Could Be ( A Poem)

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on One Comment

poetry
This could be amazing;
ride upon unicorns
over sparkling rainbows
while bards play magical melodies
and wild nymphs dance on trees
amazing.
Others may spring into light
out of sheer joy.
This could bring delightful dancing doggies
or curiously cute cats,
wonders upon wonders could be brought.

On the other hand
if you flip the tape,
reverse my hopes,
show my fears.

This could be terrible,
rotted death could ooze out its orifices
like black tar filled humiliation
and the sulfur smell of dying dreams
those that were crushed by failure,
which would cause a dank cave
to become a bare home for my soul
with only swollen sadness
to guide my lonely days.

There is a burning flame
a flickering fire inside
that holds to the unicorn
almost seeing the sparkling rainbow
and knows
even if dying dreams are crushed by failure
new one will arise
out of the dream pulp
or ashes of failure.
The phoenix that is my heart
will go on
will create.

Let Me Live (A Poem)

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on One Comment

poetry
Let me live among the stars
Allow me to dance a jazz-square
on the moon.
If not teach me
how to trap my dreams in reality.

I will soar high
above my common life
living in the clouds of my desire
then like gravity
you pull be back
to where I sit.

Let me fly.
Let me soar.
Let me live,
even for a moment more.

Instead you pull me
chain me
and remind me of my fears.
Road blocks are made
while obstacles rise
like you forget what’s inside.

My heart will soar
I will fly.
You may be helpful
reminding me of reality
but my dear mind
you know my heart and my soul.
They will win.
I will live among the stars
and dance on the moon,
so please just step aside.

The Reason

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on One Comment

poetry
Oh, there’s the reason.
There it lies,
on the floor of my mind.
It was hidden
behind ideas of romance
under longings of intimacy
neither the reason.
They only hide the truth.

This attachment to a stranger
with the idea of romance
longing for discovery of the deep
was caused by a dream of more,
just like reading my mind
told by another life,
this one also touched my soul.
He spoke my heart,
showed the world my hopes,
and told me I could be
the more of my dreams,
without even knowing my existence.

Makes Me Beautiful

by tiffanymonologue, my creative selfPosted on One Comment

ME 152

What makes me beautiful? What is pleasing to the senses?

You may answer my curves. I do have them and the contrasting peaks and valleys are pleasing to the eyes. Yet, I believe that the strength hidden within the curves of my body are more beautiful than the outward appearance. You see my body hides its toughness and endurance behind my hour-glass form.

Perhaps you believe that my eyes are what makes me beautiful as they sparkle with blue hues. I could agree with you as I do think that my eyes are beautiful. Still what makes them beautiful is the mind and heart that is behind them. It is the life and love that shines out of them.

My smile, lips and mouth are also physical features that could be pretty by themselves. They are brought into beauty by how they are used. My smile shows the happiness that lies within my soul. My lips and mouth are only beautiful because of the encouraging words and unique thoughts that come from within.

You see my mind, soul, and heart are what makes me beautiful in my eyes. My outward appearance in beautiful because it shines what is inside.

Now that I answered what makes me beautiful I ask you, “What makes you beautiful?”

A Pondering Poem

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on One Comment

poetry
Can art go on art;
Laying on it like a lover?
One inspiring the other,
romantically entangled,
but no romance to handle?

Would the art be part of the other art;
like one piece of the whole is the heart?
It would supply life,
living as section,
being whole by being only a part.

This is just a fast little poem, but I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think.

Where I wear my Heart (A Poem)

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve.
It is not on a piece of clothing that I wear.
My heart is easily concealed
and easily shown
on my claves
and on my chest,
painted with pain
each part properly placed.

Here is my family
always a part of me
like a vine of flowers
on which I stand,
first known and first inked.

Here is my claim
that I love God and he me,
the closest to my heart,
the hardest to make part,
shining what I believe
the easiest to see.
Love is at the center of the cross.

Next, let me show you
my smile.
The only one of my inked on hearts
that speaks clearly its words.
‘We’re all mad here,’
it smiles
reminding me, always,
that everyone is crazy
in their own special way,
so keep on smiling
because you are crazy too.

The last for now,
my truest of true heart
blossoms forth
beautifully claiming
each friend then and now
whether at my center
or closer to the start
has created my heart,
either with love or with hate
and will forever be part of me.

You see I do not stand alone.
I stand on my family,
supported by my friends
with God at my heart
and a smile always near by,
so I inked them with pain
as a reminder
and a claim
that no matter what happens
everyone
in my life and in my heart
in at least one way will never part.

