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Table of contents
Unveiled - Reformed Journal: The Twelve
The Mightiest of the Crawling Creatures. This Friend of Mine. Oh, the lessons I have learned, from the mountains I have climbed; Oh, the lessons yet to come, from all I am to find. I have learned of more than I can seem to recall—. Who can see the Lord? Our creator invisible. Like the winds only heard.
A Defence of Poetry
The Art of Overcoming. Your scars are not beautiful. But you are beautiful with them. You were beautiful without them, but you have a new kind of beauty with them, because they speak of how much you have overcome. Dreadfully Truthful. We are not exposed to reality until we meet Light. The Words. The words It blurs My eyes are watering. The words It jerks As it shakes in my hand. To be. To be free in me, poetry has taught me To express the light in me, the God in me, the beauty in me Shining brightly through me All these, poetry has taught me. My lips are not soft, freshOr new.
They are dry and rough,Scarred from self-infliction. You see him sitting down across you. He was wearing a flannel shirt, red and black stripes crossing his upper body frame. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.
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His face tilted to the side giving you an open view. In the midst of a cloudy year, we write to our spirits and ask for salvation. We send letters to our minds,. The Art of Words. Poems speaks words so loud, you can feel the raw emotion.
THE POEMS of EMMA LAZARUS
Celestial Escape. The thermosphere is showered with stars Sprinkling the inky infinity with transcendent luminescence Deep crimson to brilliant sapphire, they radiate Forcing even souls of malice and anxiety to eternal serenity. Your Mind. Filled with many Gears and Parts, That work in harmony. To produce such Beautiful Inspiration. In Her Universe. Golden Girl. Beauty and Brains. I found it very hard to relate and reciprocate my feelings in a more intellect way. So I took a moment and reflected on the women in my family that inspire me and how beautiful they are to me.
Isn't That More Fun? A poem is like a pair of glasses Lenses I can flip down Rose tinted, perhaps, but With them on, I can see flecks of gold among the dirt. The colors of the wind in the sky, listening as your life goes by to the gulls in the air to the people who care. Purple is soothing like the waves of music.
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It twinkles outside, Glistening as it falls down. Beautifully cold. You are all the beautiful things in the world. A Hue's Affiliation.
Color it blue, With the words of color. Be creative. Use many shades. Show them the truth. The color of stability.
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Of calm. The Mouse's Nightly Expedition. Listen to the whisper of the rocks, telling their ancient story. Listen to the murmur of the river, speaking of past glory.
What I want to say on a daily basis. A Universal Language. Tree of Poetry. I will climb up my tree of poetry; Onto the highest branch, Far into the leaves Where the birds will sing the thoughts I, once, could never focus on. Never Let Go. Speak softly into the chambers of my heart. Never let go as you kindle me like a fire on a frigidly cold winter night. Touching your raven black hair, running my fingers through like a comb. The woman's tears were beautiful; the rarest things tend to be.
The less a fragile soul is seen, the more tender and sweet it seems.
What a beautiful weapon she is. She's the sharpest edge and the prettiest sight, The softest, sweetest bringer of night, And all with a teasing kiss. What a beautiful, beautiful weapon she is. I refuse to submit to the brainwashing of Faith. To live, I thrive off of beautiful things like.