*ahem* Poetry? No duh...

Another poem, the writing quality is mediocre, but I felt I needed to pour a glass of my heart out.


Unsung

You stare at the floor
Wishing you were someone else
You’d take back everything you said
Knowing nothing would turn out right.

You are so blind.

You look at your reflection
Seeing nothing special
You dream of big things
That you never expect to see.

Don’t look so surprised.

You wear the same pained expression
Day after day after day
Hating your own existence
Wondering why you’re here in this way.

I know the way you think.

You grimace as people walk by
Not wanting them to see you
Not because you’re at all shy
You just believe no one would want you.

But I see you, in a different light.

You care when others hurt
You comfort when hope is lost
And nothing can stop you from
Standing up for your friends.

Can’t you see?

Your faith is inspiring
Your loyalty rivals that of many
A better person to trust
I have never had.

This is how I see.

Believe me when I say
My friend,
I wouldn’t have it any other way
Because you mean the world to me.

You are my unsung
Hero.

WHEE!

Another poem, written quite a while ago, just recently unearthed out of a drawer by yours truly. Warning: It is sad. Comments, of course, are encouraged.

Pain

You cannot see it.
I cannot help but feel like I am
Caught in a torrent of misery.
Drowning in hopelessness.
Loving you when you love another.
Suffocating.
Choking on my love,
Trying to keep it from consuming me.
But no matter how much I try,
I cannot forget.
Pain.
You will never know it.
The desperate despair that
Is a constant shadow
Will not let my heart
Forget you.
I cannot stop my heart from beating
When it knows you are near.
My love for you, pent up inside,
Begs for fresh air that will not come.
I cannot strangle my love
Cannot kill it, so that I might have relief
From the pain
That you cannot see.

What is it with me and poetry...?

I cannot seem to stop writing it, even though 'tis not my forté! This poem is about a year old, 'tis depressing, yes, because I was in a depressing mood when I wrote it. But ah well. I was going through a hard time. Another shall follow after this, I believe, because I found them both in a drawer I was rooting through.
Need help with a title, peeps! Comments and critques welcome!

Untitled

And so, I walk on.
The same path I trod before
The way of self-inflicted agony
The road I thought I had left behind.

I walk on.
As the grief weighs down
And my heart wonders how it is
To be loved in return.

I walk on.
Wondering why I jumped into that hole
Chiding myself for not being on my guard
Wishing I could leave my broken path behind.

I walk on.
Slowly dying inside
Unable to hold a smile
My mask has become my pride.

I walk on.
What is wrong with me?
Why can I not forget?
Did I betray my heart in the end?

I walk on.
Ever so slowly now.
Wishing I could forget
That I ever loved at all.

Even so, I walk on.

Another Poem!

Yes, I know.
I have neglected my writing blog. I am ashamed.

I have not written in a while, except when I am brutally forced to do so by my professors. ;)

Yes, yes, I know. Shame on me.

Anyways, here is a poem I wrote for class. :)


Parting

Green eyes
Infused with cobalt haze.
Unruly laugh
Resounds freely.
Calm essence
Emanates concern.
Wide smile
Hints at dawn of evening stars.
Final embrace
Of enduring arms.

Poem!

You know, for someone that views poetry writing as excruciatingly challenging, I tend to write it quite often. :o

Melody

Encompassed in stunning silence,
The world, surrounding, wanes.
Struggling to grasp that thin alliance
To ensnare the echo that eludes

Those unable to perceive the noise.
Vision may resonate vibrantly now,
Though dully to those with no choice
But to relinquish the sound

In exchange for tranquility.
It is seemingly blissful and serene,
But for those with the unwanted formality
Of living perpetually in noiseless harmony,

It is to be encompassed in stunning silence.

Sonnet

As much as I don't like poetry, I write a lot of it. Here's a sonnet that I had to write for English this past week. And, if it doesn't make sense, it's really not supposed to.

