arden, 1999

    Comment


    • A wandering nameless man, perhaps an Indian covered a seed with a little sand, and passed on regardless, on his journey to the dim past. He died and was forgotten, but the seed lay there still, and the mighty forces within it acting in the darkness. A tender seed stole gently up, and fed by the light and air and frequent dews, put forth its little leaves, and lived, because the elk or buffalo chanced not to place their foot upon and crush it. It was a miracle. The years marched onward like that of the ants in their daily work, and the seed became a sapling, and its green leaves went and came in spring and autumn, stood still winter and smiled in the summer. And years still came and passed away again, unceasing, the relentless tyranny of time. Columbus had the set its foot on the new world. And the sapling still grew, and the dews still fed its leaves, and the birds built their nests on its young limbs for generations. And the years rolled still, came and went, further passed. The Indian hunter slept while spying on the white man. Puritans sought a resting place across an ocean. A puritan family settled by the sapling. War of Independence came and Constitutional Convention held. And lo! The sapling had become a tree, and it grew still, thrusting its arms further, and lifting its head still higher toward the heavens, strong-rooted and defiant of the storms that rumbled and tumbled and roared through its branches, defiant of the wars that man launches. Europeans were settling the new world. Yet the great Oak stood still, domineering over the rest of the forest, vigorous, heedless of all the centuries that had hurried past since the wild Indian planted the little seed in the forest. A tree, standing tall and mighty, providing a lot of shade around the ground, and fit to furnish timbers for a ship, to carry the thunders of the guns of and Republics that were forming out of revolutions around the world. The tree lived, survived, shed its leaves and grew again. And sprung its leaves even further still. Yet skyscrapers were built, and cars rolled by, and the tree stood there immortal. And yet, if one had sat and watched it at every instant nanosecond, from the moment the tiny little seed pushed its way into the light, and until the eagles built among its branches, one would never have seen the tree or sapling grow.

      Achkerov kute.

      Comment


      • Originally posted by Anonymouse
        A wandering nameless man, perhaps an Indian covered a seed...
        Word rapture
        Emotions capture
        Transmit neurons to the brain

        There is a little environmentalist poet glancing through I see.

        Comment


        • ive said the stupidest, cheesiest things when i was 16.... lol

          I want you.
          I want to see you.
          I want to touch you.
          I want to feel you.
          I want to have you & hold you.
          I want to hug & kiss you.
          I want to be with you forever…

          I want to spend eternity
          Watching you sleep,
          Drying your cheeks
          When you weep,
          Staring into your eyes,
          Into the endless deep,
          Giving away my heart
          For only you to keep.

          I want to be the one
          To bring you flowers,
          To talk with you for hours,
          To dance with you to a song of silence
          And then call it ours.

          I want to pick roses for you.
          I want to draw portraits of you.
          I want to have a picture of you on my piano
          And compose love songs for you.
          I want to spend my days
          Writing love poems for you.
          I want to dream of you at night
          And when I awake,
          I want the first thing I see to be you.

          I want to imagine with you.
          I want to enjoy the miracle of life with you,
          Admire the beauty of art with you.
          I want to melt an ice sculpture,
          Call it art
          And rename it after you.

          I want to treat you
          Like the princess that you are,
          Like the angel that you are.
          I want to spend my every idle moment
          Serenading you with my guitar.

          I want to show you love,
          I want to be your man.
          I want to walk the world
          While I’m holding your hand.

          I want to sing you a song.
          I want you to sing along.
          I want the lyric to be strong,
          But the harmonies, all wrong.
          I want to teach you the melody
          And I want you to sing it with me.
          And if ever you were to sing off-key,
          I want to assure you that it’s only me.

          I want to share my love with you
          And forget my pain with you.
          I want to go insane with you.
          I want to run naked in the rain with you.
          I want to fly away to Spain with you,
          Dance the Flamenco with you,
          Fight bulls & win… for you.

          Ever since I last saw you,
          I’ve been spellbound.
          I want to give my life
          Never to see you frown.
          When we’ll be together,
          I want our sorrows to be drowned.
          I want to love you so much
          That I would cry when you’re not around.

          I want you to see
          What you mean to me.
          How I adore you,
          It’s almost blasphemy!
          You are my fantasy,
          You are my ecstasy,
          You are my destiny
          And I want you
          To be everything to me…


          -arden, 1999

          Comment


          • You wanted a lot of things....

            Comment


            • I wish I was a neutron bomb, for once I could go off . . .

              Comment


              • Originally posted by spiral
                You wanted a lot of things....
                The most beautiful poem EVAR!
                Achkerov kute.

                Comment


                • boy was i wrong about that one... lol i should've ran away!

                  Comment


                  • Originally posted by spiral
                    You wanted a lot of things....
                    yea i did... lol i told u it was gonna be cheesy!
                    i dont want so many things anymore.. just to be happy & im doing alright with that at the moment

                    Comment


                    • What a nice poem arden. And whaaaaaaaaat a girl she must have been!

                      Comment

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