Dead Dreams

Tags

creativewriting, deaddreams, literature, poem, poetry

There’s a graveyard in my house.
Dreams in the tears on my pillow;
Dead Dreams of long ago, on my pillow.

Shaking fingers
Chasing strangers
Until,
A trumpet is blown,
A grave is owned

Tear drop.

There are Dead Dreams in my house.
Dreams that have Passed way too long ago
To be Resurrected.

I ponder to myself,
Shovel after shovel:
“I could have held tighter;
It could have lived longer.”

Dead Dreams in my soul
A graveyard on my heart
Crosses, tombstones rising out of my chest.
When I’m sad, I wonder if it is because
There are too many Dead Dreams?
When I’m happy, I wonder if it is because
There are too many spirits?

Dead Dreams in my vessel
Dead Dreams in my house.
My steps are never gentle
For I travel with force

They’re trying to pull me under.

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Adults in a Playground (YouTube Video)

Tags

growingup, performanceart, poetry, poetryvideo, Problemwithadulthood, videography, writing, youtubevideo

”Adults in a Playground” is a piece about adults giving up their freedom, their “childhood”, to succumb to a mechanic, unwanted lifestyle and thus becoming hardened.

Click here, or click above, to watch the video for Adults in a Playground. Click here to read the poem, “Adults in a Playground”.

Adults In a Playground: https://sircharlesthepoet.wordpress.com/2022/07/04/adults-in-a-playground/

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Room 322

Tags

collegedorm, collegegirlfriend, collegelove, findinglove, lovecommunity, lovepoem, lovestory, poem, poetry, puppylove, universitypoetry, writing, younglove

the artists lounge in a room full of instruments
so daily performances don’t need advertisements.
Real-life athletes crowding the line of vision
television beaming football; Playstation X.
the most ecstatic floor in the building

But Room 322 is where beds join the chairing team
they talk like an open door. Invitation is never key
a room I walk past three different stairways, turn
walk by two more stairways, sometimes an elevator
take the stairs rarely used just so I’ll pass in front of

Her. She’d drive miles to that room
She’d go down a hill, walk under a bridge
follow the trail through trees thick at night
swivel among buildings made like Legos
painted in the uniform color of misdirection

I would too. Just to see her gold colored flats,
no-show socks, braces glimmering on a smile
when she smiles, I would feel too comfortable
when it’s late, perhaps 8, I would find a need
go somewhere non-urgent. Get there by walking

past three different sets of staircases, then turn,
walk by two other staircases, sometimes an elevator,
to take the stairs barely used, just to pass by Room 322.
delay my steps, turn my head, see her talking, laughing
where a hunter does not need some scheme to catch her

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Y’all, this girl AGREED to go on a date with me after I had put my GAME ON for her but I was too much of a coward to follow through with the date!!!!! 😦

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Before they Bounded my Mind

Tags

artiststruggles, growingup, industrialdevelopment, poem, poetry, poetrycommunity, raisingachild, restrainedcreativity, restrainedmind, writing

Before I could swim,
I walked on water.
I needn’t to float
I missed not a boat.
The waters paved flat;
Held me. Just like that.

Deeds reserved for gods
were always! my habits
I was unveiled to growth and
suddenly! I learned of sand
lived by Land—the way of men.

Before I was prudent,
I hadn’t the need to Survive.
I laughed, Revitalized the universe.
But they told me I am bound to land
And it is my Enemy

Before I could write,
I was the Essence of life’s journey
I traveled without these sheets
It was all there, at my access.
I had a longing for nothing

Now,
I Tread to breathe just a little longer
As I wish I could just Walk on water

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Love Your Broken

Tags

creativewriting, inspiration, love, loveafterlove, lovepoem, loyalty, poetry, selflove, thebesttypeoflove, writing

there’ll be a Pit on this journey
perhaps a Stop.

an encounter with promises
holding smiles kept broken by deception.

Arrange tables, brush seats
pour relaxation, feed fables
sorry, forgiveness, regrets;
everytime given the obscure choice,
you abandoned your faithful promises.

