Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
Pain What is pain? Pain is only feeling the rain On a sunny day Pain is being alone in a crowded room Pain is not having them around
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
This roller coaster Took me high Enough to see The curve of the earth. I touched the stars Kissed the moon And high- fived
By Colleen Walters3 years ago in Poets
Inspiration can come from anywhere But the voice always comes Sometimes it’s a roar Sometimes it’s a hum Sometimes it comes when I’m too busy with life to write
Before I met you. I was a red flower, blooming and dancing in the sun, I was always happy and having fun; I had hopes, dreams and I enjoyed living,
By Carol Ann Townend3 years ago in Poets
E ngagement, and I smother you C loaking, though this is not my intent L oving you should be easy, but my personality is too much
By Karen Cave3 years ago in Poets
why do you always have to put me down I tell you my dreams, my hopes and you don’t care All that I am Everything I am , it’s worthless to you
By Aubrey james3 years ago in Poets
Green twilight. _____By Aranna Hasan Delwar. Young leaves are green in color, native The dusky glow is tied around the embankment,
By Aranna Hasan Delwar 3 years ago in Poets
Ah, love, a topic so divine, Where hearts entwine, and souls align. A feeling that's pure, a flame that's ablaze, Guiding us through life's intricate maze.
By Aayan Muhammad3 years ago in Poets
She always comes to me at the most unexpected times. Typically at 6:30 p.m. when I return from work. She does my household tasks.
By Nelo3 years ago in Poets
Take a long-distance drive. You'll be driving far away. To an unusual spot. Where you will not receive a signal. Make sure you have no prior knowledge of the place.
Everything ends, you Can’t Live forever Inconceivable demands Pixelated endeavors. We Should not change our plans Even out our behaviors and flex moments held in our hands
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden3 years ago in Poets
The first time I saw her, everything in my head went quiet. All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images, just disappeared.
By Grateful Mafiana3 years ago in Poets
