literaryscribbler-blog

[literaryscribbler-blog]

Why are words so easy to say, But so hard to comprehend. Why? Oh why? . . . . . . The Literary Scribbler . . . . . #Sadness #Despair #brokenness #poetryforthesoul #poetryfortheheart #poetry #poetrycommunity #poetrysociety #writerscommunity #writeups #word_pleasure #words #love #wait #despair #life❤️ #followforfollow #followformore #literarypieces #literature #TheLiteraryScribbler ♡♡

[literaryscribbler-blog]

[literaryscribbler-blog]

All i need is a sweet sweet lullaby to help me escape into peacefulness.. <3 

[literaryscribbler-blog]

This temperament is persistent, like water. Like water it flows with peace in resonance. Like water it gushes with the rising tides. Like water, in seconds, it takes the rage to calm. And once again, like always, reach serenity. This anger is as powerful, a little as like fire. Like fire it engages to burn out the entire forest. Like fire consuming the foliage, igniting the shrubs. Like fire once quench leaving the ashes, dust to coal. And like that leaving the world at ease and silence. This flow that exists within is as subtle as air. Like air, the wind blows in the midst of delicacy. Like air, once flickered, will the hurricane fulminate. Like air passes by without leaving a clue or even a trace. And with that much power, still it touches the ground. This soul, this mind, it lingers, just as doeth the earth. Like earth it connectes existences, beings, non beings. Like earth it tries to adapt to change, adhere, to adjust. Like earth it struggles to outgrow a commonality. To cease people from destroying it's very essence. When you compare the attributes that makes a being. To see the fundamentals; water, fire, air and earth. It stands to show that we are alike, relative perspective. What does it mean to be a human? From sadness to happiness. What a beauty it is. What is life? A glow. Darkness. A tear. Or a smile.

-AV

[literaryscribbler-blog]

Rainbow Filter

Half of my life. Spent in blindness. From evil and good. So confused. Silent. I try to see. I really do. It’s like my eyes. Are a rainbow filter. To show them all. As mere innocent people. Clueless to life itself. Pouring colorful words. Absconding from their mouths. And I choose to see. Only. A colorful picture. So bright. So clear. But underneath, The surface of their faces. They hide from me their evil. They hide their truths. But still I choose to stay. Visually impaired. At least that way. I will not get hurt.

-AV

It’s better to see what can not be seen then to suffer an agony from seeing what is worst. Even if it is the reality.

[literaryscribbler-blog]

YOU

In this day and age rudimentary attraction,

A fling, a little bit of pleasure or lust,

Is often confused for love and affection,

And why wouldn't it be? It is but so rare.

Love is a seen entity that can be purchased,

Handled, as some people call it or forced,

As some boast it can be earned or developed,

In a realist point of view; naturally occurring.

In some cases it is presented as a token,

Of gratitude; and in one era it could be shared,

To not just one but billions at the same time,

Can you look at one the same way as the other?

Some look at love as compassion, while others,

A way to continue specie; a way to prosper,

Some even say it is but sacrifice for the other;

Ardor before all, ardor before everything.

Well, when I think about love, my head stops,

Time haults for me, as I drift away somewhere,

Somewhere far away, but with you by my side,

And when I think of love, you are on my mind.

As I watch you, as your hand touches mine,

And the way my skin crawls afterwards,

As the way my eyes crave to see you somehow,

Somewhere; just to see your face once more.

And that silence that I dread that terrified me,

All the years of my childhood, it doesn't scare me,

Not anymore. And all that I see is the smile,

On your face. And I feel all the strength in the world.

I watch you as you age, as your face gets mature.

As your hair turns grey, as your eyes get deeper,

As every minute passes I see the feeling getting,

Stronger. And I watch it change you. Change me..

I loved speaking, talking. Generally blabbering,

But now I just want to hear you tell your stories,

To just keep listening to you and just say nothing.

Not a single word. Because what you say is important.

They say the more the love, the longer the poem,

But I don't even know what to say; where to begin. 

Or whether or not the definitions of love comply.

But whenever someone asks me what love is.

I tell them it's you.

And it's always been you.

-AV