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Hannah Anderson May 2014
I wrote a poem for my biography to a special person about Adam, I thought you would like to read it.

Blue Heart

You were 18, so many years in front of you.
It felt like a dark eternity, you didn’t want to go.
I saw it in your sunken eyes.
The vacant stare and sad dark eyes.
I saw when you were sitting around the table prom night.
So much going around but you were too calm
too collected.
too inside your mind for us.
I knew that blank expression from experience
All too well.
You screamed for help
silent and loud
I reached for your hand
but you
f
e
  l
   l



You were poised and calm
Broken but full of love.
All I wanted to do was help you.
you were standing still when the world went on
and it did go on, it did, without you.

When you were standing there at the edge
I wondered about you, all in my head.
We were short lived, a friendship that was fast.
You came, changed me, then you left.
it came and went in a flash.

I knew when no one else could guess.
you put it all on me, didn’t you.
but I was not cross with you.
Heartbroken, yes
scared, yes
alone, yes
mad, no


Your color was blue
Blue heart, blue veins
Blue is the color of our planet
from far far away
we wore it proud it was all for you,
a blue solemn silence.
and the world spun fast and
all the people hurried fast, real fast
and no one ever smiled.

You weren’t all there, in that head of yours.
dark and empty
you were sad but you lived like you would die
tomorrow
tomorrow came too soon and it was up to you.
it was always up to you.

Meeting you was bitter
you put me through stress, anxiety and heartache
you put me through shame and shock
All I wanted was you by my side,
and you there was not.

Meeting you was sweet
you gave me smiles and laughs,
good music and thoughts
you gave me a feeling of friendship and care.
All I wanted was you by my side,
but you were not there.

You were poised and calm,
you rubbed off on me.
I was hyped and excited
you called me “ADHD”


You drove an old red beater with water bottles everywhere,
with **** in the glove compartment.
but you didn’t care.
Your drove with sunglasses and the FM radio loud.
You drove in silence, thinking no doubt.


You loved the sun but you would hike for the shade
when we were together you took me away.
I didn’t think, I didn’t have nerves.
We talked about the world
We talked about life
You had a life you thought you didn’t deserve.

Whoever planted that seed
had some **** nerve
you wrote like me but I wrote for myself
you wrote for us when there’d be nothing else.

I knew when no one else could guess.
you put it all on me, didn’t you.
but I was not mad.
Heartbroken, yes
scared, yes
alone, yes
mad, no


When you were gone
I read
and
I read
i wanted to know exactly when
you felt what you felt.
You called me your jav friend
you called me your angel

You are up there watching over me
I yelled and screamed
I couldn’t breathe.

I shut them out,
I cursed at you.
I hated you
I cried for you


I only see you in my head
Dreaming once and a while of your smile,
of your eyes
but they are never dark
they are never sad
they are never empty
The vacant stare is not there.
your hair is a giant mess
and I freeze that moment right there.


You said you were alone
you said it was a secret
you asked me about my darkest
and you told me all your secrets
I have never been in that much peace knowing I kept you there
It felt like moments when it was hours and you were gone too **** soon.
tomorrow came too fast and it was up to you.
it was always up to you.

Now I wear a band on my wrist
and pray for your peace
that is all I have left,
but you mean so much to me.
I hope you are happy,
I hope your journey has ended
and you found what you wanted
My heart was once broken
but soon if all this is true
it will be mended.
This is about my friend who committed suicide on 5/19/13 the anniversary just passed and I wrote this for english.
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Kagami May 2014
"Sketch
-------
In every drawing, every sketch, every line made with a pencil.
There are pictures hidden.
An emotion left behind.
An imprint.

Every **** at my screen forms a letter, making up the words you are reading now.
And every tap of my fingernail is some sort of song I have in my head.

Everything has a meaning. Even if you don't know it.
A math equation: 17t =.5+14(t+.25)
17 means something to someone. An anniversary.
.25: A quarter. Maybe dinner for a homeless man.

Everything has meaning.

I drew a tree on my page. And that symbolizes the ways I've grown.
Ways I've changed, matured.
And also the beauty and grace of just simply
Standing tall.

Every seam on my dress was designed by someone.
I am wearing an idea.
And that idea could've been someone's pride and joy.
The career they dreamed of and finally achieved.

You never know.

Every stroke of chalk, oil, paint, is an emotion.
I would stab a canvas with a pencil lead thin brush
And it would make a star.
So simple, so beautiful, but what if my head, my heart, my body, was trembling with anger.
Or fear.
Or sadness.
A white rose is beautiful, you'd give it to your lover.
But did you know it symbolizes death?
It's peaceful nature and delicate scent, it's bright light, it's bright color.

It makes me cry every time.
Because somehow, when whoever created that symbol or came up with the idea,
They wanted to die. And they most likely did.
So then, why do people wear black at funerals?

