Me, Myself… And Everyone Else

Just a young Irish girl, looking for somewhere to share my poetry.

Kindness October 15, 2012

Filed under: Poetry — maisygirl @ 10:24 pm
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Finally, on to the first of the virtues in my Seven Deadly Sins/Seven Heavenly Virtues. I hope you enjoy it. I’ve decided to look at how, if you take these virtues to their extremes, they can actually be considered negative. I also have a page up the top, so if you want to you can easily view all of this series together.

She’s always there
To hold your hand,
Wipe the sweat from your brow,
And kiss it better.
Her smile calms storms.
Her arms are always open
For a hug.
She doesn’t care
Who the hand she holds
Belongs to.
It doesn’t matter to her
What face is behind
The problem she has to solve.
She treats all equally.
Soothes all regardless.
But who will pick her up
And kiss her injuries away,
When she falls?

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Another Language October 14, 2012

Filed under: Poetry — maisygirl @ 8:37 pm
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She watches him from afar:

Careful glances slyly stolen

When she thinks no one is looking.

She observes him:

With the wariness of a lioness on the hunt,

Praparing to strike.

She hopes to someday make contact.

The first meeting of two different species.

Perhaps over time

They might learn to understand each other

Because right now he is speaking in a foreign language.

 

We Are Like Sparrows

Filed under: Poetry — maisygirl @ 1:10 pm
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She is a sparrow.

She longs to be free,

Stretch her wings

Over some glorious expanse.

But he wants

To keep her locked up.

Cramp her wings

With iron bars.

He doesn’t understand

Her need for freedom.

And so over time

She begins to lose her wings.

Her feathers moulted,

If you saw her now

You would not recognise her.

Her cries are silenced.

He has murdered her through misunderstanding.

 

Lust

Filed under: Poetry — maisygirl @ 12:26 am
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Finally, the last sin in my Seven Deadly Sins/Seven Heavenly Virtues series. I’m  so glad to finally get this up. I hope you like it.

She craves the feel
Of many hands
Crawling all over her body.
Why should she
Be limited to just one?
Why does she have to choose?
She doesn’t care
If she gets ‘a name.’
She made
Her choices,
They made
Theirs.
She can never be loved enough.
Her body
Can never
Contain
Too much love.

 

Slip/Slide May 16, 2012

Filed under: Poetry — maisygirl @ 9:19 pm
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This poem came from the prompts ‘snake’, ‘honey’, and ‘thaw’. I hope you like it.

 

Sly, like a snake.

Words drip venemously

From her fangs,

Slip-slide into your

Unconcious mind,

Going down as

Easily as a spoonful of honey.

The trick is to

Not be decieved by

Her lies. Try to

Keep the control of you mind.

Maybe if you’re lucky

You might thaw

Her icecold heart.

 

Actually, just thought of an idea… If anyone else wants to write a poem using the same prompts, and post it or post a link here, that could be interesting? Let me know.

Cheers!

 

Dreams and Reality May 6, 2012

Filed under: Poetry — maisygirl @ 10:01 am
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I wonder can anyone guess what movie I was inspired by?

 

Caught in a game,

No way to tell

What is real

And what is imagined.

 

Waiting for The One

To come and save you.

But what if

Even that is a lie?

 

Betrayal on all sides.

Watch your back.

There’s a fine line

Between friend and enemy.

 

So now, are you still

Willing to die

For love,

Or an old lie?

 

Surrounded.

Enemies multiply,

Friends are being subtracted.

Allies divide.

 

But throughout all this,

Love only adds.

 

First Love May 4, 2012

And I know
He sees me only
As a friend –
Maybe even less.
Unimportant,
A younger sister.

But what started off
As a few small flames,
Flickering among the balled up
Newspapers of my life,
Has been gently fed and fanned
By each kind word
And smile
He sends my way:
Unintentionally.

Until now
The blazing fireIs burning my small frame
And threatening to
Overcome it entirely,
Burst out,
And burn me up.

But for now
It is contained.
So I reach out to him
One
Tiny
Finger
Of light.

Because he
Starts all my body thrumming
To the distant
Beat that is him.
And to me he feels like
The end of the week.