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LullabyCan you write me a lullaby to sing me to sleep?
I'll wait in blissful silence, not making a preep.
It'll start off slow and crescendo through the night,
And end after daybreak, as we watch the morning light.
We'll dance in our dreams, as the notes carry us along,
Merrily we'll lift our voices, drunk on another love song.
But when the morning comes the night ends,
And the parting of those dear old friends.
With every step your mind quakes,
And with every beat your heart aches.
And the melody starts coming on strong,
And you can't help to hum along.
Can you write me a lullaby?
So I'll remember you when we say goodbye.
Now wipe those tears from those dreary eyes,
And smile for me, as the sun begins to rise.
Words UnsaidSilent like a long goodbye,
Lonely like the darkest night,
Empty as the years gone by,
Drinking dreams till morning light.
These words ring inside my head,
Like church bells for the unsung.
And from my pen, these words bled
To find a grave on my tounge.
A note sits on my dresser,
Yellowed from the march of time.
Its lines are my confessor
To you-- it's my only crime.
EnigmaAs I peer through the darkness, you are the light
Like a fire that stretches towards the sky.
You're always out of reach, but in my sight
I'll never stop trying till the day I die.
You're something like an enigma my dear
One that someday I hope to solve.
And through eyes clouded, now clear
I begin anew, with strengthened resolve.
Snapshot Story: BetrayalThe burning light of the street lights pushes back the entrenched darkness that lay over the radiant beauty of the flower garden. A warm summer breeze blows, causing the flowers to dance. Two women walk through the well-worn path between two large rose bushes. The further they walk the more animated and tense their voices become.
“Damn it Amelia, you just don’t get it do you!” The shorter woman yells her face flush with anger. Her dark hair bobbing as she throws her head about. “What did you expect Emmy? Was I just supposed to let you go wild?!” Amelia yells back. “I’m not a child anymore, stop calling me ‘Emmy’,” Amelia lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Emily, you’re my kid sister, I got to…” “No, you don’t,” Emily yells tears welling up in her eyes. Off in the distance, a clap of thunder echoes.
The two women stand in silence, glaring at each other. “Come on let’s head back
The Swinging GirlAnother summer has come and gone, and a cold autumn wind blows across the silent, windswept field. In the field stands an old, weathered oak. The silent sentry grimaces as it is battered by the cold winds. Several of the leaves fall as the oak readies for a winter slumber. From the tangle of branches hangs an old wooden swing. A young girl sits in silence as she watches the crimson sun fade behind the distant mountains. In the distance, her mother watches from the kitchen of the small cottage that dots the landscape.
Beside the tree sits a tombstone; a small mound of fresh dirt lies beside it. The harsh winds die down as her mother calls out. “Come in dear, it’s time to go,” The girl slowly raises, her head hanging low. As she moves past the swing, it begins to move. Hearing the creaking branches, the girl turns back once, a single tear trickling down her cheek.
As she walks back, the sun gives a final wink before fading into twilight. A gentle breeze plays with the e
SoulsA film of sea salt clings to the window, like eyes who’ve cried for too long.
Dark clouds pirouette in the sky above,
They dance and twirl overhead, gracefully moving to the siren’s song.
Our vessel crashes over eddies, falling as God gives us a shove.
10,000 souls wait below, in the waters of the heartless sea,
Bones of the hungry, the lost and the dead.
The water rushes above the clouds, blue and grey is all to see,
Grasping air with wistful gazes, death is welcoming in her warm bed.
You can count the bubbles, one,
As the lights fade o
HandsI stare into my hand, clenched into a fist,
It’s shaking, from the fear and hate in my heart.
Coldly, I stand enveloped in the mist,
Created by a myriad of lies, of which I am a part.
I stare into my hand, open and outstretched,
It sits calmly, from the love and temperance in my heart.
Warmly, I stand under the sun, drenched,
In bliss, staring in awe of its cylindrical art.
I stare into my hand, its limp at my side,
It sits idle, from the fear and loneliness in my heart.
Empty, I stand in the forest, trying to hide,
In pity, trying to outrun the start.
I stare into my hand, dirty and bruised,
It’s battered, from all the lies in my heart.
Crying, I stand in the city, broken and used,
In the end, it seems that I wasn’t so smart.
WatchingIn this age of technology, things aren’t always what they seem. You can find out about anything you want with just the push of a button. Twitter, Facebook, Google Maps, Wikipedia… all of these sites are sending and collecting data. Each day, people expose themselves, and each day; a little more is lost.
Every day, trillions of bytes of data are accessed, but not always by us. They are known as the watchers. The watchers aren’t satellites or phishing protocols, they are living beings; but that is our only similarity. They sit in silence, watching the world through our eyes. As our technology grew, so did their “eyes”.
It first started with our satellites. This gave them their first blotted views. Much like an infants, their vision was blurred and spotty, nothing more than flashes in the dark. As time moved on, we gave them more “lenses” to focus through. Now… their vision far surpasses anything that we can hope to achieve.
