[x]

As kidsThe grown-ups would ask, when I was a kid,
What do you want to be when you get big?
We were doctors and lawyers and superheroes!
All said cheerily through mouthfuls of cheerios.

Replies would be long, replies would be short.
"I want to be everything!", I said, with thought.
The bliss of childhood, I'll never forget.
Not once would a decision be filled with regret.

As we grew older, we knew were fooled.
The innocent friend that we called life,
Had an envious twin known as strife.

Ah well break's over, so back to work I go,
As dull as it is; to this day I'll still be reminiscing,
About a past much more exciting.

Kirsten Z. jacob

My day offThis morning I woke up fashionably late.
Something to which I could never quite relate.
Lying on my bed, I paid my respects,
To all those unsavory mornings that were just so complex.

Waking up early to a deafening sound,
Thinking if only that alarm was never around!
Jumping out of bed to my morning routine,
Around the house, up, down, left, right even in between.

Pulling on my clothes disregarding any options.
When I get a job, suits would be a simpler concoction.
Even the most important meal was never part of my day.
Just maybe choking down some toast in a confused disarray.

Out the door I go, grabbing my stuff.
Mentally

Falling asleepI lie on my bed at the end of the day,
Letting all my troubles just drain away.
An intimate time I can look forward to
By bidding the world a warm adieu!

I close my eyes and say a short prayer,
Thanking God for all I hold dear.
Into the silence I slowly fall,
Just then a mosquito decides to call!

Its tiny wings create this horrendous sound,
So under the sheets I go, where I can't be found.
This hide and seek I always win,
Till it flies away in a beaten tailspin.

Finally now I can get some sleep.
Maybe even count some white fluffy sheep.
I take a deep breath when I felt a slight tingle
Under these sheets I was baking, medium

My AmbitionsMy Ambitions.

People tell me I have talent.
And my attempts at poetry are noble and valiant.

I want my words to leave a mark on this earth.
I write for myself, to give me some sort of worth.

I still think anyone is capable doing I what I do.
Paint the same or an even better image of the one I just drew.

I've been accepted by a few, but rejected by many.
This life is perpetual and the strain is getting heavy.

I write for you, as well as for me.
I write from my heart, to set my mind free.

A man who writes poetry isn't the epitome of masculinity.
I had to disregard the stereotype and over come the humility.

My writing is all I have

My Heart's Moth DanceI always loved,
Butterflies.
I wanted them to
Be born in my stomach,
Unexpectedly.
I wanted to feel,
Their fragile wings
Flutter inside.

And so they did.
But they were too frightened
to escape.
My voice became thin air.
And I,
wanted my heart to fly
So it could tell you...
That you're the meaning,
of love.
Hope.
Life.
Light.

I never really understood
Moths.
They were like my words,
Tripping over
In my voice,
Stuttering and stammering,
But you came along,
And moths
born in my heart,
Pushed all my words,
Out of my mouth
In rambles of
Beauty.

You have shown me,
How special moths are,
Your eyes shone the light

Your poemThis poem is from you
Written down by me
Although it isn't mine
It's yours, don't you see?

I write down the words
but they come from your mind
even though you don't know
what you leave behind

I pick up what's left
and put it all together
I don't know what I do
but it's for the better

You say you can't write
but that's not your need
Just simply be there for me
it's the poet inside me you feed

HeartbrokenI loved, I cared, I gave you all that I could,
My misfortune; I couldn't be all that you wanted.
I hoped, I wished, and I thought you understood,
My misfortune; my heart felt taunted.
I wondered, I asked, and I prayed for your own good.
My misfortune; I felt so unwanted,
I pleaded, I begged, all to share thoughts I could,
My misfortune; I neglected the hurt you had planted.
I was stupid, I was blind, I was unable to read your mind,
My misfortune; I still messaged you.
I learnt my lesson, I felt the world, I now think I know it,
Dont worry, you shall never feel so lacerated.
I promise, I swear, I shall never speak to you again,
Fo

Heart AcheHeart Ache.

People constantly telling me you're not the same.
But I see all you females as the same despite your names.
I've had my heartbroken before, but you are not to blame.
But instead of removing I'm adding to the bloodstain.
The mark is healing but the impact still remains.
Fought my gut feeling and let you in to my mind frame
I can't help but think my history is repeating itself once again.
Security is one mind set that I find hard to obtain.
But after the last time, I said I would stop and refrain.
I said to myself I would never end up in this same situation again.
Maybe she is right and my past has driven me insane.
Mayb

Who am I?                      "I am me.."

