I Got No Talent To Be Heart-Broken

A/N: Okay, so I read all these poems online about being heart-broken, and I figured it would be funny to write a poem about the exact opposite of that. 

Enjoy!

 


I got no talent to be heart-broken,

And I’m told that that is wrong.

But crying my heart out over some guy,

– It simply isn’t done.

 

I wonder if something is wrong with me,

Since it’s so easy to just let go.

While others hold on with all they have,

Still caught in the afterglow.

 

But once I see that something is bad,

It’s quite easy to simply escape.

One realisation is all I need,

And I am gone, going away.

 

For this heart isn’t made for breaking,

And these eyes aren’t meant to cry.

That is why no tears are flowing.

As I here tell you – “Goodbye.”

 


 

PTSD


He’s at home in his bed,

His wife at his side.

But he finds himself in battle,

As he opens his eyes.


The enemy is upon them,

His friends are all dying.

So he fights with all he has,

While his insides are crying.


There! Don’t you see?!

An enemy to his side!

So he raises his gun,

And he shoots the damn guy!


A scream pulls him back,

And he sees what he’s done.

He’s back in his kitchen,

Where he just shot his own son.




A/N: If interested then the following link is to a website where you can make a donation to help soldiers dealing with PTSD:

http://ptsdusa.org/support-u/make-a-donation/

Dandelion Girl

A/N: A sonnet called Dandelion Girl. 


If you were a flower you’d be the dandelion.

It’s not that you’re not beautiful.

It’s not that you’re not wanted.

Nor that I don’t think you unusual.


But you are no feeble rose.

Who needs me to thrive.

If I did not want you, you’d still live.

And if I were to leave, you’d still strive.


You are the dandelion of flowers,

And that’s why I love you.

Your strength, your will to live,

Through concrete you grew.


And I’m wondering, my dandelion girl, if you might love me too.

And we will be two dandelions entwined, the same and yet new.


 

Liberty

A/N: And somehow it’s Saturday, and I haven’t posted by Friday post yet… oops. 

Anyway, I tried to make one of those poems where you circle words on a page of text in order to create a poem (forgot the name for it). The text chosen was one of the pages from my 20-page analysis of Jane Eyre. Enjoy!


Quickly!

Gain liberty!

Delightful, is it not?

Predict the future and change it.

Be careful and sensible.

While simultaneously act.

Seek a new life.

Be the future.


The Rose

A/N: Somehow this originally free verse turned into a sonnet… guess I just looove structure 😄


My favourite flower is the simple rose,

And isn’t that dreadfully boring?

How ordinary isn’t it, to pick a rose?

When you in the rainforest could go exploring?

 

But I just love the rose, it cannot be helped,

It’s beauty is just so very simple,

So I stand here now, and I proudly state,

That yes, sir, the rose is my symbol.

 

 

So sweet a scent if you handle with care,

Though blood will flow if you do not.

There’s a reason the rose is a symbol of love,

Though I can still feel you call it boring in your thoughts.

 

But if the rose is so ordinary, so let it be,

 

But for me; complex beauty is all that I can see.

Insomnia

If I fall asleep now I can get seven hours.

Except I need to get up, because I think I let the stove on.

 

If I fall asleep now I can get six hours.

Except I’m thinking of all the things I’ve got to do tomorrow.

 

If I fall asleep now I can get five hours.

Except I’m thinking about all the things I didn’t do today.

 

If I fall asleep now I can get four hours.

The ticking of the alarm clock is driving me insane.

 

If I fall asleep now I can get three hours.

I have that big project due next week. I’m not even halfway done.

 

If I fall asleep now I can get two hours.

How am I ever going to work on two hours of sleep?

 

If I fall asleep now I can get one hour.

One hour. Surely I can’t work on that.

 

I’m supposed to get up now.

I call in sick.

And finally…

I sleep.