barely standing

up against a wall
by: the iHope poet

black, black bruises

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bruis-ed secrets
secret questions
questioned hope.

chances broken
breaking patience
patience wilting
wilted rope.

falling softly
soft as feathers
feathered heartache
aching hands.

blemished trust
entrusted keys
the key to panic
panicked plans

 

it's raining it's pouring

it will Rain Away
By: the iHope Poet

She cries for help
But she doesn't want it

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You fall asleep as you call her out

The clock's still turning
The sky's still falling
And she can't remember why she still doubts

No clouds are darker
No water thicker
Than what she's surrounded by today

Yet, here she stands
With empty hope,
Hope that it will rain away

Perfectly Still

Still

By: the iHope Poet

Beautiful secret

Covered in distance

Something and nothing to lean toward.

If I move forward, something will happen,

If I move away, nothing can...

So here I remain, perfectly still,

Balanced between being empty or filled.

Which way do I want to fall?

- But those eyes.

Those eyes in the mirror,

The eyes that hide every secret and fear,

I see them, and know I want something.

Deep down inside, I yearn to lean there,

To fall forward,

To dive into what I can never let go of,

or resurface from.

So here I stand,

between something and nothing.

I can move either way, but my heart seems to care.

And my eyes, as they beg me

to hope, to believe,

to take the chance of . . .

. . .So now, I say yes.

I move "yes", I am "yes".

And now, I see everything.

via

Blind - ish

Can't You See?
a song
By: the iHope Poet

Baby girl, so lost and lonely,
Little child, without a friend.
Can't you see, that what you're wanting,
Isn't there when you pretend?

Oh, can't you see,
Can't you see,
Won't you see?
Can't you see what you wanted to be?
"
Can't you fly through the dark and be free?

Of a world made light and clearer
Shines a daughter, full of care.
But she won't see you if you're fashioned
From a place that isn't there.

via
she's not a Pretender!

Oh, can't you see,
Can't you see,
Won't you see?
Can't you see where you wanted to be?
"
Can't you see where you want to fly free?

There's a girl with worn out fears, she
Used to cry herself to sleep.
It didn't seem like life could change her,
The way she made the angels weep,

But can't you see,
Who she's turned out to be, now?
Oh, can't you see,
How she's learned how to see..
Oh, can't you see,
Can't you see,
Won't you see?
Can't you see that she's finally free...

Baby girl, once lost and lonely,
Now she walks with purpose, bold.
If you ask her what she fears,
She would say she doesn't know -
- cuz fears aren't where she wants to go.

Playing Music

Beauty in the Feeling

By: the iHope Poet

Music 's more than just a quick sensation.

Time turns slowly, silent concentration,

Beauty in the feeling that's left

From notes still ringing...

No one can quite understand in words,

The secret of the heart that plays the chords.

Broken, falling, trailing thoughts of rhythm.

Crying, singing, keys with swift derision.

Perfect execution of

Melody's illusion...

Hearing what you couldn't hear before,

The voices playing music ever more.

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Music is what feelings sound like. 

longing

Meaning of Hunger

By: the iHope Poet

It is a painful thing to hunger

and long for what is there, just out of reach

To feel the leech

of passion eating away my soul

Waiting for a heart to make me whole. 

Is it a fruitless thing, to hunger?

Sometimes it seems I'll never gain that peace.

The peace that comes 

after satisfying an empty appetite. 

Like feasting, after darkness, on an overbearing light. 

I feel an eagerness to hunger

and understand the limits yet to meet.

To anticipate that fullness

which I cannot grasp or hold,

Perhaps, with all the pain, I want to hunger

Just to know. 

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Limits (the Sky)

Need

By: the iHope Poet

Kissing the moon with teardrops

Lingering on my lips.

Reaching the stars,

Glancing the clouds, 

Falling down with the rain.

Twilight is quickly fading;

When did the end begin?

Trying to breathe,

Failing to see,

Life will not wait for me.

Maybe our last tomorrow

Is lost in the setting sun,

so All that I am

and Wanted to be is

Struggling to remain. 

Soon, I'll have understanding.

Now is my time to learn.

but Touching the sky

and Grasping the world

is Not what I truly need. 

Not really what need. 

via

Bring Me Poems: To Do with Fingers

Sticks and Twigs

Rigid, rusty, stubby twig,

You stand as straight as work-worn fingers.

Bring me your durability

To manage the roughest of scenarios.

Fallen Blossom Branches

Withered, tangled fingertips,

Like hope of new life

Having slipped through your grasp;

Bring me the potential you once held

In your blossoms.

I wish to open their secrets

  And see what those fastened buds hide.

Dead Leaves

Small, tattered leaf,

Old and forgotten, I’m sure you must feel.

But left fallen forever, I can see you are not.

So bring me your natural tendencies

To be found again,

And raised back up;

Even to the stricken level 
Of man’s direct line of view

And not only his peripheral vision. 

 Pictures via here.