Melody, Poetry by Alex Pauley

Genre: Relationship, Romance

 

Melody by Alex Pauley

 

The melody my heart plays is a ragged tune that is not easy on the ears, as it holds all the broken pieces of me with it.
The memories of past mistakes, the pain of love loss, the regret that stays with me until my eyes close at night,
this is the melody that my crying heart wishes to play, as if it’s a call for help.
It wishes to be touched and to be restrung once again, as if it had never been broken at all;
It seeks to be heard and in turn be told great things, it craves tenderness and devotion that it has never known,
my heart plays a sad song, a song of regret, a song of sorrow, a song of depression, a song of joy, a song of sweet memories.
it cannot help, but to play what it feels, all it can do is express those feelings that are pent up within,
the melody may be off and hard to listen to, but it is one that is ever playing, whether ignored or unheard.
It shall continue playing that sharp off-key tune, until it receives the care it needs.

 

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Play House. Poetry by John “John Kind” Ravenell Jr.

We think we’re grown don’t we?
Holding hands in public because that’s what lovers do,
We think we know how to love,
But inexperience got us not having a single clue,
To be simply put, we are making a poor attempt at being witty,
Trying to pass off what we have as love, yet too naive to know it’s shitty,

Genre: Romantic Irony

Play House
by John “John Kind” Ravenell Jr.

We think we’re grown don’t we?
Holding hands in public because that’s what lovers do,
We think we know how to love,
But inexperience got us not having a single clue,
To be simply put, we are making a poor attempt at being witty,
Trying to pass off what we have as love, yet too naive to know it’s shitty,

We take relationship advice from what we all call, “other wise”,
You better love me as I say, “other wise” I’m gonna-
Then we spit argue over marble counter tops, trying to buff things out,
No way to try to make it look nice, fights never bring our best side out,
To be simply put, I’m the daddy and she’s the mommy,
We are, who we are, because the roles gives us an organized lifestyle,

All I know is, I just got off from work and mommy you better kiss me,
How was our son? I’m hungry too, what did you get me?
Ah yes, my favorite dish your the best!
And you look especially beautiful for me, and only me, in that sun dress,
And my dearest thinks handsome, she adores me as her hard working man,
To take care of her and secure her is my obligation to her 20 year living plan,

To be simply put, our lives are designed by an idea our parents act out,
We would like to childishly fulfill those roles, but with a plastic door to back out,
Just in case if things take a different pace, becomes too real and less exciting,
But the appeal of love on the internet and reality tv is too inviting,

Who doesn’t play house?

 

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FACTORY OF DREAMS, Poetry by Katarina Jovcevska

You are my motivation

Simply,crazy inspiration

When I am in love

I hear the music in my heart

Every time.

Genre: Romance, Relationship, Love

 

 FACTORY OF DREAMS
by  Katarina Jovcevska

 

 

You are   my  motivation

Simply,crazy  inspiration

When I am in love

I hear  the music in my  heart

Every time.

 

You  are the reason to write

When  I think of you  day and night

I can do  a miracle

If just  one word

To adore and explore

I feel  that I soar

So highly  above this  horizon

You are so magical

And  Love  is so beautiful.

 

I imagine your  face

I am touching your grace

Let your kiss  comes to my lips immediately

Be my wonderful peace

Through the whole galaxy

Let catch you  my poetry

When your name I  am whispering

Let me be the happiest being

Which you have never seen

In  my factory of dreams.

 

 

 

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To my future significant other, Poem by Morgan Fasanelli

if we ever actually end up finding each other

i hope that, whoever you are – you love me as much as i hope i love you

and i hope that you hate snow, but you’ll appreciate that i love it

you’ll let me shovel alone because you know i don’t mind being alone

you’ll just have coffee ready for me when i come inside

Genre: sad, romantic, hopeful, love

To my future significant other by Morgan Fasanelli

if we ever actually end up finding each other

i hope that, whoever you are – you love me as much as i hope i love you

and i hope that you hate snow, but you’ll appreciate that i love it

you’ll let me shovel alone because you know i don’t mind being alone

you’ll just have coffee ready for me when i come inside

and i hope you know that when i get sad, which i will, it probably won’t be you

and i hope you’ll let me spew out my dramatic thoughts and feelings and i hope you’ll be okay with the fact that i don’t need you to tell me it’s okay, i just need you to let me tell you what’s on my mind

I hope that you have these idiosyncrasies about yourself because let me tell you, i notice everything

and i will notice if you pull the cuffs of your sleeves when you’re uncomfortable because it’s a natural reflex from grade school when someone would say something about what used to be a touchy subject for you, even though the scars are almost fully faded

And i hope that you’ll understand that i’m sorry for everything all the time, and that i’m really trying not to be

