I have a jar.
A jar of hearts.
The jar of hearts that I collected from my treacherous journey
The jar of hearts that I pick up and let inside of my own
when I lack inspiration. Or motivation.
It has never failed me.
Until one day, I randomly pulled
And your heart began to sing the tales
of me, through you. Of us.
And I wondered if keeping your heart with me
was good for mine because
my heart begins breaking.
Not very happy with the art and the poem. But eh. It will have to do.
I’m sitting still and straight but I feel tilted.
There’s a storm brewing in my head,
my very own flavour,
with lots of brine and rain to compensate each other,
with a dash of seaweed; just a pinch of death.
and maybe a little Hell;
definitely no fear. No sadness.
Only wistfulness, just a touch.
And I shall feel all right.
I really like how my drawing came out, but I’m not so sure about the poem itself.
the wind blows rippling
the silent water of the
lake and I can breathe.
You are not here, but
I feel you around me. you
are the soft grass, the
clouds that bring shade, the tree that protects
protects, the water that lives
the sun that shines just
like your eyes when they looked at
me. With full of love.
A mix of Haiku and Tanka. I had to come back to writing love poems because I couldn’t think of anything else. I also bought some fab pens which I totally love. I’m quite happy with the art work, but I know it can get better. One day soon.
“Hey! Be yourself!
You deserve to be happy!
But, can I make a small suggestion?
You know who you were,
the other day?
Please be that ‘you’!”
I am sick.
I am tired.
Who are these people,
telling me who to be and who not to be,
when they’ve only seen a sliver
of who I really am?
They want me to be the real me?
They want me to be true to myself?
Well, I hope they’re prepared to run because
they have helped me unleash the beast
I hate this society. I hate that the people that I really care about fall into this category. I hate that there is so little open-mindedness. I hate it, but I swallow it all up because if the majority of the people around you are like that, what can I do?
I suppose there are changes that I would love to make in this drawing, but I’m really happy with it.
Fresh filter coffee, first thing early in the day.
Push the curtains for the early light to stream in.
Push a random CD in; press play.
Stare at my fish tank, marvel at that tiny fin.
Pick up a book from the shelf
like I have nowhere to be
because I see myself in
my home; see?
Just another reason why we need
to buy a new book, indeed
today, tomorrow, every day.
Let’s head to the bookstore,
shall we? Yay!
I tried to rhyme. Really. I did.
And I’m actually quite please with my drawing. I wish I’d have made the grills a little (lot) thinner, and then planned it a bit more. Maybe I will do it again another day.
You hold up the crystal to the sunlight
but you see no rainbows.
“Why can’t I see rainbows?” You ask grandpa.
He laughs lightly, taking the stone from my hand.
“This is pure crystal, unpolished.
You can’t see the light because
there is unwanted dirt and soil on it.
If you clean it,
polish it with hard substances,
you can see it!
Like your mamma’s diamond earrings!”
“I understand!” You say.
I wonder if one day, you will understand
what Pappa was trying to say.
Hardships will hurt you, baby,
but I’m sure, they will make you
into the shiniest human being
ever walked on the planet.
A little father-daughter sentiment, I suppose.
I painted my very first crystal! Not perfect, but practice is definitely required, but I’m quite happy with it. I enjoyed the experience!
Sweet whispers through the chilly air
two pairs of feet
dangling off the edge
is my favourite way to spend time with
But now that you
I sit there,
on the same rooftop,
one bare foot dangling off the edge
watching life go by
at midnight in
the silence of the chilly air.
I promised myself I wouldn’t go back to writing sappy romantic poems, but oh well.
The art accompanying isn’t good at all, but well, I am still learning.