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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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What is poetry?


Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didnā€™t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


There are poets whose work, without exaggeration, belongs to the treasures of human thought and rightly is a world heritage. In our electronic library you will find a wide variety of poetry.
Opening a new collection of poems, the reader thus discovers a new world, a new thought, a new form. Rereading the classics, a person receives a magnificent aesthetic pleasure, which doesnā€™t disappear with the slamming of the book, but accompanies him for a very long time like a Muse. And it isnā€™t at all necessary to be a poet in order for the Muse to visit you. It is enough to pick up a volume, inside of which is Poetry. Be with us on our website.

Read books online Ā» Poetry Ā» Tears My Heart Sheds by Ayame Yamamoto (free children's ebooks pdf .txt) šŸ“–

Book online Ā«Tears My Heart Sheds by Ayame Yamamoto (free children's ebooks pdf .txt) šŸ“–Ā». Author Ayame Yamamoto



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Freshmen Year


Into The Sunset


The sun sets on another day
And I canā€™t bring myself to look away.
As it creeps under ocean spray
I wonder why I must go the other way.
Please tell me it will be okay
As I stare long into the deep
It will be a while before I sleep.
This is a place where demons creep.
The only good choice is to keep
Going on. And never, ever sleep.


Your Own Problem


I told you, you cannot get away with it
You know that, but you refuse to admit.
I am telling you it is too late to quit
But you say that you canā€™t take a hit.
I try to get through to you, bit by bit
When will you stop? I tire of this skit.
And your only excuse is hardly legit
Tell me the whole story, what did you omit?
You canā€™t back out, you promised to commit.
And to tell you the truth, I miss your wit.


A Scrap of Paper


It is a symbol of scorned ideas
Of broken dream and lots of tears.
The piece of paper is torn and ripped
With a boot print where someone stepped
This paper is a symbol of all that I regret
But this is something that I donā€™t get
On the paper is a beautiful picture
That youā€™d have seen if youā€™d just turned it over.
This piece of paper is, and always will be,
A ripped up, stepped on, abused symbol of me.


A True Story


The silence of a peaceful morning
Was broken by a raucous ā€œBangā€.
It seemed the feisty, energetic cat
Was chasing the dog for a change.
The poor little dog whimpered in pain,
The angry feline let out a hiss.
Screaming in fury that his attack missed
The small scurry ended with a shriek
And the dog still keeps his distance
From the pretentious cat named Mittens.


Living Life


If only one person was optimistic
In this whole wide world at a time
It wouldnā€™t take very much at all
For our bunch to be brought down.
But only half of the population
Canā€™t find it in them to be kind.
They always appear to have lost their spirit
A good day is when they donā€™t do anything
Life can suck when you just give up
But then itā€™s not life, and no one cares.


From My Point of View


In this place where nothing will grow
Where we are no mortal could know
A place of torment, hellfire and pain
In the devilā€™s eyes weā€™re all fair game
If we had another chance, if only, if only,
Maybe the afterlife wouldnā€™t be so lonely.
All the while we canā€™t even imagine
What we did to cause this to happen
We try to wake up, maybe itā€™s only a dream
Hell on earth, itā€™s worse that it may seem.


Only the Un-Famous

Not all of us are meant for fame.
Not everyone leaves a dent where they came
And not all really resent that fact
They just lament that it had to be them
Yet still others refuse to pent up themselves
And they seem intent on moving on up
They get sent all over the world
They are not content with just getting by
End up bent to do anotherā€™s bidding
Yet none feel they misspent their time


Name Acrostic


Just donā€™t talk much, I know Iā€™m quiet
Although Iā€™ve got a lot on my mind. I
Sometimes wonder what would happen if I said
My thoughts about people. Better not think about it,as
If I cared. Just keep to myself, and Iā€™ll be fine,
Never again! I wonā€™t let them get to me.
Everyone assumes Iā€™m fine, but they assume too much. I wish

Someone would come along who could feel
My pain, share my burden, heal my soul.
It gets to be too much, but I could never
Tell anyone what is wrong, just that I
Have a reason for not talking.


I Am Paranoid


I am paranoid
I wonder what that noise is behind meā€¦
I hear footsteps behind me
I see figures in the shadows
I am never alone.
I pretend not to notice them watching me
I feel their eyes on me
I touch the window pane as I look out
I worry that they poisoned my food
I cry myself to sleep at night
I am not crazy.
I understand, but at the same time I donā€™t
I say ā€˜Why canā€™t you leave me alone?ā€™
I dream of being free from their clutches
I try to leave in the middle of the night
I hope they donā€™t find me
I am a prisoner no more.


I Am Numb


I am numb
I wonder why no one will help me.
I hear my parents shouting downstairs
I see only one way to fix this.
I am the problem.
I pretend everything is okay sometimes.
I feel pain for the first time.
I touch the blood seeping out
I worry that someone will stop me.
I cry out when my parents find me
I am almost free.
I understand that nothing is alright here.
I say ā€œLet me goā€
I dream of a happier place
I try to keep my eyes open
I hope I made the right choice.
I am in a better place now.