And i hope that you have lots of little stories that you remember from your past that you’re comfortable sharing with me

but most of all i hope you don’t fit every detail i just said

because that is to say that i saw you coming, and i saw us coming

and i don’t want to see this coming

i want to be so completely blindsided by your love that it knocks the air right out of my lungs

and i hope that, whoever you are – you love me as much as i hope i love you

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The night we fell in love, Poetry by Lari G

When our eyes met the first time,

I knew it was a sign,

And when we talked for the first time,

I knew what was next in line

Genre: Love, Romance

The night we fell in love by Lari G

When our eyes met the first time,

I knew it was a sign,

And when we talked for the first time,

I knew what was next in line

 

We dance one night,

Your left hand holding my right

Together, we sway slowly

But our hearts are beating rapidly

 

And even when the music has stopped

And everybody wants to take a nap

We keep on dancing that night

That night, where everything felt right

 

The moon is shining brighter

The wind is blowing harder

And even if the stars are teasing

We just want to keep it going

 

That night, the night you came,

My world had never been the same,

‘Cause that’s when we knew that we are bound to be together

And we both hope and pray that it will last forever

 

We dance one night

Your left hand holding my right

And we kept on swaying that night

The night we fell in love.

 

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MESS, Poetry by Damilola K Fashola

I just want to run naked through your mind. Swim through your hair before sliding down your temple and finding a bench within your earlobe. Give me the nod and backwards I will fall into you. I will fall into you. Gooey Ozzy Messy you. Dirt first. Grit first. Torment first. In your vile mediterranean I will lay and get to know you.

Genre: Love, Relationship, Romance

MESS by Damilola K Fashola

I just want to run naked through your mind. Swim through your hair before sliding down your temple and finding a bench within your earlobe. Give me the nod and backwards I will fall into you. I will fall into you. Gooey Ozzy Messy you. Dirt first. Grit first. Torment first. In your vile mediterranean I will lay and get to know you. What they all ran away from I will make love to and we will fight our demons together… Lie to me. Lie with me. Lie in my arms. Let us become liars who lie together. Your a mess and I love it. I’m a mess to. Can we be friends? Can we be more than friends? Nah I’ll probably mess it up and we’d become a big mess like one of the pieces of my life lying on the floor you just walked over. I’m tryna tell you something. I’m tryna tell you something deeper than me. And already you’ve hurt my feelings and I’m here taking it more personal than I should. I’m becoming emotional. I’m being emotional. Sorry I get that way at times. Thats just the peak of my flaws and no its not because I have a vagina but I’m human just like you and though you’re taught not to be expressive about it… I no you feel. I know it hurts sometimes and you have no one to call on and sometimes you try to call out but your voice is lost under sniggers and suppressed thoughts of not being allowed to. Your allowed to. Around me you’re allowed to be you. Flaws and all. I promise not to use them against you. Though I’m blunter than your average. So I might… without knowing so and for that, I ask you to forgive me now. If we’re ever gonna work that is. Do you want us to work. Maybe we shouldn’t.. Your a mess, I’m a mess. two messes…

Can we make love happen?

Poetry by Fernanda Wilt

There it is, lurking, the past

Comes smooth, quietly

And dump over them, as a wave

The damned nostalgia

Streets that run in parallel

But never find exit

Genre: love, life, romance, sad, nostalgia, and hope

Poetry by Fernanda Wilt

There it is, lurking, the past

Comes smooth, quietly

And dump over them, as a wave

The damned nostalgia

Streets that run in parallel

But never find exit

In the present what are they waiting for?

The world to go around

And to overturn your ways

So your patches will meet again

Spin world, the pivot, as it says a song

Spin, faster, hurry up

Pass the time, torment

And put them again in the right patch

In the past, wasted, nothing was build

And in the future, dreamed, is where they look for haven

There it is, gloomy, the past

Remembering the delayed present

Delaying the wanted future

 

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CinDER, Poetry by Sheen Francis Reyes

And then you implode
Your toes curl
You bury your face in the pillow
Whispering I miss you
And his name over and over

Genre: Love, Romantic, Relationship

CinDER by Sheen Francis Reyes

https://sheenfrancisreyes.wordpress.com/2015/09/22/cinder/

And then you implode
Your toes curl
You bury your face in the pillow
Whispering I miss you
And his name over and over
Until your voice whimper
Your eyes fill up with tears
For the painful void in your chest reminds you
He’s not with you
You and your own skin are alone
All you have are the images inside your head
And the cinder he left you with
Which every cell in your body craves to burn

 

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Is It Love?, Poetry by Fatima Begum

Am I in love? Or am I in love with love?

