Inside MadHatter's Hat: Poetry

Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Sunday, August 14, 2016

Original Poetry: Life in Letters

Here is my life in letters

In the dears, and sweethearts and see-you-soons.

Here is my life in words

In descriptions of days that never came;

Wishes that just never came true

This is my life in letters

In the darlings, the I-love-yous and goodbyes

This is my life in words

In sentences that were never spoken out loud

Hidden between pages of books never read.

Original Poetry: Mortal

You have seen the world with weary eyes

Have stepped upon the wonders of the world, spread at your feet

Have tasted such feasts, experienced such pleasure, have indulged your senses--

But have you ever dreamt a dream such as mine?

Lived a life such as mine?

Loved a love such as mine?

I am mortal.

I have dreamt dreams of mortal men, lived a life of mortal men, loved a love of mortal men.

Where every touch of joy carries the sting of sadness

Every press of courage lies a bombardment of fear

every second passing has the weight of centuries

Where living shuffles you closer to death

I am mortal. I am dying. I am strong.

Am compiling my old poems here. I haven't written in a while.

Something I wrote inspired by three things: An umbrella, a puddle of water and a streetlight. Written under two minutes.

"Are you in love with me yet?"

It was a joke, a tease, a game

we play it often, we play it well

I question, I accuse, I jeer

You deny, you laugh, you roll your eyes

We part and meet again

A glittering smile, a passing glance and it all starts again

"Are you in love with me yet?

You smile and shake your head. "Are you in love with me yet?"

Seasons change and friends come and go

And still we meet again.

An embrace, a kiss, a whisper. "Are you in love with me yet?

A shrug, a peculiar look, an impish smile. "Are you in love with me yet?"

Day turns to night, so quickly it seems

We pass each other down the street, I stop. "Are you in love with me yet?"

Dark eyes open, closes then opens again. "Are you in love with me yet?"

Lights flicker on, the moon rises in the night sky.

Three heartbeats later.

"Yes."

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Derrick Brown-A Finger, Two Dots, then Me

How from this, becomes this.

Then this.

How all three makes me want to cry.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Original Poetry: Sweetheart

We have our moments, we have our ways

We have our secret smiles, our quiet looks.

But still, I need to remind you—

Sweetheart,

I am not her, she is not me

You are not him, and he is not you

and this—this is not us

Sweetheart,

There is no we

And this—this will never be

This is nothing but a fantasy

Of two empty hearts

Coming together in a lonely dream.

a/n: This is something I wrote while humming a vague melody. this was the words that played with the melody. The lyrics I guess. Wrote it under 2 minutes.

Original Poetry: Dance of Swords

And I see you dance; loose hair and flared skirts,

Quick feet and even quicker smile.

On the wings of shadows and light we treat words like swords—

And we swing, we cut, we bleed.

Original Poetry: Mortal

You have seen the world with weary eyes

Have stepped upon the wonders of the world, spread at your feet

Have tasted such feasts, experienced such pleasure, have indulged your senses—

But have you ever dreamt a dream such as mine?

Lived a life such as mine?

Loved a love such as mine?

I am mortal.

I have dreamt dreams of a mortal man, lived a life of a mortal man, loved the love of a mortal man.

Where every touch of joy carries the sting of sadness

Every press of courage lies a bombardment of fear

Every second passing has the weight of centuries

Where every movement shuffles you closer to death

I am mortal. I am dying. I am strong.

Original Poetry: Broken

I am broken

Can’t you see; the cracks and debris that falls on your feet?

Will you be kind enough to pick up the pieces?

Gentle enough to put me all together?

Strong enough to let me fend on my own?

Patient enough to wait until I am whole?

Original Poetry: Tight

There are wolves at the door, dear heart, wolves at the door

Close the door, close the door.

Tight.

There are shadows in the light, dear heart, shadows in the light.

Close the window, close the window.

Tight.

There are monsters under the bed, dear heart, monsters under the bed.

Close your eyes, close your eyes.

Tight.

There are tricksters in the world, dear heart, tricksters in the world

Close your heart, close your heart.

Tight.

Original Poetry: Bleeding Heart

“So I wrap a tourniquet around your bleeding heart;

the very thing that’s keeping us apart

But rather than stop the bleeding,

All I did, was keep it from beating”

I bet we all know of that one person, who loves their pain so much, who hugs their pain tightly against their chest, using it like a shield. Who wallows in it and sits uncaring of the world outside of themselves.