Eight Minutes--*

I spent eight minutes writing
Your name
In cursive
Till my pen bled
And the page began to
Dampen with tears
The edges turned black and curled over
With the burn of
Each memory
Lost
I spent eight minutes writing
Your name
In cursive
Cramping my wrists
With each stroke
Your name is beautiful
In cursive
In print
In general.
Signing each line with
A poetic
Flame
Your name was carried
With a scent of summer
And the page blossomed
With
Daisies and roses
I spent eight minutes writing
Your name
In cursive
Before I realized
I had begun writing mine.

damn.

--tianam0nique.

The Rain Got Me Thinkin--*

Penny For Your Thoughts--*

"I love words. Words are the whores of everything beautiful"-- Dustin Stonecipher.

man he's so dope. and his name is sooo cool!! =]

--Rainy day today... and I got mad inspiration from it and other sources as well.

Enjoy.

----------------------------------------

These dark clouds hang low on damp streets,
Reminding me of how insignificant my existence really is

And I begin to miss

Everything

The breeze feels “beautiful” and I feel as though I am not worthy

To be standing in the essence of its grace,

Blocking a space that it could effortlessly fill,

Interrupting a symphony sung my nature’s choir.

I can’t tell the difference between the rain and tears anymore.

The salt burns as it hits my moist skin silently,

Giving me an electric shock of reality

I miss my youth.

Standing in the middle of the street,

My arms held down on both my sides,

Hands clenched in fists,

Eye’s closed tight and,

My tongue outstretched,

Begging for a taste of inspiration

Somehow the rain misses my tongue,

Catching onto my cheeks,

Creating pathways down my neck

-Eyes kept closed

My mind wonders back to

Six years old.

When the rain was just an excuse to run around

In soaked clothes, waiting for rainbows and

Expecting pots of gold to be hidden behind,

Willow trees

Laughter falling among sidewalks, where our brilliant

Chalk artworks are washed away,

Painting new masterpieces

The simplicity of being six years old felt so good.

-Eyes open.

I am caught in a web of r e a l i t y, forced down

By the heavy weight of raindrops caressing my shoulders

I cannot tell the difference anymore and when I look down,

I don’t know if I am standing in a puddle of rain,

Or a puddle of tears,

And in the distance I hear your name echo

In a faint thunder.

--tianamonique*

ONE ART--*

I swear.. this poem cures every bad emotion.
Guilt.
Sadness.
Anger.
Despise.
Jealousy.
Disappointment.
Fear.

Read this.. and I promise.. it will raise your spirts. Its my 2nd fav poem. I shall post my fav one someday, when it applies. But I went to read this one today, and it made me smile.

enjoy.
-----------------------------------------------------
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
----------------------------------------------

*sigh*
life is beautiful.
enjoy it. love it. live it.

WHY DO WE LOVE LOVE?--*

-Our relations
Revolved
Around temptations
So when there was no patience
Involved
The equation was left
Unsolved.-


*tianamonique.