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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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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.


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Read books online Ā» Poetry Ā» Pandora's Box, Unleashed by Lucia Roberts (ereader manga TXT) šŸ“–

Book online Ā«Pandora's Box, Unleashed by Lucia Roberts (ereader manga TXT) šŸ“–Ā». Author Lucia Roberts



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To save myself for you

 You said there was one thing

that could make you stay with me.

I non-chalantly promised

ā€œAnything.ā€

as traitorous tear

sthreaded their revenge down my face.

ā€œSave you for you, and save you for meā€

he said.

ā€œYes, Iā€™ll do itā€

I said.

So he kissed me and left.

 

I crumpled; confused.

I can do what he asked.

I know I can.

It took hours of broken thoughts,

of empty, hollow rivers in my vains

,the fear of total loss,

and dark, impossible hope of redemptionbut finally,

in his absence and my realizations of self,

I saved me for me, and in turn saved me for him.

 

He spoke to me a short time later;

inquired to my state of mind.Coldy I replied

ā€œHorrid, broken, but I saved me for me.ā€

I said.

ā€œGood. Thatā€™s all I wanted. Now please come back to me;

I love you.ā€

He still loves me.

He did this for me.

He showed me he had no other way to make me see

what needed to change inside of me

for me to heal and us to work.

I fell back to him saying

I love you too.

ā€œI saved us because I saved me for Me,

and Me saved me for him.

My Avalon

 
Cotton grass and dandelion clouds

in a place where itā€™s autumn all the time there.

Flowers made of amber honey

glow under the twilight sky.

Stars whisper stories to us

and the sirens sing along;

to make a perfect lullaby

just for My Love and I.

 

Running from my monsters in this world

and the sunlight of another countless day.

Maybe i can sleep it all away til he comes home.

Iā€™ll create a world inside my head.

Maybe I can dream a place where there are

 

Cotton grass and dandelion clouds

in a place where itā€™s autumn all the time there.

Flowers made of amber honey

glow under the twilight sky.

Stars whisper stories to us

and the sirens sing along;

to make a perfect lullaby

just for My Love and I.

Itā€™s perfect,

maybe I can stay here

ā€˜til he wakes me from my sleep

to tell me that heā€™s home.

 

Maybe I can take him with me

to my dreamland where there are

Cotton grass and dandelion clouds

in a place where itā€™s autumn all the time there.

Flowers made of amber honey

glow under the twilight sky.

Stars whisper stories to us

and the sirens sing along;

to make a perfect lullaby

just for My Love and I.

 

Just he and I

here in my dreamland

where weā€™ll lay on cotton grass in autumn

under dandelion clouds.

The Frozen Hour

 
When the clock strikes

the first second after midnight,

and all teh worldā€™s asleep,

sometimes time will stop

for a period we call The Frozen Hour.

All the water stops its rushing rythem,

and all teh fireflys will halt in midair like tiny stars.

Then the Small Ones will gather

dressed in their finest spider webs,

to walk along the bank,

to dance along the weaves of the water,

and kiss among the midnight petals along the creek.

We will never hear the tiny flutes

and lyrics of the Siren Songs,

but just remember

on the days you feel you over-slept,

you probably were paused in slumber

for a Faerie Masquerade.

Fighting the stairs

 

I feel myself begin to fall once again;

such a short time after I finally began

to find my way up the stairs I knew were in front of me

though itā€™s still almost completely dark.

I had started up those god-damned stairs

with a broken heart and nothing left to lose.

Heading towards the light

of something that I can not see.

Now I fall back down with what Iā€™ve started gathering again

tumbling from my hands.

Iā€™ve begun to feel around the stairs,

slowly moving down,

gathering the broken shards that I wanted to leave behind.

But I canā€™t stay this broken.

I must be fixed.

I pick up each old sharp peice

and put it in its place.

Now Iā€™m just as broken as I was before;

whatā€™s a girl to do?

I hang my head in agony

then turn it towards the light,

that had gotten dimmer as I fell.

I curse at it for being perfect, whole and new.

I curse at it for being everything I never knew.

When Iā€™m finally done shouting

I grab the first jagged, rocky stair

and look across the room

to the dropoff and utter dark;

somewhat longingly and then blow it off

remembering that thereā€™s a light up at the top.

Running

 
Running

I saw him for the first time

In what felt like a long time.

Wasnā€™t sure it was you

Wasnā€™t sure what to do

Oh what could I do

What could I say

Since youve forgotten me

Forever ago plus one day.

I stopped right in my tracks

 

Hoping youā€™d cone running

Praying youā€™d come running

Begging youā€™d come running

To me.

 

Pleasantries were said

Old activities shared

But yet it wasnā€™t enough

You werenā€™t close enough

So I took off, running.

I dared myself not to turn around

 

Hoping heā€™d come running

Praying heā€™d cone running

Begging heā€™d come

Running after me.

Running running running

Oh running running

After me

oh

running after me.

Last Moments

 
Last Moments

How much longer

must this torture last?

As the air pushes from between closed lips,

can only exit but so fast.

echoing the beating

of a heart so slow,

how much longer

we could never know.

Holding on for something

that we donā€™t know.

everyoneā€™s here;

Just let go.

Just a whisper

 
Just A Whisper

Everything was once a whisper;

a thought,

a dare.

Nothing was sure.

Not too strong.

But still, there it was.

I had a dream I met you once.

Many years ago I saw your face.

But it was only a whisper of what was to come.

It was a tease.

A maybe.

A chance.

Now, I know though.

Nothingā€™s for sure.

Possibilities are never that strong.

Not set in stone.

Not perfect.

An outline.

Just a whisper though,

thatā€™s all it takes

For something to begin.

Itā€™s the thought that counts.

And even JUST a whisper,

well, it still exists;

even if you didnā€™t hear itā€¦. right?

Horrid Story line

 
Horrid Story - Line

The minute hand hasnā€™t moved in hours

And I keep thinking of them :

The one I want and the one I love

And the self I could condemn.

 

I see them in my dreams at night.

One is selfless and tender love

And the other alternately

feeds love and fight.

 

OHow is one to bear the opposites?

Thereā€™s so much history and time,

No documents have had sign.

I belong to not one but both.

 

I wish heathenly that both be mine.

For Sake
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