What Has Been Said

From under the black skies the wander’r came
It is said he wanders, but is not free
He came with great purpose and without shame
From beyond the unknown and past the sea
Into dead realms he is said to breathe life
“Look here,” He whispers. “Come out of your mire,”
The lands turn to him, broken down by strife
“Look here; what was a spark is now a fire!”
They say he scatters a blaze with bare hands
Seeking to give life to realms that were lost
He leaves his mark on the fire-kissed lands
Restoring their glory, mindless of cost
He wanders alone, yet is somehow led
But this much I know, it’s what has been said.

Yet Another Poem...

I wrote this one about a month ago. Disclaimer: I am not a poet, and yes, I do know it. So please do not have any preconceived notions on how this poem is going to be.

The Journey

I started along my desolate path,
Wishing there was a shorter way to take,
The trail ahead seemed so dull and forlorn,
There was a dismal sensation I just couldn’t shake.

For so many miles I walked alone,
I trudged along till the pain I couldn’t bear,
With gasping breaths I collapsed to the ground,
Indulging my senses in my strong self-despair.

I reached out for something to hold on to.
Would I have to scream for someone to come?
I looked straight ahead, as if the dark wasn’t alive,
What I saw then might not have bothered some.

A pinpoint of light in the shadows was there,
Most might’ve considered it a good sign.
But I thought of it as a curse, a trick;
For what through this horrible darkness can shine?

The ember of the night stared me in the face,
Drawing closer with a hazy glow,
I shrank from it in absolute fear,
There was nowhere I could go.

I forced myself to stand my ground,
Though my heart quivered with fear,
My muscles heaved in weariness,
Somehow, I sensed that my end was very near.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, You appeared,
You leapt out protectively, your back to me, Your hands reached out,
I recognized You, but I knew You not,
Though You’ve always known my every thought and doubt.

You seized the spark, cradling it in Your palms,
Turning back toward me, Your smile spread wide,
You knelt down before me, Your hands opening to reveal,
The ember I’d feared, and whose purity I’d denied.

You looked at me reassuringly, and with a nod you said;
“Take this gift and know just how much I care for you.”
Hesitantly, I lifted my hand and touched it to Yours,
It was then that I realized, everything about You was true.

You tilted Your hand, letting the spark fall into mine,
The ember dimmed instantly, I thought I was causing it to die,
You groaned softly, did You feel the ember’s pain?
A tear rolled down Your cheek, my heart wrenched. I can’t bear to see You cry.

How awful am I, to have accepted such a gift!
For the exchange was for my pain, for all of my grief,
My Hero, my Rescuer, how could You believe,
That I am worthy for this, that I deserve this relief?

I knelt down to You, trying to see through my tears,
I clutched the once-living ember, that died because of me,
“I’m not worthy for Your gift,” I sobbed.
“There’s no way I can ever be free.”

I pushed my closed hands to You, my head bowed in shame,
I felt You open my hands, and then heard You say;
“Look up, My child, I want you to know,
That you will for the first time, see the brilliant light of day.”

I raised my eyes, and let them rest upon Your kind face,
“Watch here,” You whispered. “Come out of your mire,”
Then You blew on the ember, bringing it to life,
“Look here, for what was once a spark, is now a fire!”

The spark erupted into flames, consuming my hands,
But I had no fear, I felt no pain,
The inferno spread all over my body, Your fire consumed my evil,
On my skin Your healing blood was forever stained.

My world came to life.
For the first time the darkness was nowhere in sight,
My aches and hurts were gone,
For I had been saved by Your Light.

It has been many years now, since that day when You found me,
My journey here has almost come to an end,
I look back in wonder, my King, and I marvel,
At how You ever came to me, and asked me to be Your friend.

Lord, how have I gotten this far?
What has happened that has sped up time?
For now when I look at my heart’s poem,
I see that You are the one who finished the last rhyme.