I used to think I wasn't a writer, I still don't, but words are words and sometimes I can't help but let them flow...
Some are a lil sweet, Some are a lil spicy but it's MY way of putting it on "paper"...
♥ I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better I do better. ~Maya Angelou ♥
So hard to keep up with reading all the poetry and stories when I don’t sign on for a few! This will take a while…lol
I wrote a ten-page poem…
directly from
the chasms of my chest
and corked it
inside a black glass bottle
with a raven crest.
I admired the ebony hue
of the decanter
so that she
who lifts it from sand
will be staggered
when a gut feeling
runs down her spine,
her intuition
compelling her to peek…
Joy’s note: Depth and intensity. His words never disappoint.
Sometimes a man has to suffer,
to realize the truth,
lose everything that he knows,
just to find himself,
once again.
Find a love,
lose a love,
thinks he knows,
what he wants,
just lose himself again.
In…
That evening,
lustfully I gripped
and lost who I was inside you.
Our bodies, mutual, cadenced
to the concert of my mind’s elation.
I guided you,
as you devoured and complied.
The ambulations, unfaltering,
yet were sensually tailored
to a smoother ride.
My thoughts, through you,
they undulated
…
If only…
If you only knew what you meant to me
you’d know I couldn’t stop the rain
from washing away the blame
that only you could explain
- xsimplifyingmymindx May 2012
If poetry was a person, it would be naked. Because words speak too loudly, whether they are delicate or raw. Either way, you see them crying or smiling — tempting you to touch and feel exactly what they show you. The best thing about their body would be how much they allow themselves to show you. If they show too little, you want more; but if they show too much, you may perhaps make love.
Poetry could be as nude as you want it to be. The question I always ask myself is “how naked should I be today?”
Once he loved, so twisted and bad,
It took everything he ever had
Not to grab her,
Wrap his arms around her waist
Throw her up against the wall,
Show her what he’s got in place
Little did he know,
That’s exactly what would make her heart race
With every step he took,
Blinded by the sweet…
Hate that I feel like it takes me forever to finish pieces sometimes…I never considered myself a writer and I still definitely don’t. But when I started writing and was told, wow that was good…it gave me the confidence to continue. I may not have the most extensive vocabulary and I may not write in the most eloquent way as some of my followers and those I follow do but it’s mine. It’s MY way of putting it all on “paper” and it feels great! :) I can say this though, I learn a lot from my followers and those I follow and you all inspire me to strive to be a better writer. I write from my heart and am honored by all who follow me!
Shattered, Pieces of Me
And so it has been written,
my world,
so hard it has bitten,
to myself I will keep curled
and into the darkness,
fully I will be submerged
Excruciating rise in fear
rushing wildly like an electrical current
ready to instill a shock so rare
into what was once whole and vibrant
but now a shell, absent, vacant as I glare
Into the mirror feeling lifeless, gasping for air
knowing this burden, heavy to bare
will be forever a weight carried with no room for error
that once fleeting moment, now a glimpse of despair
How can I be blissful , when the future appears so grim
how do I get through this, fear and negativity filled to the brim
shattered across the floor, all hopes for more
pieces of me scattered like a jigsaw
will I ever arise to renew and restore?
-xsimplifyingmymindx May 2012
The Unknown
I stare at the sky
And can’t help but cry
To know that you are high up somewhere
Instead of being home where you can be near
Hard to bear
Don’t think I have released my full tears
Not yet
Wonder why, that I don’t know
- xsimplifyingmymindx May 2012 (photo taken by me on the beach with #instagram)
