Poems about written



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№ 1208900

How Love Poems Are Written

They always come in spurts,
Intimate thoughts & feelings
Rising to the surface,
Emotions spilling out
Into contrived words
Of true love
And angst
For eternity.
And it hurts.


love,  poems,  written.

Author: Jonny Angel
+0-
Date: 06/04/2020


№ 1206359

Because you know I would've written poetry with you

"If only I could be with you by the sea,
And feel the wind on my skin
And the sand on my feet.
If only I could be with you on that shore,
Helping you light up our bonfire
To keep us warm the whole night.
If only I could be with you now
And let all my troubles fade away
With
The
Sunset
Because you are all that is good
About today,
Or tomorrow,
Or even years hereafter,
For with you I am content,
For with you I am happy. "

~D. C.


poetry,  written.

Author: Dusk
+0-
Date: 03/04/2020

№ 1203052

The Written Word (10w)

Let us express our emotions freely through the written word


word,  written.

Author: The Ten Word Wonder
+0-
Date: 31/03/2020

№ 1202095

Written

Its been written
Its been written in the stars
Its been written in the scars
Its been written in the hearts
Its been written in the souls
Its been written in the minds
Its been written in our eyes
Its been written on our arms
Its been burned
Its been carved
Its been written, and it is permanent


written.

Author: Lu
+0-
Date: 30/03/2020


№ 1200599

Ancient Rhapsody: The Written Truth

Stars above glisten bright.
With each star, a child born,
As it was on my sacred night.

I am a child of the Supreme Being Above.
Representing royalty, as each of us do.

We all start off this way;
Pure, innocent, & true.

My story, I share with others alike.
Every fairy-tale, every word, every truth
Each representing a time of life,
Lessons learned of different virtues.

I live, dream & imagine other worlds of my own,
Learn lessons along the way
Finding alternative paths back home.

We search high and low to find ourselves
Yet the answer always lies within.

If we'd only follow our hearts all along,
We'd always start right back where we begin.

Life's about recognizing the adventure in our own lives.
Following our hearts.
Living our own dreams.
Creating our own magic.

It's things like that, we need to remember.
Things like that, we need to pass on.

Teach our children, remind our elders.
Spread the love, bring peace to man.

Magic is real. It starts with you.
Find yourself however you may.

Allow your whole being to come together as one.
Let yourself show through in words.

Simple writing.
An ancient dialect.


ancient,  rhapsody,  truth,  written.

Author: Gemineyed Gypsy
+0-
Date: 29/03/2020

№ 1199443

Written On A Whim

I shook hands with the monster under my bed tonight, correction: I dragged the monster out by his ankles and I introduced myself and I shook his hand. It was cold, and it felt like you. It was cold, and I wanted to hold it forever, I really did. Maybe it would make up for lost time and all those chances I never took with your fingertips when I had the opportunity. The truth is, I didn't meet a monster. I met a childhood fear and some dust bunnies and a little bit of my own self; the truth is, monsters don't live under your bed because they lay beside you, under your sheets, at times on top of you, maybe they are spilling lies in your mouth and whispering secrets to your teeth, maybe monsters live in your mirrors, calling you names, maybe monsters touch you in your sleep, maybe monsters have big hands that feel like home but then you remember you're a runaway.


written.

Author: bb
+0-
Date: 28/03/2020


№ 1199035

Written

Sometime in the middle of the night
I kneel before God
And try to find Him
But in my words of divine remembrance
I find you in these tangled thoughts
And I pray that you were written
In no other story
Than mine.


written.

Author: LN
+0-
Date: 28/03/2020

№ 1198802

JOHN KEATS' LAST POEM WRITTEN IN ROME ON 21st February 1821* (From The Imagination Of The Writer)

JOHN KEATS' LAST POEM WRITTEN IN ROME ON 21st February 1821*
(From The Imagination Of The Writer)

I am fading, fading fast, Fanny, my love eternal
Far away from you and home
I am dying, the hours I am counting
In what I liken to my grave that is Rome.

All that I seek in this dark loneliness is solace
Moments of respite thinking
Of you and our past exchanges of affection
Dissolved by fate with our hopes descending

Unto the oblivion that had been pre-ordained
Tears are comfortless and what is to come
Is but this pain that seared love must bear unknown
Only self-felt and suffered without end that renders my heart totally numb.

I can't understand and it defies reason
The human heart should bear so much pain
While the tranquil stars hold so steadfast and the song
Of the nightingale drifts so sublimely in every sweet refrain.

Youth once gaily clothed in such beauty but now
Grows spectre-thin and here is but fret and fever
Where the old and infirm hang their heads down
In tearful reminiscences of happy days that have fled forever.

And now, my Fanny, my only love, you alone in this
The saddest schemes of things should share
This my life so wretched, lost, unfulfilled and joy-bereft
I beg forgiveness, only remember my poems—sorrow let us silently bear.


John Keats one of the greatest English romantic poets died on 23rd February 1821 in Rome, aged twenty-five



Author: Dr Peter Lim
+0-
Date: 27/03/2020

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