If a poet had no words, would he leave his poem blank?

I'm not sure about what, but I feel like writing. The emptiness of my thoughts and emotions of the current moment pouring out onto a page. How would that appear? Would a poet, with nothing to write, leave a poem blank?Would a person, with no thoughts on the day, leave a blank page in their journal?If one has no words, one should not speak, yet they do.We carry on conversations without thought sometimes, why do we find words when we have others around.How come sometimes we have no words if there's one certain person in our midst?Maybe it's not that we are at a loss of words, or thought, but that somehow in the translation from thought to sound, it's lost. Perhaps we're not sure how to express ourselves, or how to...well yes express ourselves. Perhaps part of the thought is lost in the thought process, then more is lost in the translation to speech or written hand.Young children speak their minds though, and they know exactly what they mean and what they think. What has happened as we age?Is it that their thoughts are so simplistic that they pass through the channels running from thought to speech so easily without obstruction?Perhaps it is the mere fact that we are hiding ourselves from the world. That we continue to mask who we really are, that we begin to subconsciously filter our thoughts before they are exposed. Then they are not our thoughts at all. They are simply what we wish society to see. Look around you one day and notice, everyone looks "normal". If you were to see someone off beat, wouldn't you think a bit negatively of them?It's this reaction that we fear. As human beings we crave to be loved. Even by complete strangers to some form or level. There are times when we can truly be ourselves. Around other people, or when we are by ourselves. When we put time aside to be with God.Some of us have learned to be ourselves no matter what. Maybe that is why so many people are captivated by poetry.The poets have learned to reveal the nakedness of their thoughts, hearts, souls.
A poet would never leave his poem blank. He would fill his poem with the emptiness of his thoughts. Which in turn, would no longer be emptiness

I never...

...told him that i loved him
Or showed him that i cared
I never ever held him close
I never would have dared...
I never hugged him out of joy
Or even out of sorrow
I never ever would have thought
I wouldn't see him tomorrow
I never held his hand in mine
Or had mine in his...
I never ever would have thought
I'd never get that kiss
I never thought he'd leave me
Or that he'd make me cry
I never ever believed that
I could be so ever shy
I never sat in that tree with him again
Or walked on down that lane
I never ever thought we wouldn't havve the chance
I am a stranger to this pain
I never thought that i would smile
Or laugh in those final moments
I never ever dreamed
I would miss those moments spent...
I never thought my dearest friend
Or my love as you could call him
I never ever gave such notice
I never let it cross my mind...
That my dearest friend
who watched me so silently
That my very dearest love...
That he'd so soon leave me


I'm never going to get over Masaya... I'm going to stop writing about it maybe, and talking about him as much... but... It's so hard to find friends like Masaya Chihara ♥ to find someone who can annoy me so much, yet i can so easily fall in love with.

Every Kiss, Every Moment, Each and Every Glance

Smiling at each other...
shyly from across the room.
the first time that their eyes meet
and they look away quickly with a bashful smile
and rosy red cheeks
the first time their hands touch
just a moments stroke
but the beginning of a lifetime's many moments
the first time they speak to each other
two voices harmoniously joining
laughing with each other like bells
the first time their lips touch
an awkward moment for the both
but a smile from ear to ear
on both of their faces
when they finally part.
anger. frustration. sadness.
now all the author has to do is write the ending.
or can the charachters write this ending themselves?

My Perfect

I always thought i'd be ordinary
i never thought i'd be extraordinary
you make me feel as if i could fly
though night after night still i'd cry
then you kept telling me i was beautiful
making me feel more and more wonderful
still though i didn't believe in myself
shoved my heart to the back of that shelf
then you told me i was strong
that i have been all along
still in the back of my own little mind
courage was something that i couldn't find
and still you kept saying how smart i was
i'd laugh and show off and make all this fuss
but somehow i kept saying i knew
that if i was really smart i'd see things through
the most outrageous one was perfection
calling me perfect as if it were some common infection
the funny part is... at this point i started to give in
i'm just telling you now that you're about to win
I'm not beautiful, strong or perfect
sometimes i feel as if i had some defect
but you... you make me feel
as if all those things about me were real.
when i'm with you i feel beautiful
whispering in my ear that i'm wonderful
when i'm with you i feel strong
because i know that you've been there all along
when i'm with you i know i'm smart
because i chose to give you my heart
when i'm with you, it may not be everyone's perfect
but you know what?
it's mine.

Heart Beats

A simple string
on an every day instrument
to me thought
it is more
it makes a sound
reverbrating through my body
it sounds different dependoing on who plays
it is a beautiful melody
a song that single note
it's so hard to explain
but... the notes i play
continue through my soul
they are my heart beats.

