Writes from the heart

Sparkled tears dry on those closed lashes
Blink. blink.
Be strong.
Two years is too long.
Be the rock.
Remember, there are others who need her more.
You are needed right now.
The rock? Or the stone in the shoe?
And as much as you wish she were here
Someone else needs you to be here in her place.
Or at least try to be.


Some shoes are just too big to fill,
But sometimes all you can do
is try and make the owners proud.


x

I found this one when I was looking through some of my older stuff =) I quite like it so I thought I'd post it, reminds me a bit of a character in a book I'm reading at the moment =D

Its not the time passing
That I catch with my eye as i’m half focused
Half here
Half taken
I do not hear anything though
I know when something is...
Not paranoid, just aware.
I worry in a sense if seen, but confident enough
to know he wouldn’t let anything happen.
I think.
But it’s losing control,

No

It's the adrenaline I fear the most

Where and when and how and why
Trapped in the same old circle
of reliving and remembering
and feeling how I did.

And the dusts of time keep on falling
and everything around me is changing
but I still can't see far enough in the past
to understand why im stuck in the sand

I can't help but stay here
and though I know it's not good for my health
I don't want to change from what I was
what I am, though you already are too far gone

And the dusts of time keep on falling
and everything around me is changing
but I still can't see far enough in the past
to understand why im stuck in the sand

Fall, again and pick yourself up,
again, before the fall you forsee,
but if it reminds you that you still feel,
is it really that bad? If you still have a heart.

And the dusts of time keep on falling
and everything around me is changing
but I still can't see far enough in the past
to understand why im stuck in the sand

Maybe I just need to sink into the sand to make it back up again

Heaven kids us in our infancy
Pulls at those heartstrings
Breaks the boundaries
Sparks those tears
Those cries for help

I am here

I fold with care
and cut to the line
(don't cross it, don't break it)
Should I ask? Or use my common sense?
Play it safe
(Cause who knows what could happen)
Colours run
into nothing, pretty but tainted
and as it grows,
takes shape and knows where
and when
it wants to be
who's to stop it?
(and you forget the other half,
you forget there is a center to
every petal)
and those yellow paper roses
just don't want to stick anymore.
So why did the red?
Which is to work?
(You should have seen it coming

I'm Sorry

).

OK, I'm fed up of drama drama drama...so I thought I'd post up some completely irrelevant poetry today, it's up to him now, nothing more I can do, no amount of poetry can change that...

Also I haven't really written much recently, I've been attempting song writing...(key word attempt) so the poems have come a bit of a slow down, but they'll be back soon haha =]

Anyways, seen as it Remembrance Sunday this week here's 'Where Poppies Grow'

Bombs have blown
To pieces and scattered
Across the ground
As if nothing mattered
Where poppies grow.

Hearts have been broken
And tears have been shed
Memories of war forgotten
From the heroes now dead
Where poppies grow.

Lives have been taken
For a cause thought to be right
Now as each name is recalled
We remember their darkened fight
Where poppies grow.

Flags are raised
To show our respect
For the soldiers who have fallen
Simply so they could protect
Where poppies grow.

Bright poppies now bloom
Pride clear and well known
Red petals for red soldiers
Your poppies have grown.



x

It's been a while

I finally have the chance to beat,
to move, to fly.
I see and I have the power
to smile, to form butterflies.
It's been so long
since I last stretched.
Not that I'm counting but
the dark, loveless nights seemed countless
and now I can feel again
It feels strange
and unused muscle
shrunken
but the potential for so much
love
brings happiness which steals the lows
and makes them soar again
over each cloud, taking in
every detail of every second
so every sight, every touch
is remembered and locked
up into a box with reeling rainbows of ribbon.
So beautiful.
So...
So...
So.

I slot in where-ever is left once everyone has found their place.

No disturbances.

No hassle.

No problem.

Do I make things complete or just complex?- Who knows?

But am I the piece that has gone missing?

Maybe. I'd like to thinks so.

I'm the piece that works around everyone's lives.

To try and make things flow better...

For everyone else but me.

They matter more so what is a moment of pain,

Or frustration

When everyone else is happy?

But what if I'm growing tired of it all?

What if I'd like-for a change-

For things to work without me drawing the short straw.

But i feel bad, I'm an inconvenience,

Sorry.

So sorry.

Story of my freaking life...