Self (A Poem)

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

I lost myself
when I ignored myself,
not trusting my heart
not listening to my soul.
The gentle whispering
saying no was dismissed.
I turned away from myself
and hid myself,
so I lost myself.

Now I will find my heart
when I fly to the light
and can be bathing in support.
Will myself snap back in?
Will I come out of my hiding place,
when I am home
and my soul feels safe?
Will I then find my heart.

Here (A Poem)

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

Here are the chains
I clasp on to my wrists.
Here is the weight
I tie to my heart.
Here is the knife
I slowly stab into my soul.
Here is the prison
I hide myself in.

I cannot unchain myself
from the chains I claimed.
I cannot untie or cute the rope
that holds down the weight on my heart.
I cannot heal the hurt
from the knife in my soul.
I cannot unlock my prison
that I once locked myself in.

So, I give you my chains,
please undo their locks.
I give you the weight,
please cut their ropes.
I give you the knife
please heal my wounds.
And I give you my prison,
please turn it into a home.
Yes, I give you my everything,
please make me whole.

Can I? A Poem

by tiffanyPoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

Can I call you up,
before I take a step back?
Can I hear your voice,
hear you laugh?
Will I then be alright?
Will that then calm my heart
or could this just be the start?
All evidence is pointing
the wrong way.
Life and the world
is saying turn away
but my heart is saying no.
No to taking a step back,
no to giving up before it starts,
no to doing what is smart.
Yet, if I call you
I wouldn’t know what to say.
If I heard your voice
mine would run away
and I would be helpless
if your laugh was brought from far away.

Can I call you up,
before anything really starts?
Can I hear your voice,
some how see your face?
Can I tell you that
your mind seems so brilliant,
your strength seems so foreign
and your smile is so enticing?
Can I share with you
my thoughts and how I see you?
One of which is you as
my ideal which frightens me,
a strange tough work of art
that makes me want to inspect more,
but when I get to close
I must turn away,
because your eyes
they seem so knowing
so frightfully knowing
and prefect.

Can I call you up,
before I know what to say?
Can I hear your voice,
even if you are not on my list?
You are not the person,
that my created wish list created.
You only have the needed traits,
the non-negotiable and absolutely needed parts.
What about the goofiness,
and where is the sense of humor?
How can you seem so great,
but lack the lightness I seek?
How would you fit in my family,
when you are not even a little crazy?
You see you are too sane
to be my ideal.
You are too put together
to have me by your side.
No, see you don’t have the things
I have said I don’t need,
so you must not be the one for me.

Still can I call you up,
before I take a step back?
Can I hear your voice,
hear you laugh?
I want to even though,
all evidence is pointing
the wrong way.
I want to because you seem to be
my ideal which frightens me.

 

I wrote this on November 29, 2014 to help me with a crush. I saved it for a bit of time, so that it would not be so fresh when I published it. Since now I have started the process of getting over this crush I feel like I can now publish this work of art. 

I hope you enjoy.

Crush

by tiffanyrandom ramblingsPosted on No Comments

writing

I do have a crush. It is a crush with the knowledge that the name of it is coming. Like an attack on my heart temporarily wounding my soul.

If there were real dating leagues he would be one higher than mine. If you write him on paper he would be the perfect of husband material. I could ignore the league and rip the paper. Yet, I cannot ignore the melting of my heart when he smiles.

I want to be safe in his arms, nuzzling close to his heart. I want to invite him into my world to see the serious turn silly, which I’ve seen glimpses of. I want to join his world and learn how strength feels.

I would invite him, let him know that my heart skips a beat when I see him; tell him that his smile melts my heart. I would tell him anything and everything, except my insecurities creep up. The voice I promised myself I would ignore shouts that he is on a pedestal to high for me to get. The voice of my insecurities and fear yells that I am not worth his love and I think him so grand that I believe it. I won’t let him decide how he feels. I will wait until I can’t take the waiting, worrying and fame of what ifs, become more than I can bear. One I am convinced one way or the other I will buckle down and confess in a way that does really give him a real choice. That is when my heart will be crushed and my feelings will bleed with salt water from my eyes.

Yes,  my heart will be crushed or maybe there is another way. Perhaps this time will be different. I don’t know how to flirt or read subtle signs, but I can be bold. I can ask for advice.  I can request help in understanding my real options. There is a way to be open in the middle of my fear.

I will try this time and if my heart is crushed than my friends can help me glue it back together. Yes, I will go into battle to fill my heart’s desire with a medical kit if it breaks.