The color is the opposite of death. If you count the white rose.
It symbolizes rebirth.

Living in the hearts of those who actually showed up to mourn you.
While others might have skipped because its just too sad or,
Maybe, they're happy. And they wore yellow that day instead.

Read between the lines. Between the creases.
Between the fingers of someone I used to know,
There were scars.

Who looked at the side of someone's finger?
No one. They were hidden.

She was hurt, but she wore pink.
And her scars were pink as well.
New, like a baby's skin. And what if it was? If it was a baby's skin,
Her way of rebirthing herself into the world and find her new soul,
Her new knowledge?

Read between the lines.
Because she had them in her toes, too."
KILLME May 2014
The six month mark
For that one time in the dark
Safe from December breeze
You laid on top of me
And left my hair a messy mop
Then you flew to the bus stop
Leaving me very confused
And I'll admit, a little amused
Is four days near
(Should we celebrate and cheer?)
I wonder what we'll do next
For a secret fling, you're the best
Yet I've come to love you with my whole heart
And hope this never tears us apart.
When I think about our future, I'm pumped
Although, our relationship leaves me stumped.
We all have that one friend we occasionally fool around with every weekend right? ...no? ***** for you guys then<3

I love you, babycakes, I hope we're crazy weird amazing best friends forever<333
(I hope you're cool with me posting this even with your name left out(as always))
She knelt by the dark grey  marble headstone
once again on the anniversary
of the day she had happily buried her husband
six feet down in the ground
eight years since she had caused his demise
for a man she did despise!

As the widow gloated behind a false facade
the same figure watched
behind her the deceased husband stood
turning could not see him
thinking once again how good and thrilling
never a suspected killing!

No idea her good life would come to an end
as supernatural forces gathered
this time he followed her back to a plush car
the long dead husband was back
what had changed to allow him the power
to be back at this hour!

Angry sat next to the wife who murdered him
driven back to his own home
familiar items brought back good memories
from when he lived here
now a ghost haunting the house he loved
before down the stairs shoved!

Whether there is a heaven or a place called hell
he had prayed so very hard
from a dark pitiless limbo it changed to hope
now with a new man argued
started by the woman who had meant so much
now he would loath to touch!

****** to the floor berating of him was bored
scrambling to her feet ran
up those familiar stairs shouting more abuse
pursued by this enraged man
like a replay saw her violent death as she fell
her neck broken he could tell!

Instantly was at peace free no longer in turmoil
a tunnel so bright he could see
looking down at her lifeless body he passed on
but a faceless evil took her soul
engulfing it for that overdue journey to hell
righteousness had created this spell!

Jutsice it seems had at last been done!

The Foureyed Poet.
She thought it was the perfect ******! But justice was eventually done! The Foureyed Poet.
Speed
The rapidity in moving or proceeding
Swiftness
Rate of motion or progress
Full
MAXIMUM
Optimum rate of motion

It’s all been SO fast
We've made SO much progress
In SO VERY little time
This is our *optimal
rate of *motion

6 months
181 days
4344 hours
15638400 seconds
Our season of love thus far

Countless kisses
Hundreds of pricele$$ moments
ENDLESS “I love you”s
And it only goes on from here

I can’t wait to see it  A L L
to breathe in every moment
to feel every luscious touch
to taste every sweet kiss
to hear every way you say my name, like no one else does

SO stick around
Let us watch this relationship
Blossom, progress, grow,
Speed
Together, *my love
Kareena May 2014
For once, I'm at a loss for words
I can't write eloquence into our anniversary yesterday
Because it was magical in and of itself
You planned me a quiet picnic in the woods, just you and me
Cooking hot dogs on a charcoal grill we didn't know how to use
And eating chicken salad
Going kayaking was a dream, paddling along
On a quiet tributary to a bigger lake, we went back into the woods
We sat in our little floating craft and talked about first kisses and magic
We wondered at how simple acts could have led us apart and how happy we are together
I noticed the calmness of the water and the intricacies of the ripples when I indulged my paddle into the stream
We were out for an hour, just paddling along
Talking, living, laughing, loving together.
Just being together
We eventually made our way back in, an hour car ride away from home
Talking some more, laughing together, enjoying the company
We went back to my place and ate dinner with my family
Shrimp Scampi with salad and bread
Then roasted marshmallows and laughed when they became torches
Nothing is better than marshmallows with the people you love
After that we set up my hammock and just swung there and watched the sun slip below the horizon
Taking in the scenery, we didn't need to talk, because there was nothing more that could have been said
It was magical until my little brother came over to us and asked why we weren't talking and called us boring
But he doesn't understand, not quite yet
Not until he is sitting on a hammock with a girl, and knows there isn't anything to say
It was a beautiful day, wonderful by itself
Lucy Marie May 2014
Missing you is the emotional equivalent of an anxiety attack

I wake up         expecting to see   your face,
                or hear your                            breathing.
I get out of        my bed  h o p i n g     to   find you in my k i t c h e n
or    on my                  couch.
I         steep my         morning     tea
for   five         minutes
because                the tea was intended for  y o u .
Who      else would   drink the       microwaved-till-boiling          tea with           such   joy?