Is such a question necessary, when someone is in love? When it is me, I, myself, that is in love? The writer? Or would one call me a poet?

Unless, poetry demands me to fall in love, just so that I can write about love?
But, wait, dear sir, dear madam, what is love?

Genre: Philosophical and Romance

Is It Love? by Fatima Begum

Am I in love? Or am I in love with love?

Is such a question necessary, when someone is in love? When it is me, I, myself, that is in love? The writer? Or would one call me a poet?

Unless, poetry demands me to fall in love, just so that I can write about love?
But, wait, dear sir, dear madam, what is love?

A feeling? A tingly sensation? Happiness, followed by lack of sleep?
Waiting for him to arrive? To hear his voice, for his call? For his sweet touch, his finger to slide across your bare shoulders? For his eyes, that gaze, which holds such intensity? His smiles? Smiles reserved for only your eyes?

Or is it all a weakness? One word, and every limb in your body is alert. One touch, and your body shivers with excitement. Or, is it from fear? One look, and you feel your knees buckle. You’re just slightly dizzy, your excuse to others. Slightly flustered, you mumble whilst fanning yourself with your hand. But the smile. One smile, and your heart pounds against your ribs. Surely your ribs will explode? You can’t stop questioning. Can you? Is this just an excuse?

Truly, what is love?

Defeat? Who truly has control of your emotions? Is it not him? A word from him can make you smile. Yet, a word from him, can make you shed a tear. A word from him can make you hold your stomach with laughter. Yet, a word from him, can make you rage with anger. But, it is you who control your emotions, right?

Manipulation? He knows how you feel. He knows how you feel about him. But do you, yourself, know how you feel? How you feel about him? He asks you to commit a task. For him only, he states clearly. Your love permits it, he adds. Such smooth silky voice. You are against it. Truth be told, morals dictate that you must not carry out such a task. But it is love. Is love not worth it? Should one not do something, anything, everything for love? It has clouded your judgement. Although, is that not what love is?

But, then, you open your eyes. Are you in love? Were you in love? And, who was he that convinced you of love? A stranger you perhaps bumped into? A brief acquaintance from the past, an acquaintance who decided to taunt you in your dreams after years of complete silence.

No. You’ve never experienced it, so how can you know what love is? If you do not know what love is, how do you know if it is love?

So, am I in love, if I have no idea what love is? Or, am I another hopeless case, who has fallen in love with love itself. Do I want to fall in love and have him swipe me off my feet? Or do I want to fight it, so that only I, myself, can hold onto and control my emotions?

I’ve heard that one’s emotion is a powerful tool. So who should stay in power? Me or him? Or me and him?

By Fatima Begum

I ask again, is it love, for I do not know what love is?

 

 

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Stranger In Love…., Poetry by Poetess Chantelle Cherie

Late night on the I can’t sleep train… It just keeps going Nowhere Fast and Time Is not of essence unfortunately. The only thing I can think is Write a Write of Feeling that stows upon me this evening. And so with Her Magical Pen and this in heart she began ~

Genre: Love, Romance, Loneliness

Stranger In Love….

Late night on the I can’t sleep train…  It just keeps going Nowhere Fast and Time Is not of essence unfortunately. The only thing I can think is Write a Write of Feeling that stows upon me this evening. And so with Her Magical Pen and this in heart she began ~

Stranger things have Happened I must Say. It must lead to something greater than the unknown I pray it leads me straight to You and You to Me anticipation it has killed me before I feel it’s different this time though….. Beautiful?! One might ask: My Reply is only this to you, Beyond Beautiful He is  indeed but of this you would only know if my eyes were yours for a moment in this time to see just as I see He. Stranger things as said have happened indeed. Scared? Yes!!!! Terrified if I must add, Not of One Another But of Each Self and what we both harbor. “What If” we just gave up He on I and I on He “What if” I don’t want that to be Our Goodbye; We Just Began this journey him and I  “What if” Is not in Our Stars so why  are we Fighting A War Within  knowing The outcome of Our own self Battle Neither one of us has yet to win. I give you this very day the key to my domain my Sacred Place Very few have ever been allowed in please remember they don’t make duplicates be cautious yet gentle what your holding Is beyond repair if ever broken or filled with despair. One last thing I must write on the lines of your Soul, so if ever apart you may hear them whisper upon every beat of your heart: Not by Accident……Coincidence Agreed! Only Angels hear the tears of pain we cry the ones that fall from our eyes and flood our souls beyond our control… Perhaps we pained simultaneously that day for we may never know how our story was told only how it’s supposed to read: You ~ Me ~ Our beautiful destiny.

Copyrighted 2016

Written by: Poetess Chantelle Cherie
Keep Calm
Write On

 

 

 

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