Vampires


We are the creatures of the night.
We canā€™t go out in broad daylight,
Or else we shrivel, squeal and burn.
Just wait ā€˜till dark, then itā€™s our turn.


Werewolves


We appear normal to human eyes,
But wait, we have a big surprise.
Donā€™t stay out in the moonlight
Or be ready for a little bite.


What a Mess


I cannot get away from this place;
This place that desperately needs a broom.
And I begin to lose all hope, all grace,
Then I realize I am in my room.


Messy


Messy
Dirty, Icky
Tripping, falling, searching
Go clean up right now!
Messy


Siblings


Siblings
Annoying, Frustrating
Whining, running, jumping
Parents should have stopped
Siblings


Love


Love
Cute, adorable
Hugging, kissing, fighting
I know Iā€™m too young
Love


Self Confidence


I have never had
Any self-confidence, and
For the longest time
I had no way to express
Myself, my thoughts and feelings.


Make Sense


Some things will never
Make any sense to me, like
War, hatred, fighting.
It is all stupid, because
We could all be friends and live.


Humor


Haikus can be fun,
But I canā€™t write a good one
Because I am dumb.


Favorite Activity


I love to hike in
The national parks where the
Trees are all you see.


To Listen


There are voices I hear in my head.
Sometimes they sound like my friends
Other times they are my parents,
But really the voices are only in my mind.
A if Iā€™d listen to what they said
If I did theyā€™d annoy me to no ends,
Tell me I canā€™t win our arguments.
Lie like itā€™s nothing, theyā€™re never kind.

Theyā€™d never let me go anywhere,
Let me think no one could, would care.
Theyā€™d say I am dumb, insignificant.
Iā€™d start dreaming and theyā€™d say I canā€™t.
If I listened Iā€™d be so depressed.
Good thing I donā€™t, so Iā€™m not stressed.
If everyone listened to the voice in their head
Weā€™d soon realize our potential is dead.


Painting of Life


Each brush stroke soft, the colors light,
After all, this is only the beginning.
And youā€™re just starting out, you can learn.
You will be fine, because no one is perfect.

You are starting to get the hang of it,
And now it seems easier to be yourself
Be bold if you want, use lots of colors!
Iā€™ll be here to guide you if you need me.

With more experience you are getting better
Wait, you canā€™t do that! Youā€™ll smear the paint!
What will you do now? You ruined it!
You cannot do it over, you have no second try.

You should have been more careful,
Maybe I shouldnā€™t have pushed you so hard.
Itā€™s not my fault youā€™ve messed it up. You
Might have done better, if you had known

Itā€™s the Painting of Life, and now itā€™s done.
And now itā€™s done.


Eight Weary Travelers


Eight weary travelers
Come from a land afar.
One couldnā€™t read a stop sign,
So he got run over by a car

Seven weary travelers
Who didnā€™t know the area.
One forgot to get his shots,
So he died of malaria

Six weary travelers
Find the mountains striking.
One held the map upside down,
And he got lost while hiking.

Five weary travelers
Passing through New Mexico.
One thought he saw aliens,
And was abducted by a UFO.

Four weary travelers
Drove across the ā€˜Lone Star Stateā€™.
One happened to be an immigrant,
He got busted at the gate.

Three weary travelers
On a ship that really stank.
One told the captain so,
And was forced to walk the plank.

Two weary travelers
Sick and tired and in despair.
One refused to ask for directions,
The other just left him there.

One weary traveler
Sitting on a tall fence.
She cannot help but wonder
Why only girls have any sense.



Sad Poems


Favorite Tree


Swinging on the swing
In the tree.
That tree, The Tree
That I loved to swing from
When I was younger
Where I learned to climb,
The branch where I liked to sit.
Iā€™d like to swing one more time
Take a last breath
The fall leaves are so pretty.


Symbols


Ripped, faded piece of paper
Stepped on and thrown away.
A boot print on one side
But a lovely picture
On the other side
That no one can see
Because no one even cares.
That paper is, and always will be
A torn up, stepped on,
Broken symbol of me.


Cold Blades


Suicide is not just for the
Down and Depressed,
Razors are not just for
Spilling blood red,
They are for spilling tears
That do not normally come
Feelings we cannot show
Poetry is not only for lovers,
It is for those who have no love
And who will never know.


No Sleeping


No wonder I canā€™t seem to sleep
With these demons creeping
There in the shadows,
The creatures in the night
Stalking, pursuing, digging
Clawing at my mind
I cannot ignore them,
I will not just hide from them,
I must face my inner demons,
To get to that eternal sleep.


Distracting Yourself


It seems like fun, letting loose
But underneath it all,
You canā€™t let go
Of the feeling of rejection;
Denying who you are.

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