l’amour Poem

roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Creative juices aren't flowing into my brain.
To create that electrical spark.
That makes the light bulb go blink.

Should the verses rhythm.
This poem is not sublime.
What the heck am I doing?
All I know is that roses are red.
And violets are indeed blue.
--
Just a poem I wrote for a school project that I thought was good and funny enough to share with the rest of toi guys. I hope toi somewhat enjoyed it. Thanks for lire regardless, and have a delightful, magical day. Cheers yo.

One small crack, just one comment
It only took one day
To convince her life had a price
A cost she couldn't pay
Happiness was priced too high
Hopes dashed, she turned away

Esteem it took years to build
Torn down in one day
Years later, she still believes
What caused her mind to fray
She thinks she is not enough
And so she wastes away

Finally someone notices
Her life changes that day
Someone montrer that they care
Three words is all they say
Simple words she needs to hear
They ask, "Are toi okay?"



~an original poem par me~

~check out me and plus of my poésie and écriture at quotev.com/sliverofstarlight~

On this lonely road
I let my thoughts to fly
with this calm wind
and my warm tears drip fast,
Too fast as my cœur, coeur is yet calm...


This burden I have carried
For so long,
Now all I need is to be free,
To see sunny days with whole
its brightness,
Its calmness.


The path is still muddy
And wind still blows,
Playing this symphony for the
Lame's ones,
For the ones whose voices no one hears.


I was born to be the queen
Of sorrow,
To hate the ones who are like me,
To lament infinitely
With this loneliness and questions
That grieve my tormented soul.


My days,
Filled with the same amer past
Enter deep into my mind,
Screaming and sobbing
In this dark room inside my brain
Where only God sees
the storm and mud and weeds of
My darkened thoughts.


I fear to travel there,
Inside my darkness and woe,
I fear to go back there,
I'd rather find some shell to
Run away,
Run away from myself.

I'm the toughest pastry maker who has ever baked a cake.
My impressive little pastries are impossible to break.
Yes, my biscuits, cookies and my cupcakes will defeat the strongest jaws,
while my muffins are impervious to power drills and saws.

toi have never seen a danish ou a donut quite so strong
and I bake the fiercest fruitcake that has ever come along.
toi can chew on them till doomsday, toi can chew till kingdom come,
but you'll never get a nibble, not a solitary crumb.

toi can whack them with a hammer, toi can hit them with a stick.
toi can stab them with a dagger, toi can beat them with a brick.
toi can drop them from an airplane, toi can blast them with a bomb
but my pastries will exhibit only peacefulness and calm.

I expect you'll want to test them. I encourage toi to try,
but you'll never make a mark on them and here's the reason why:
I do something with my recipes no other bakers do;
when the cookbook calls for "milk" ou "water," I use Crazy Glue.

Peter passed a note today.
He gave the note to Anna.
She opened it and read it,
then she passed it on to Hannah.

The note made Hannah giggle
so she handed it to Cody,
who read it with a smile before
he slid the note to Brody.

Then Brody read the contents
and he gave it to Luann,
who opened it and chuckled
and directed it to Dan.

He read it with a snicker,
then he tossed the note to Jon
who couldn't help but chortle
as he passed it on to Sean.

The teacher heard us laughing
and she saw what Sean was holding.
She walked across the room
and took the note he was unfolding.

We thought we'd get in trouble,
but she gave it back to Sean
and smiled because it read,
"The teacher's awesome. Pass it on."

If only they could come to see,
ou they could realize.
That all the mixed-up crazy things
Are why she hides her eyes.
She's holding back the sadness,
But her face gives her away.
She takes no time to express it
Because she doesn't want to say.
Her cœur, coeur sinks like the setting sun,
Sadness has pushed her down.
The ones that know her all believe
That she can turn around.
But none of them can understand
Just what goes on inside.
Rain and tears and storms thrash on;
It's why she always cries.
She hurts too much to look beyond
The sadness in her mind.
So one can only hope for her,
That happiness she will find.
If only they could come to see,
ou they could realize.
All these things they're looking past;
They're why she hides her eyes.

A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM

Take this Kiss upon the brow !
And, in parting from toi now,
Thus much let me avow
toi are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream,
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, ou in a day,
In a vision, ou in none,
Is it therefore the less gone ?
All that we see ou seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few ! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep while I weep!
O God ! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp ?
O God ! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave ?
Is all that we see ou seem
But a dream within a dream ?

One of my favori poems of all time & perhaps someone would like to add plus Byron ou make commentaries...

She Walks in Beauty 1814

"She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy jour denies.

One shade the more, one rayon, ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
ou softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A cœur, coeur whose l’amour is innocent!"