Look within your heart
fabricate stories far fetched
the reality built in the imagination:
what if I had stayed loyal?
held the promises made to myself?

blames won’t be tossed
grief will be Lost.
After all, these Promises are not the only ones broken.

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Inspired by: “Love After Love” – Derek Walcott

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Conversations For Me (unfinished piece)

Tags

helpimprovemypoem, howtobecomebetter, howtoimproveandbegood, howtostartaconversation, poem, poetry, poetryclass, poetrycommunity, poetryschool, purposeofaconversation, relatablecontent, writingcommunity

Does it bother you that people don’t care what’s inside your mind?
That after they’ve exhausted their opinions
You have choices.
To share yours that settle like dust on an untended table
Or sit in silence like ignorance swimming through cold city chaos

How do you feel knowing that when they ask a question
Start a conversation
It’s a trick for you treat them by opening the door
Their words and opinions flooding in your basket, careless of yours?

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Hey everyone!

Sircharles here! This poem is an unfinished piece. It does not feel ready to me. I don’t usually do this (I’ve actually never done this before) but I wanted to ask for some help in completing this piece. How do you think I should continue with it? How would you continue with it? Any specific edits that you would make to it? Or do you think the poem is complete and good as is? The poem is about someone initiating a conversation with you (especially by asking you a question) but honestly they just want you to start talking so they’d have an excuse to share what is on their mind—they do not care about what you have to say.

Please let me know your thoughts. Thank you!

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Indie Girl (Video)

Tags

girlslikeyou, indiegirl, love, lovelife, poem, poetry, poetrycommunity, poetryreading, poetryvideo, spokenwordpoetry, writing, youtubevideo

Hello all,

I’ve put together a YouTube Video for one of my favorite poems titled: Indie Girl. You can watch the video by clicking on the image above or by clicking here.

If you would like to read the poem, you could do so by clicking here, or by clicking on the link below.

https://sircharlesthepoet.wordpress.com/2021/12/17/indie-girl/

Indie Girl is a poem about my strong liking for girls who are very out of ordinary, which for the most part ends up being ladies who do not like me back, haha! Enjoy and let me know what you think please!

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gods of deceit

Tags

divinewriting, godsofdeceit, lifeofawriter, poem, poetry, poetrycommunity, worldofwriters, writersworld, writing, writingcommunity, writingpoetry

the truth in my writing is so sudden
the lie in my smile is so golden

the sun gives the paper a sniff of its blessings
illuminating writers as gods; wizards of words.

the words are not exactly
the letters are not really
the sentences are not certainly
what is being said.

scriptures glowing like gold on old parchment
with the wave of letters wiping the sermons out
of your consciousness and infusing it with spells

I’m a wizard. These words of god.

don’t trust our smile.
pain is a stain throughout our writing.
turning beauty into a thrilling madness;
extract aesthetic out of the destructions.

you’ll be moved;
you will need our suffering and stumbling.
all this gold in my smile

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Tether

Tags

Learningthroughmymistakes, letlifebeawind, lifeinhindsight, lifelessons, poem, poetry, poetryblog, poetrycommunity, regretmychoices, Tether, writing

Let life be a wind
Decisive. Indecisive
Experiences multiply
Another, before the former coasts by

Hindsight touched
by God. Distinct similarity
masked to the present
Liberty in the assurance of what’s to come.

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Pet of Royalty

Tags

ancientegypt, animals, cat, creativewriting, fallfromroyalty, ilovecats, pet, poem, poetry, poetrycommunity, write, writing, writingcommunity

what hangs in the air if the new age is combustion and lack of satisfaction?
everyone takes a piece of me, so i’m left with incoherent parts for the journey

Catastrophe is a normal part of life but did you forget
the times you used to be worshipped? brush shoulders
with royals. no matter how low you stoop, they still
hang prayers in the air; chandeliers in the atmosphere

a Pet of the higher kingdom chained in these polluted
mortal intersections crossing life with death. surprised
by reality—a lit face dimming of its expectations

did you forget?
it’s been a long journey.

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