* * *
Is there ever really a good enough
or does it just sum up
what we're feeling
cause we're just dreaming
And no one knows what
being content really means
Contemplative poems
Contemplative poems — a collection of the best works on PoemShip.
* * *
I guess we all die sometime
some of us just a little earlier
than the rest.
Self doubt
I am a mess of good genetics;
Caught up in a bad situation.
The Moon
Once I wanted to take the moon out of the the sky and keep it,
Because I thought it was pretty.
I reached up to grab it,
But it was to far away.
I tried and I tried,
But nothing seemed to work.
Then one day I realised,
That you don't need to hold something to find its true beauty.
March 8, 2016
She looked back
Going through her whole life until now
And she found out why songs never sounded the same
Why orchids were her favorite
Why she loved to dance
Why singing made her smile
And why just stopping to breathe helped her recap
Decisions make us even if we don't see it
January 25th, 2016
I guess our problems in life are a little like rainstorms:
You start with a drizzle
Which doesn't seem too bad
And is bearable
Then the storm hits
And you feel like there will never be a way out
But you have to remember,
Every rainstorm ends
I guess I'm just trying to figure out if I'm in a rainstorm
Or simply headed for an eye of a hurricane
Sleep.
As the world is engulfed in darkness
as the moon comes out to play
as the sun's fire fades
as the stars illuminate the world
as the predators awaken
as the prey falls asleep
as I gaze outside
as the fragile Earth disappears.
Memory Loss.
Moments of inspiration
Laid forgotten, barren with dying sin
Inspiration opening reality,
Reality staring into possibility
possibility morphed into dreams,
Dreams barren, forgotten,
Forgotten moments of inspiration.
Art
every pain in life is art
i just have the wrong brushes
or a shaky hand
gave you my all
How niave must one be to give their all to someone who's barley worthy.
But who am I to talk?
Since that niave someone was once me.
Rustling
Sometimes mild and sometimes noisy is my mind, like the wind.
And my thoughts, like those rustling leaves, blown away far and near.
Being Silent
I was told to be silent but my mind isn't quiet yet.
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
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