I get   dressed for      my day
wearing   matching socks        because that’s    how you like it -
they     never stay   that   way     though -
paying          special attention         to the     bruises you’ve left on my   c h e s t
          You tell me t ha t they say      “I ’ m   y o u r s”
I think       they say  “ Y o u ’ r e   a l l    I   w a n t,
Y o u ' re   a l l    I  w i l l    ever  n e e d."




I often     sit on          my bed,
       staring  o f f    into s  p  a  c  e,
thinking of your      breath   on my          neck
and        the   u n steady      t h u m p        of your   h ea rtb ea t   in       my    ear

Your        s  m  i  l  e     is the      north star      in the     dark skies of my             brain
and      it is             all of the     guidance I    n e e d.

Longing              for your     a t t e n t i o n      and your   com pa ny seems to have      become a daily      activity.
This was written a few days ago.
I've always struggled with anxiety and depression, maong other things, and I've been able to manage it for the most part. But these last couple of weeks, it's been seemingly impossible. I wrote this while I was in the midst of all of that and I was trying my hardest to force my brain into some kind of structured focus. My brain nearly refused but I was able to stay in one frame of mind long enough to complete this; hence the entirely unorganized structure (or lack of?) in this poem.
I'm happy enough with it to give it to my girlfriend for our anniversary coming up in a couple of days.
It's not my best, but I am pretty proud of it.
spysgrandson May 2014
just another day, this eve of May
with April's abnegation of her title, the queen of time
just another day, when the mother marked an "X" on the calendar,
holding her breath with hope, her coffee in one hand
and the red pen in the other, the hand she used to make two slashes
to bring your boy a fraction closer to home

he was to arrive alive and well in a fortnight,
neatly packaged, like a belated  mother's day gift
a reasonable thing to expect, the eve of May,
since you, his father, had arrived the same way,
after her same hand, younger, more dream driven,
had brought you home with the same crosses

but you, the man for whom she waited, all those eves ago
were wrapped neatly only long enough to see April's thirty crosses,
May's eager ambitious start, and you came unwrapped,
leaving your uniform on the bedroom floor
in a heavy heap you said reminded you of what you left behind,
not in the steaming stench of Mekong’s paddies,
but in the quiet lanes of your hometown,
in the high school where you met her, the church where you married
and where you were sure you would be buried

‘twas not yet to be so, your eve of May passed,
along with thirty five more, though you were there,
walking the same streets, to you, the crumpled green garments
were still in a heap on the floor, even though
she had buried them in a drawer years before
you did not mark off the days, for they made you
wonder if their end meant your homecoming
and not his, an infidelity you felt

you watched March march by, and April finally relent
when “they” came to the door, neatly packaged themselves,
***** and filled with well formed words--you did not hear them,
though you saw their lips move, and you watched
your wife walk past, to the ancient kitchen,
the kingdom of the calendar,
and make a final "X" this eve of May
just another day, when another mother's son  
who was crucified in the desert
would become a mystic memory
written in the middle of the night, the last night of April, commemorating the anniversary of a family being told their son was killed in action in Iraq
Dorothy Apr 2014
They are a dyad besieged in true love bliss
She knew that passion would define them after their first kiss
He knew she would become someone he could never get away from,
would never resist
Together they became the exemplification of love
Supporter of one another
Following the recipe taught to them from their savior above
Because God is love and they respected him
Imitating his qualities, creating a fine symbol of what a union should be.
They will yet again celebrate their friendship, passion and tender devotion in a couple of months.
One day I hope that I too can resemble my parents profound abysmal love.
I am here because of you
I have been able to Expirience this world because of you two
And I am thankful for this
But you done so much more here's a short list
You've been a pillar that's always there and even when you are mad I know you care.
You've shown me how to act and shown me I don't know all the facts.
When I see you two what I perceive Is a wish, a dream I hope to ,one day, achieve.
you've shown me to keep my composure in life, keep strong when things seems strife because it is with in my power to make it right.
You've given me goals to reach and it won't be easy you see,
but I'll make you proud if I get knocked down I'll get right back on my feet because that's what you have taught me.
You've given me more then I can explain in words, to think I could even scrap the top was quiet absurd but I just needed to show I appreciate what you have done so this is a kind of thank you letter from your eldest son.
I wrote this to my parents for their anniversary 17 years love them so much
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