Heart
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I began this blog with the idea of writing poetry. Then, it expanded into both prose and philosophy. I write through this blog to share a density of emotions and analogies, carried through the words. As I see the world today, I am left with the conclusion that people are not close, especially when the
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“If heart is what it takes to be a leader, then can this be taught? What person can be taught, through schooling, to have a heart, to care for what they are about to govern? If such is impossible, then leadership cannot be centered around experience and knowledge. There is blatant idiocy in stating that
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“There will never be a heart within a chest if that chest is not meant to be opened. It becomes then a coffin, holding something dead.” – To not Sink a Friend
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I thought with life upon a wire,I could aim a little higher.Force me behind a cageFor I should never swayWith you in arms, ever again. I am without control,Just the beast with nothing to holdBut his own entrails,His guilt,His form that has scarred the landscapeBy simply being here. Please let me lay aloneIn the open
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All that appears to be broken, can somehow be fixed. Although, all that has been broken of a heart, cannot be mended, if impossible. Do not repair what rips the wound open, further. Please, if you may, ascertain the fallen leaves for their cast shadows. Know the pain by the many wounds. Your droplets will
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I picture thee, open and empty,With palms facing your knees,And eyes upon the surest sign,Of life with broken wings. Kisses are gentle when they are spokenAs well as simply given. Kisses are harsh when they bite,And retract with a mouthful of flesh. I am sure to love you,As much as you’ll allow the loveTo flood
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I see thee, upon a land so muddy, in the blood of sorrow,You’ve never, held onto happiness, for long.Here, I yearn, to be the one,To cradle your defeat, in longest arms, and trembling fingers,I fathom your emptiness, a lot likeThe families of sickness, in nations heavy, on poverty. We’ll not fall, with the tears, that
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Yellow daffodils,In raining glory from sun’s holy rays,Are there to eclipse the rain,Of truest blue,To spill forth sadness onto my skin,From wherever pain breeds,In a nest, in a heart,In a place where is shelved all that is kept. Of all your beauty,Where plays the music of a throbbing heart,Where comes the torment of a woeful
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Your face,With idle tulips grown from lips so sweet,And eyes so resplendent against the moon’s gleam,I wish to know of your beauty.Of glassy complexion, and everything wanting,Of everything wanted, by me. You have a heart that needs holding,For it deserves freedom.There are chains,Needing to be removed,A love I have vowed to embrace,With all my brutal
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Slow down, this pitiful tear,That has made, its merry mark, on my cheek,I find it to be, too earnest,And thwarting, from the sight, of someone, so vivid.You have been beautiful, to this day,A woman, as the moon, finally sees darkness.The darkness, of a lifeTurning, to death. Go wishfully, to the naked forest,And grow roses, in
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Pleasure me with the face of roses,And feed me your graces,Long, was your tresses, made of ebony.Stone-like, is your heart, and made of the same.Find me next to nectar,Let us leave the sacred altar,And play nude in the mud.Children are ignorant, while question is their infinity. My beauty with stains of descent,Upon soil, where your
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Step into me,Cold and broken,With pieces placed in your arms,Cutting flesh, already bruised.Tell me sweet verse,Over an idled curse.A swollen love,Not from above. From here,Two eyes do appear,From between shadows,So dense and heavy.You have curves that dance,Under vivid wilderness,And a beautiful face,Shown to magnify,My perception to be acute: – For I see of you,The bluest
Modern Romanticism 