“if it doesn’t come bursting out of youin spite of everything,don’t do it.unless it comes unasked out of yourheart and your mind and your mouthand your gut,don’t do it.”― Charles Bukowski
Speechless
Dreamless
Bedazzled
Lost in your thoughts
in complete awe of your
demeanor
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searching with my words ~ finding answers in your prose ~ losing both our worlds —© Lize Bard @ Haiku out of Africa
“You, my love, gave me the greatest gift.
You said you loved me.”
Oh, but the thunderous applause of my heart was deafening. At first, I wasn’t sure if I imagined the words that slipped past your lips, or if maybe it was an illusion — a dream so beautiful, I never wanted to wake up. You made me open my eyes for the first time and truly accept what I only thought could be imagined. You, my love, gave me the greatest gift anyone could have given me. You said you loved me.
© Sarah Doughty
And you say you always will.
“You, my love, gave me the greatest gift.
You said you loved me.”
Oh, but the thunderous applause of my heart was deafening. At first, I wasn’t sure if I imagined the words that slipped past your lips, or if maybe it was an illusion — a dream so beautiful, I never wanted to wake up. You made me open my eyes for the first time and truly accept what I only thought could be imagined. You, my love, gave me the greatest gift anyone could have given me. You said you loved me.
© Sarah Doughty
And you say you always will.
First Published in the Nightingale and Sparrow
Silence is neatly tucked
between the layered wings of the soaring eagle
the shifting angle of his wings
holds the distance between
the spoken and the untold
Silence has its own semantics
the lexicon of the unspoken
I can carry the debilitating
pain in my marred soul for eons
before you see the
tears trickling from my eyes
Silence, a deep soliloquy with time
you press ears to the
throbbing heart
else would miss the pain
Silence is neatly tucked
in the palm of a stillborn
dissolved in its muted stench
Silence is the only conversation
for the reticent mind
as the moon brushes across my face
dripping the verses
picked neatly by the time
Silence is a lost art
so sublime.
–Megha
Photo by Christian Søgaard Moen on Unsplash
Please Come Enjoy – Poetry Of The Heart
(image from Pinterest)
She rested her head against the bark of the tree. How many times had she been here before? She traced the hearts on the tree with her fingers, as her own heart was breaking inside of her. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She used to have a heart full of joy when she came to this tree, but things now have changed.
Her chest was tight, was she breathing, for she didn’t feel alive. Her love was gone, and she was left behind.
Oh, the precious memories that were embedded in her heart. Memories of happy days when the sun was shining and they felt as if nothing could stop them. They lied flat on their backs watching the clouds in the azure blue sky. Feeling carefree and imagining what all they could see in the sky and where their dreams would carry them.
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She stood quietly in the falling snow
The beauty and wonder of it thrilled her
When she was a child
She used to dream
Of floating
Through a snowfall
Catching each snowflake
On her tongue
As she floated ever higher
She soon realized
She was above the clouds
She still enjoys that beauty
The wonder of it all
Is still magical
And thrilling to her
She will always believe
In faeries, dragons and unicorns
And the beauty of her dreams
As she remembers catching snowflakes
While wishing on the stars
~The Tennessee Poet~
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The Reluctant Poet 