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Jessica Jarvis Mar 2018
I often see poems that go by "untitled".
Some may even refer their poems as "Untitled" with capitalized importance.
"Untitled" is not to be, nor should it be, mistaken for "unimportant".
The work is still in process.
It has importance.

I often write poems that go by titles.
Some may even say that my poems are "Unoriginal" with cliche names.
"Unoriginal" is not to be, nor should it be, mistaken for "unintentional".
The work went through the process.
It has intention.

I often read poems because of their titles.
Some may even claim that their poems are "Profound" with unlimited potential.
"Profound" is not to be, now should it be, mistaken for "invaluable".
The work is still processing.
Its value has yet to be seen.
3/15/18

Yes, this is true, and you can take it at face value...

But it is also a metaphor.
Jessica Jarvis Feb 2018
Rainy days and dripping windows-
I look out. A mystical creature
Tiptoes into my front yard, knowing
He carries on his back the feature
Presentation: a man, maybe a knight.
His boots creak, walking up the steps
Of my front porch, a simpler sight
Than those from Romeo and Juliet
And other fairytale stories.
I slip on my fuzzy socks with gripping
Bottoms and head towards the door.
Silence. I open, and with his hand extending,
My feet join his on the wooden floor.
"Where are we going? I'm not sure
If I can be dressed like this and go that far."
He told me "The clouds are pure.
You just come as you are."
10/23/17

The title asks the same question that I have: "Who Is He?". Who does this appear to be for you?
afteryourimbaud Jan 2018
the severe coldness shot me still
like
how your tenderness caught me still.
Yasin Jan 2018
Poems are magnificent,
everything can be misunderstood.

Attempt to express what I feel,
all my anxiety, fears and hopes.
My inner entity, my inner creature
Au naturel everything in me.
My inner companion me
Some day it fears, my inner demon me
But otherwise sort of Buddha me
Enough of me

I need more words
to fill the gap.
I just cant connect
through the crackles of my consciousness.
have a crack to hone
Improve, progress just words of today,
in a negative way.

Some folks say life is awful, some say it's exceptional
Of course, everybody has another view.
But why the question? Is there an alternative?
I would not answer this rather I fear my inner voice.
Who makes me cry and want to answer.
Then I approve my answer.
Ideas swirling in my head,
Maybe brilliant but then it's gone.
Thinking to store these ideas, never works...
The past feels more realistic than now .
Try to erase some memories, never works...
Some are gone by itself, but not the feelings.
Where am I now? Is this later gone?

Remember erased an emotional masterpiece.
These days i discovered that human is empathetic,
Never saw that coming.
Ideas too fast in my brain.
Everything's a fragment
Exceptional everything
Even incomplete human being
Where am I? I am lost.

A little twitch of an idea rattles
Every other. Understand me?
Words are the best way to communicate
Whether talking or reading them.
Where are more words?
What impression can someone convey with so less amount of words.

The brain is fascinating,
The complexity is beautiful,
It can do many things,
Talking, Reading, Processing,
Everything is a product of brains,
Neuronal connection rule everything,
The only beauty about a bad expression.
Although just few people hear you,
Rendition is a sophisticated process to handle,
There are too many opportunities  to process.

Some notion will rest for the time being,
A long lifetime not for everyone,
There is something missing.
Another notion will resist to leave ,
If somebody is here, feel free to sense ecstasy,
Is the gap filled? Not enough, need more.

Made by Brain, human's most trickiest stronghold,
Former age was simplicity itself,
Hold everything plain to pretend mistakes,
This is a vast blemish.
Even nature appears simple,
But in reality it is the complicated thing on earth.

Simplicity is a virtue while expressing.
Another virtue is empathy,
to feel what others feel
Human is poorly at understanding other being...
... Misconceptions occur
Those virtues counteract themselves.
This is my first written poem. I was inspired by a YouTuber whom I will mention later. At the beginning I started to write about my feelings, but then I noticed that I wrote it so difficult so that just me can understand it, decorated with hidden easter eggs. A new idea was that I write about my expression, I like to paraphrase even when I talk with other individuals and they have a hard time to understand me. It took me nearly five hours, but I was in a state of flow so I finished before I began.
A Henslo Dec 2017
When a poem comes alive
I might be like Pygmalion
Not sharing her with anyone
Gently adoring her all my life

Yet, relieved from her laces
Doesn't a poem's magic lie
In that through the reader's eye
She may reveal her many faces?

So I charily hand her over
To the public domain
As however much I love her

It would be a thoughtless sin
Not letting you discover
What I never did put in
AH 2017
K Sep 2017
Life is fleeting she told him
They climbed in-between branches of trees
We have but a moment before-
She, rustling through leaves, slipped away
Footprints where feet no longer fell
He buys flowers for the ground
Her words still echo at night
"Loneliness is a condition of living"
"Empty rooms often speak the loudest"
Druzzayne Rika May 2017
No human can actually know what truth is
Because truth has too many dimensions
mixed with different perceptions
and people's interpretation
No human can see the truth in its true form
I can hardly say this poetry is true
I'm human too
Kate R Urse Feb 2017
You are the sun
You shine brilliantly
And steal the gaze of everyone on this Earth

You give warmth, you allow beauty to be beholded
And are a beauty to behold in yourself

You, the sun, are the center of our universe,
Gravitating everything towards you

But you burn my eyes.
Your light and goodness glares into them
Blinding me at times

I attempt to wear shades, I attempt
I attempt to look away

But as soon as I do you’re reflected in a window
Your light, the sun’s light, pierces my gaze, Burning my eyes.

And yes, you are the center of our universe, my universe
But why is that a good thing?

You, the sun, get to shine and share your brilliance,
You get to make people happy

All people, except for me
I stand, with your light shining in my eyes, burning them
Blinding them, making it impossible to see anything else
Making me love the darkness of the nights.
The nights where I steal your glory temporarily as a star.
No one may notice, and no one may stay to watch,
But those nights are glorious, allowing me to glow bright, something you, the sun, taught me to do

But you soon rise from the other side of the Earth
Covering my light once again.

Did you know that stars never really disappear, you just can’t see them because of the sun?
I did.
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