At first, they
UnbeknownstA year in a day seems just to pass
By my world in a sorrowed “goodbye”
Leaving behind yet another one,
Echoed in the waves and pages.
You hold up your hands, and trace the lines,
Mapping the path of another’s soul.
And paint the stars into the night
Of someone else’s morning sky.
Now wipe those tears, please don’t cry
Your time has come,
let’s go play.
I’ll wake you up when the mornings gone
Just sit right there, and hold on tight.
I don’t know what I’m feeling...
But I like the way it tastes,
Like silken chocolate in a trash can
Beware Of The Bad BoySo he touches you in all of the right places
But with a clenched fist and not a gentle hand
By ‘right places’ I mean those easily hidden
By the latest expensive designer brand
Which he buys you to either keep your silence
Or to beg and to plead for your forgiveness
Is this where the attraction of a bad boy lies?
Please explain where is the excitement in this?
So he kisses you with a so-called passion
His hands round your neck steal a two letter word
It seems that he cannot feel satisfaction
Unless you show him signs that his dominance hurts
Which he tightens each time to keep your silence
Or maybe he just enjoys hearing you moan
Is this the deed of some stalker, some stranger?
No, this is your husband and this is your home
So he lays you out on the living room floor
I wonder what will fall down to the carpet first
The drops of blood from between your legs
Or the tears flowing between his regretful words
Which he whispers in your ear as you lay silent
It’s safe to say
The Villain (Bye Bye Mr. Nice Guy)I am desperately seeking someone to save me
Wondering where I have been going wrong
The more I allow myself to be walked over
The more I feel like it’s where I belong
Under the tread marks of your rubber soled shoe
My face has been driven in to the mud
You’ve laced my dignity with so much self doubt
What on earth have I gained from being good
I am desperately seeking something to save me
The next line to the poem of my life
Dissecting my past with clinical precision
Using a pen-shaped surgical knife
With a blade that seems to cut deeper and deeper
Each time that I am wounded or I am hurt
But maybe now is the time to put down my pen
And distribute my anger with more than words
I am desperately seeking something to save me
I feel I’m on the cusp of a rebirth
I will take centre stage and leave you in the wings
There is no more time left to rehearse
I have stiffened the sinews, I have summoned the blood
I face my fears and I’ve made a decision
I can be strong, I can
WordsIt’s when I get my thoughts to rhyme
That I can truly start to see
What has been swirling in my mind,
And then I get to set it free.
A turmoil of chaotic calls
Becomes a desperate, pleading choir
Of thousands of tangled words
Awaiting me to help them thrive.
They cry, and weep, and beg like kids,
Won’t let me drown myself in sleep
Until I give them what they need –
A string of rhythm and sense to grip.
I strive and strive to make them speak
And give them a melodic vibe.
Yet their presence is too weak,
I'm losing hope that they'll survive.
But after stumbling time and time
Again to let them slip away
I start to hear their chime.
I start to see them find a way.
So one by one and step by step
I see them coming up to me.
They join to spin a magic web –
My soul’s true epitome.
And that’s the place they shall remain,
In subtle, fearless accord.
I never thought that I could tame
Such mischievous, capricious words.
So now I’m pacing back and forth
DethronedDelicate fingertips were once against my cheek,
as were the smiles that you so affectionately cast towards me.
But then you tossed me into the gaping sea,
and I am no longer a beloved queen to thee.
Sweet Music MelodySweet Music Melody lend a mid-night dance to me
Oh what tender lips are these that lay sweet kisses on my cheeks
Making my bashful heart sing...sing...sing
Sweet Music Melody lend a mid-night song to me
Oh what beautiful notes your voice is to a lover's song
beckoning a drifting soul home sweet home
Sweet Music Melody never let your music end
Play your seductive heart's song again and again
Step by step, song by song, you and I are forever one
She Does Not Love YouDo not hear
Her glorious speech
Pretend to be deaf.
Elude her hair
Dancing in the air
Don’t think about
Those sunny eyes
Knowing your past
With just one look.
Avoid her laugh
A melody of harp
Played by angels.
She’s hurting you
Giving you false
When she reveals
All her evil plan
You will be broken
Thinking about suicide.
Bury the memories
With you by her side
Even if they are
The best times
Of your life.
Writer's ProblemsThis pen feels,
So right in my hand.
With the ability,
To do what only I can.
Ideas fly from my mind,
In a manner, distraught.
But they stick to my pen,
Writers with their problems,
Ideas with their wings.
But take your imagination,
And shoot down the damn things
Winds Of TimeThe cool winds of time change from day to day
Yesterday to soon turns into tomorrow
But today is never twice the same
And in heavenly stars I search, but I have yet to find my way
Still, as time continues to march on, my soul can find no resting place
In the mist of this violent quake
Of many dimensions of being I lies awake
Until the hours of dark meet a brilliant day break
leaving me to, once again ponder an uncertain fate
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