My midnight muse
escapes
like the moonbeam on my hands.
Hi Everyone,
I recently found my teenage diary of poems and though nostalgic, it was as though I was reading the world through the glasses of another person…familiar yet different…Regardless to say there were pages of emotions on paper, trying to figure out the future and where it would take me haha…I am certain this was not a singular case of the teenage mind, as I know my friends had gone over the same things and so I thought I would pose the question to my readers here:
What would you say to your teenage self?
I would love to see your responses in the comment section!
As for myself, Although I do not have everything figured out yet, I would tell my younger self not to worry as much and to continue to chase dreams…and I would thank her for continuing to write 🙂
Sitting on a hilltop
Early morning breeze pass by
fingers resting on the wet green grass
Eyes watching the sunrise
Slowly, but gently as it pops
into the crimson red sky
The smell of flowers drift to the nose
fresh pure life knocking at the door
Mouth is shut, as if to keep this a secret…
though the lips form a smile
when the ears hear the birds
chirping nearby
Waking up the rest of the world…
into the mystery of nature.
Another poem from my teenage diaries series.
You paint me as perfection
Though you have never seen me before
You think of me as if I were an angel
Who has purity in every pore
You describe me as a piece of art
That is too perfect to be true
You keep that image in your heart
No matter what I say or do…
So now all I do is compete with this image
Stop my real self from shining through
Stop from ruining my borrowed reflection
That has been created by you
This was a poem I had written in my teenage years…haha perhaps you can all sense that in the words…anyway I found my old diary of poetry from that time and will be posting a few more in my ‘teenage diaries’ series. 🙂
Contemplations of the quiet mind…
as it slowly rewinds
the cascading waves
of thoughts
falling in an infinite abyss
of feelings
that drift in your eyes
floating in the skies
of everlasting dreams
drifting with the winds
of dark storms
looming at the edge of the sea
as you fly free
in the pouring rain
of the subdued pain
of the world
floating gently
with the contemplations…
of the quiet mind.