all that i knowlet me tell you something.
poetry is all around you and me. it existed from the very beginning. it was here before
music and painting. it floats in the air, and it is the air. you can find it in the tops of trees
caught in spiderwebs, or sleeping on the blades of grass. there is poetry in your lungs and
on your eyelashes and in the crook of your elbow. poetry is the freckles on your eyelids
and the lines and pores on the tops of your hands. it sleeps between your vertebrae and is
the sunlight when you wake up. it is the morning and the day and the dusk and the night.
and it is the sounds in the night. poetry is the way you move and blink and smile and how
you feel when you laugh. poetry is jumping in a lake, just to be in the lake.
this this is poetry.
WishThe stars are out of hiding, all perfectly aligned,
Like a dozen tiny mirrors strewn across the dark skies.
They discern the truth. It speaks louder than words,
When reflected unflawed through your radiant eyes.
Carried by a temperate breeze that cools the air around,
Our laughter drifts sweetly, echoed gently on hushed lips
Of the fairies who venerate our childish little games;
The affectionate touch of fingertips on fingertips.
The sage grass and daises gently cushion our rest,
As we fall tranquil and silent, like two feathers of a dove
Each embracing the other, holding close as they lay
And gaze in approbating wonder at the diamonds above.
Ignited, one rogue light arcs silver and bold,
Shining chlorine and crystal down on memories we'll cherish.
With your soft hand concentrically warming in mine,
I point out to his smile. Shooting star. Make a wish.
Then your eyelids eclipse those brilliant suns,
Leave me gasping for air, left suspended in time.
But soon you return, tend
Perfect Cut: PoemThe line is drawn.
A perfect cut.
The tears flow
But you can't stop.
The red starts to run down your arm.
You think it takes away the rest of your troubles.
You lie on the floor
Scarred to the core
Inside and out
Until you can't handle it anymore.
You scream in pain
But you can't do a single thing.
Feeling the numbness throughout your body
You know it's only a matter of time.
You drew the line
A perfect cut
You're nothing now
And now you're stopped.
IMMEASURABLE WORDSIf I could paint a million words
Within your heart and soul,
I would color your days
With letters from my heart;
Words to make your soul smile at me
And poetry to inspire your heart.
introductionI suffer from Depression, frequent Panic Attacks and possibly from Asperger Syndrome.
I assume that most of you already know what Depression is. People (such as my parents, friends, doctors) are always telling me that most people will have at least one form of depression in their lifetimes. This means nothing to me. To me it feels as if there is no way that other people, except for chronic sufferers of the disease have it. I feel isolated from everyone.
As far as I can remember I have always been 'unhappy' as I was bullied quite a bit thorough Primary School. I was always a hyper active child, and one of my friends always called me crazy. I hated hearing this all the time. I think it might actually have made me go a little insane. One of my other friends asked me why I was so hyper all the time and I tried to explain to her that sometimes when people are unhappy, they try to make themselves happy by making other people happy.
In High School, I soon found out that being hyper did not ma