We laugh the hardest We laugh to close our eyes To the bombs going off around our madness We laugh the loudest We laugh to silence The pain screaming out our sadness We sing a melody To mask the threnody Of our bones cracking to pieces In this resplendent crescendo Of all the things we cannot change or do As the grenades fall to our forgetting We reach out to touch what we’ve done by not doing We open our eyes to all that we’ve not done An infinite Armageddon Attempting on a canvas made of broken dreams To paint What peace is.
I live on Regret Boulevard I am full of rue and blue There are a hundred roads I wish I had not taken A thousand words I wish unsaid A million silences I wish I had shattered But loving you was a risk worth taking I take that risk every day I leave my Bloody glass heart in your quavering wet hands And it’s worth it! Loving you Being loved by you And if somehow, someway, someday, you drop it You drop me I will break Into words People will call them poetry I will call it heartbreak Still No matter what the wreckage Love will always be worth it.
There are so many times I wish that I could conquer inertia. I have come to realize that I am a fearful person. On the surface, I am still, as a lake. On the inside, I am a storm. A hurricane.
For more than a decade, I have wanted to write a story in the shape of a novel. But fear has held back my pen from gracing paper.
I fear that I lack the skill, the courage, the wit, the grit. I fear being rejected. But I’m no stranger to rejection.
Still, it keeps me still.
If somehow I could overcome myself, I would believe, I would imagine, I would sit, I would bleed, I would be free.
I think.
Daily writing prompt
Write about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently?
Hi fear can be viewed as respect. To fear the Lord is to respect Him. We respect what He could do if He wanted and we respect we will not be able to come close to who He is, except through Jesus who bridged that gap of fear for us. He gives us peace instead of fear . Why He is the prince of peace. I also fear stuff. There are times I do not want to go outside out of respect for what could happen. I force myself to go out. I also rely on faith to help me. There are times I do not make it out the door though. You write pretty well you should make yourself write that book. If it fails so what, if it makes a big splash so be it. The importance is making yourself do it. No matter what is screaming inside tell it what to do, with respect for self. I pray peace for you.
We write in silence about sound We write in sadness about happiness We write in tears about laughter We write alone about a crowd We write of light from utter darkness We paint stars from a dark room We offer insight from our confusion We write of freedom from a cage We pen the sky from beneath a sea We write of love with ripped out hearts We pen beauty from our pain Our heart is our pen And our blood is our ink Our scars are our words And our hope hides in-between our lines We write of home from abandoned buildings We go to bed alone at night Writing love poems on the cold side of the pillow Closing our eyes hoping to see A world where we are free indeed.
There is a world inside me That is painted with colours that do not exist There is a word inside me That cannot be written or read Every life is like a book There is always a chapter That would bring you to tears My life has been a hundred of those pages And my days are spent hitting rocks at the bottom of an ocean But some days I come up for air And I feel life gracing my lungs It feels so good to be alive those days And I see clearly how Everything that drowned me Taught me how to swim.
Everything that drowned me, Taught me how to swim.
Sometimes I long to belong to the sea, to be a vast, meaningful nothingness… that’s loved by a shore. I run away most times from no one but me, to be with the breeze, to be alone with the storm inside me. My smile has become a mask for a pain that has no face.
Sometimes I long to belong to someone, to linger in their every thought, to be their first thought before coffee and their last before blankets. To be their dream come true.
I’m a dreamer who’s found the kindest realities in dreams. My imagination has been heaven for my wounded soul. ‘Cause there I belong to me, and I’m at peace with me, and no labels are glued on me, and my face breathes free.
But I wake up every morning drowning in oxygen, and my voice travels for miles and miles as written words in a bottle, swimming to the feet of someone who longs to be the sea, to be a vast, meaningful nothingness that’s loved by anyone.
Your eyes pull out light from my dark soul, and every moment with you transcends transcendental memories. Your love has been my heaven. Holding me closely in your arms, our heartbeats remind me that God exists. I wonder if you are human or an angel and ask if this is what immortality feels like. You smile softly and then I see it. I see hell in your smile. A hell in which the sun sets never to rise again. You showed me your demons, I showed you mine. I wondered if we would ever heal or if time was just as broken too and asked if this was what mortality felt like. You held my face in your hands and raised it long enough for me to see, a sun rising never to set again. You smiled gently and then I saw it. Hell was the absence of love, and I was your heaven. And then you saw it… you were mine as well.
Jenim Dibie 
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