My Purpose

i know i'm sourrounded by those i love
i am after all
the child of my parents
it's those people that i continue to live for
it's the love for them that keeps me
from flying from a cliff
even if depression
and melancholy sourrounds me
still i continue to smile
it's because of people like you
those who are there
who don't leave me or break my heart
there are few i loveand many who love me
but still few loves beats the many
because tis not quantity
but quality as they say
of the people who love me
and gladly enough
you are part of the few
so smile for me and i will smile for you

That Cursed Broken Heart

Question:
My insides are breaking...Then why am i waiting??
Torn between to lives of love
One you love
yet also hate.
It loves you... or so it says.
But is it you,or is it your shoe?
The other cannot be described,
but has not yet been perscribed.
Someone said a broken heart...
would sting at first,
then make you stronger.
why does the pain then remain??
Are we cursed to learn from a constant reminder?
or does it finally leave...and make us stronger?

My poem and reply:
listen my friend and listen well
for my tale is sad to tell
you fall in love, the world is right
but then you lose all sense and sight
your heart is shattered the pain is there
and you feel as if no one else cares
you thought you loved them,
but your world is gone
the things you do, really aren't fun
the pain remains, it may subside
but don't take it as reason to hide
it lives on in our memory, and everything we do
could make it come alive, i feel it to
i remember the way he used to stroke my hair
acting as if he really cared.
even if the memory lingers still...
and screams in our ears so loud and shrill.
we grow stronger with each passing day
as we move on our friends still stay
they stay to comfort us, and help us go strong
soon it won't be very long
until even if the memory is there
soon you won't even care
ofcourse it will hurt, daggers through your heart
but take it as a reason for a new start
because even if it never leaves, and seems to torture us so
this memory, this experience makes us want to go...
out into the world to experience new things.
making us stronger for what the world will bring

Freedom

i hate it when they scream...
get so mad they start to cry.
so heated. so angry...
so... against each other.
people that want to be together.
but yet they can be so mad at each other
so hateful.
so spiteful.
over stupid.
mortal.
earthly things.
like money. material things.
they're telling him to grow up
to learn to be an adult
telling him to earn their trust.
a point well made.
but. now i have to feel the backlash.
to be around them while they're upset
to hear their screams up close...
there's no where for me to hide...
no where for me to go...
this is why sometimes i want to die.
sometimes... death is the only escape.
but... then i would have to face the unkown
and unkown possibly worse than this...
what could be worse than this though...
hearing people who love each other so much...
say they miss each other
but.. still.. be so angry at each other... so...
so heated...
i wish i could find a place to hide...
or at least someone with comforting words...
i have a place to hide, but it's so very far away.
it would take me hours to walk.. but it might be worth it...
just to hide. to be alone
with my own thoughts. to try and forget.
but... still... i need someone to hear me.
to listen to my tears fall to the ground.
to hold me until i stop.
to tell me that everything is all right.
but now all i have is a faraway place to hide.
someday i'll escape. someday...
someday i'll be free.

I'm Confused About Who This Poem Is About

he used to make me smile you know...
a sweet gentle smile. not as if i was happy.
yes.. as if i was happy, but the smile he made me do
was different than a normal smile.
i felt calm and peaceful.
he's a moody guy this friend of mine.
He's so much older than me though.
two maybe three years.
his smile was sweet but it made me smile too.
to see him smile like that.
but most of the time he was moody
he would just stare off at the sky
as if.. he thought...
if he kept staring...
he'd be swept away to some far off place.
i think he had been swept off though
lost in his own thoughts.
i remember looking at the stars with him.
smiling at him
talking to him
laughing with him
both of us different from our friends...
different from each other...
but still so much a like.
the way he took care of me.
he made me feel just a little bit more special.
as if sometimes it was only just him and me.
but... after his 4th year. he's going home.
land of the rising sun.
i've always wanted to go there.
maybe i'll go there someday
see him again
laugh with him
talk with him...
he'll probably scold me again
for being so childish and stubborn
but... i think he likes my childlike qualities
and my stubborn attitude.. sometimes...
i just hope that he misses me when i miss him.
sometimes i wonder what would have happened..
if...

Searching

part of my heart still pines for lost loves
and was left behind in the dust
part of my soul searches for it's final counterpart
and strayed from the path
part of me is searching for the one who will complete me
and help me find myself
so i'm not sure my dearest friend
if i am truly whole

The Words I Never Heard

I always knew he was my closest friend,
but I liked him more than that.
I knew he liked me more than that
One day while i was walking.We were laughing joking talking
We stopped under a maple tree
We sat on a branch, that was high in the clouds.
I asked him a simple question.
How much did he really like me?
He answered with a hug, a grinlike smile
You're my closest friend and that's the truth.
I smiled at him, and his jetblack eyes
Nothing more? Just a friend?
No nothing more. Yes just a friend
What I thought I knew was a lie.
Ever since thn, i have refused.
to smile, to laugh, to sing, to joke.
to say the words I LOVE YOU

Final Breath

With these final breaths;
with my final words;
The only thing I have to say,
is death is my salvation!
Those many nights I cried,
the many tears I shed.
The beatings, the torture, the hurt
that lay deep within my soul.
I can feel my life draining now
I sense my body stiffen.
I could feel the steel, within my flesh.
Blood coursing through my body
As the strands of my life
fade away
I know,
death is my salvation