Tag Archives: poet

Broken

I love you,

but not like that.

I’m a good liar,

you see –

 

My morning routine consists

of putting on a mask,

blending together so that

the end is the beginning.

 

I love you,

but not like that.

I’m a good liar,

you see –

 

I speak in a different tongue

when I see your eyes,

it leaves a foreign taste,

but I always get a response.

 

I love you,

but not like that.

I’m a good liar,

you see –

 

When our fingers brush

goosebumps spread,

I’m rigid like a statue,

nerve endings on pause.

 

I love you,

but not like that.

I’m a good liar,

you see –

 

I write this poem

with a broken pen,

truth leaks out the top,

no control over the ink.

 

I love you,

but not like that.

I’m a good liar,

you see?

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Deep Down

You

have

my heart.

 

I

just need

your name.

 

Whisper

it in

my ear,

 

so

my heart

can sing.

 

Write

it in

my palm,

 

So

you touch

my soul.

 

You

have

a home,

 

in

my

imagination,

 

give

me

a key,

 

to

allow

my eyes,

 

the

ability

to decieve,

 

my

mind

that won’t,

 

believe

you

would be,

 

here

for

me.

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A New Kind of Drug

Epiphanies are rare,

but when they come

they are a rush

of fresh fall air.

 

Internally grateful,

it flows through my body,

relieving the knots

of worry and doubt.

 

A drug that I need daily,

a single thought,

the right thought,

the key to functionality.

 

How do I keep them flowing?

Keep my blood rushing?

How do I keep from looking down?

So, I can ride this for eternity.

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Unmotivated Heart

It’s going to be dark.

I apologize.

It’s where my mind has been

For the past while.

I watched from 30,000 ft.

Cities were twinkling,

Prettier than the stars,

Blacker than a new moon.

The edges of the earth

Were smoldering,

A smoky black blending crimson.

A sight different from routine.

The sunset was long over,

But the sun was hanging on,

Stubborn and unrelenting

Not letting the day get away.

Some would say it was divine,

Beautiful or bewitching,

But I saw a war,

Of life trying to fight on.

Twinkling towns unconcerned,

Of the fire raging above them,

Only perceptible to those above,

Or those who pay attention.

The day was not ready to sleep,

To give up its purpose of the light,

Too much baggage left behind,

An undying noose that won’t fray.

It hung on longer that night,

Using its rays to burn into the horizon,

Until it was well on the other side,

Fading just before dawn.

Could my heart create colors like the sun?

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20 years later…

My heart still searches.

Nothing I write comes out right,

When I try writing about you.

You are my biggest secret, its true.

I locked you away, guarded by a knight.

My heart still searches.

I pretend memories don’t exist.

Left in the desert of my mind.

I think its easier to be blind.

It’s not safe, even for a quick tryst.

My heart still searches.

It took me 15 years to hear a story.

Knowing nothing about you was safer.

Using the future as an eraser.

You deserved more, deserved glory.

My heart still searches.

For I remember all that is possible.

The moments right before I was told,

Your watch on mom’s arm, old & gold,

Kneeling by the casket, the impossible.

My heart still searches.

You’re the secret I hold dear, for fear,

If I say too much, I won’t be able to recall,

That I’m the girl that jumped at your call,

From the swing, to greet you with cheer.

My heart still searches for your voice in my ear.

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I’m here for now….

I float above the skies,

where I am untouchable.

I am finally somewhere

you have to look up to me.

You can’t escape my tears.

The more I need,

the bigger that they become,

so that you feel like drowning.

The pain comes in low rumbles,

clouding your sight of all light.

until only my image can appear,

a constant reminder.

The worst is yet to come.

When you can do nothing

but look until your eyes hurt,

flowers will grow in spite of

the wallowing bird songs.

A sign that I am all gone

except for the mark that

I finally made on your heart.

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Place for Rent.

You.

My conundrum.

Quandary.

Riddle.

Poser.

Need to get a new hangout,

In another stellar mind.

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I grew up in an old world.

I grew up in the old days

That only exists in stories

Of walks in icy cold tundra

Miles and miles to school.

 

Except my icy cold tundra was

The Sunshine State golden glow

With heat that soaks your skin

And rain that’s an afternoon feature.

 

I grew up on a long street

That wasn’t run by adults

No homeowners association

No debates about grass heights

 

Instead, five curious minds

Whose eyes saw everything

The gray house on the corner

To the giant flower magnolias.

 

They were the kings and queens.

The explorers, the architects

And the landscapers of their world.

They were the creators.

 

Roaming free, sun up to sun down.

No part left untouched

Only to stop to lay under the trees

To watch the sun play with the leaves.

 

Their world wasn’t crowded

With impossibilities and necessities

Their world survived on old magic

Eyes that imagine and believe

 

From the first peek out the window

Checking if life had opened its eyes

Sunlight dipping through the blinds

Showing them the escape from darkness

 

From season to season the stories changed

But the canvas grew up with them

Accommodating the stretches and pulls

Of where their laughs would take them.

 

Often times it led their world to stretch

So far into their dreams giving comfort

As their adventures came alive

In front of their eyes like a movie screen

 

Always questioning and pushing

The boundaries of what’s beyond

Reaching out with their hands

Easing the grip on their childhood.

 

I grew up on this street.

There is a girl with blonde curls

Peeking out from behind a tree

Eyes twinkle with a secret.

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Happy Writing Poets!

Threw this together for National Poetry Day. In its raw state but I think its appropriate. Happy Writing Poets!!

The first time

the feeling is alien

yet trusting

it stews for days

determining a plan

an attack

of feelings and truth

crawling up inside

fighting to be expressed

and then…

a simple act

a sharpened pencil

blank piece of paper

releases an abundance

of phrases so eloquent

a feeling of awe

strikes you so perfectly

it all comes together

all thats left is a

smile.

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Lost and Found

It is all said and done
Silence sitting restless
Broken tears unnerving
I sit in total patience
Waiting—
For my heart to close
The pain to be lost
In a mountain of treasures
With the last stitch made
I can move
Silence dancing around me
Anticipation with the audible rumble
Building within the rubble of my life
Patience turned into determination
SCREAM—
Chaos thrown into the silence
As the world says welcome back.
~HonestLynne

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