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 Jan 2015 Damaré M
NaNa
Why?
 Jan 2015 Damaré M
NaNa
Shoot a man in his limbs,
he won't die easily.
Shoot the man in the head,
he shall die obediently.
I'll sing of all the ways I miss you
and how this sorrow came to be
the verses, lies I should have whispered
the chorus, truths in harmony.

The melody will break the silence
and call your broken heart to me
to be repaired by love unyielding
to broken hymns in minor key.
Depression lies and makes us push those we love most away, sometimes so far away that they can never return.
 Jan 2015 Damaré M
Megan Grace
i can only love in splinters,
in tsunamis.
i'm having trouble with today.
A girl once wandered along a field of flowers, feet bare
Carefree and unafraid of what she might encounter there

She knew the thorns she removed from her staunch heart
were the launching point, from the point of depart

With the promises that come with the freedom of wings
that portend magical Hope and other beautiful things.

She stopped in the midst of flowers abounding
held out her arms to soak in the sun’s rays astounding

Her head raised high, her eyes serenely closed
no more tranquil an image could have been posed.



Soon thereafter, a feather from the heavens fell
suddenly appearing, as if cast from a spell

It gently danced and glided, sought out her hand
as if searching for a place to land

A feather of the most vibrant hues
like the flowers; reds, yellows, greens and blues.

No sooner had the feather ended its flight
there followed a most ethereal sight .

It was the most exquisite bird,
and suddenly,
something within the girl’s staunch heart stirred.



On her outstretched hand, the bird gracefully landed,
peered into her soul, her attention it commanded.

Resplendent and fine, its feathers in all those dazzling hues
like the flowers; reds, yellows, greens and blues.

She could not help but caress those fine feathers,
as she stood amidst the irises and the heathers.

The bird sang a melody so sanguine and so sweet
only briefly it lingered in sorrow,
a song reminiscent of times long past,
and a subtle promise of tomorrow.



As the bird then moved to the palm of her hand
its beauty, a stunning mesmerization;
the awareness that it may soon fly away
was a sudden and terrifying realization.

She held it with care, grateful for each moment
treasuring each offering like a gift from a lover
Is your heart here to stay, she wanted to ask,
or does it belong to another?

You are not from this place, she thought to herself
You belong in paradise, your heavenly abode
Are you visiting, dear wanderer? Or lost, searching for home?
Still pursuing a path along your designated road?

How easy it would be to close that hand
hold the exquisite bird there forever..
It would sing to her every day,
A bond that would not sever.

But love is not of a forced possession
In her being, this she knew.
That vibrant light would surely dim
There would be no more vibrant hue



And so she wandered on in the field of flowers,
towards the blazing horizon of the dusking sky.
The majestic bird perched upon her open hand
as it sang the songs of days gone by.

Fear remains, along with many thoughts awoken
they set behind the fiery orange-crimson sun,
they hide behind fragile promises spoken,
and gold-gilded intentions begun.

Twilight descends, infused with the disquiet dark brings
accentuated by the stillness of night..
‘but the morning brings strength to her restless wings*’
and Hope, emerges with the Light.
“Behind the blood-stained curtains of Love,
there are fields of flowers where lovers wander...
To wander in the fields of flowers, pull the thorns from your heart.”
~ Rumi
http://skyblueandblack.com/2014/04/09/wanderers-in-a-field-of-flowers/
*Jackson Browne
 Jan 2015 Damaré M
Nite
My Friend
 Jan 2015 Damaré M
Nite
My friend is an amazing poet!
You see, I never knew
Till recently when he showed me a piece
While we were out for a tea date that was way overdue

We used to talk about everything and anything
My friend and I, we have many things in common
We'll talk about Star Wars, music, movies,
TV shows, shoes
Even books from James Clemens

But we stopped hanging out a while back
Even though we still see each other daily
We hardly talked, we drifted apart
We were so busy but I did miss him greatly

One day I noticed that he had this vacant look in his eyes
And I knew that he must be troubled
For although he was smiling at everyone
I felt this urge to look out and catch him if he stumbled

So after bugging him for a gazillion time
That we needed to catch up
He finally agreed to go out for tea
Where we talked with no one to interrupt

We talked and talked like we used to
Time passed slowly as our cups of tea and cigarette butts cluttered the table
Then he showed me a poem he had written
Which left me speechless and looking at my new idol

Wow! He sure can write
His writing is so inspiring it touches the soul
I felt ashamed sitting next to someone such as he
Someone who could turn his words into gold

So I would like to thank him for sharing this part of his life with me
I know my poem can never be as good as his has been
But hopefully he'll find this pleasing
Thank You Ryn!!!!
Wrote this over a couple of months. Tried my best to do justice to this amazing, gifted friend of mine. Here's to many more years and cups of tea together!  Hope you like it!
Thank you for inspiring me to start writing again! Oh and I'm happy that we're hanging out again!
 Jan 2015 Damaré M
Clare
So you think you know me,
For I tell you all I feel?

Enn Omane (my dearest),
I haven't even begun to say
What I fail to feel.
I sometimes despise the shallowness with which people dismiss someone because they are not 'someone new'
 Jan 2015 Damaré M
Alexis Robson
You were broken when you were five,
It's no wonder you were struggling to survive,
When your only support is a crutch of self-doubt,
How can anyone expect you to figure yourself out?


You lack the tools to fix yourself,
So you tend to turn to someone else,
To hold and guide you,
Always coming to your aid,
You forget the loneliness you felt when you were eight.


But using people as crutches is naïve,
Because eventually they get tired and leave,
And now you're ten, but left again,
Struggling to figure out how to fit in.


People come and go,
But you become wiser and grow,
Soon you're sixteen and have loyal friends,
And you realize there's no point in trying to "fit in".


The years fly and you turn eighteen,
And realize time has floated by like a dream,
You've learned to be your own crutch,
And that you used to overthink too much.

But life has taught you a lesson,
That you cannot use people as your medicine.

-a.r
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