               Who ever that may be.

                           Made by a world,

                Not easily understood.

No much time leftTired is my body and tired feels my soul
So I close my eyes and let my thoughts go
They take wherever, to a faraway land
And show me things that I don't want

A terrifying vision in front of me is set
Days are running out, no much time left

I can see all my life in front of me
Is that really what I wanted to be?
Do I even know what I wanted for me?
All I want now is another chance to be

The terrifying vision before me spreads
It's only hours now, no much time left

Whatever I have is not what I want
Whatever I want is not what I have
Shall I just die or stand up and fight?
Weigh your desires and get just the one

This terrifying

Gaia's tearsThe familiar calm when the air runs cold
Happens more frequently as hurt gets old.
Time slows to a halt for the oncoming rain
Sparking deep from the core of the source of Her pain.

As the skies turn dark, filled to the brim
By countless sealed letters personally sent.
With written concerns calling relent.
Silence! Comes Her beckoning whim.

The roar of the thunder, the weakening gates.
Till they hold no more, breaking hinges and free inmates.
Falling with order rather haphazardly.
Hitting their mark with a message immediately.

'Tears from Heaven', fall far from home.
Misread origins and meanings from a grand tome.
Breathing

In Love, I RemainI hold the guitar against me
But I'm afraid it just wont do
No notes that I play could compare
To the symphony that is you

So who is the orchestrator
Of this harmonic elegance
The beauty of which sustains me
With such a lasting resonance

Angels, please sing us a chorus
And paint the clouds so silver lined
May she always dream in colour
And may I always speak in rhyme
One single whispered word from her
Always seems to eclipse my pain
With belief, hope and destiny
Forever in love, I remain

I hold the paintbrush in my hand
Until creative thoughts will cease
But no strokes could ever come close
To your beautiful masterpiece

Ea

The QuestHowling, raging storm
Skies of hurt and pain
Lost within the darkness
The heart I cannot tame

Why will you not listen
Oh love on fragile wings
Time and fate have spoken
No longer should we sing

Tender arms a memory
The echo of a kiss
Heaven rolled the dice
And took away our bliss

Still in hope we travel
Through icy rain and gales
Praying, hoping, dreaming
That love may yet prevail

Yearning, always yearning
We fly in search of you
For love forever destined
The love we know is true...

UtopiaUtopia

I raise my head and tilt it towards the skies.
Open my imagination and close my eyes.

Envision a place where I would rather be.
As far away from any judgmental eye that can see.

A place where all my dilemmas become obsolete.
Free from my troubles and the expanding concrete

Confinement that I am forced to exist in.
A place where it doesn't matter if you don't fit in.

A place where nothing but a smile is required.
Where I can think and write to my heart's desire.

A place free from any physical and mental disposition.
Free from the conflicting and persuasive power of religion.

A place where there are adjustable weather condit

How to be an artistBeing an artist is not so simple
Nor is it a gift to those who are faithful.
It is the easiest thing in the world to do
But also the hardest by far to have a breakthrough.

It starts with a thing that some call will.
"Where there is a will, there is a way"
You'll hear them say.
Follow it down a path, don't let it go astray.

Passion is next, but not to be confused.
A mixture of love and anger, that only you can transfuse.
Kept tight in a bottle till the time is right
Then let it explode! Giving new insight.

If by now you've decided, then you'll need some tools.
Canvas, paper, film, get whatever you can use.
Media on which yo

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Mistakes[Mistakes]

"I've made a mistake" is something I'll say
Which would be quite often, almost every day
About silly little things that don't mean much
And really big things that cause a lot of fuss

Forgetting a book and even a test
Or not remembering when you confessed
Not taking out the trash at the end of the day
That leaves this strong smell that just won't go away

Arguing with my best friend, losing them at the end
A relationship that could take many years to mend
Even making new enemies at every right turn
After acting without thought or any concern

The things I've said, the acts I've done
Pushing on my chest like a million to

When Rain Falls In Life[When Rain Falls In Life]

Thick grey clouds float in the sky
Casting dark shadows over my life
The wind picks up and begins to blow
All of my problems that won't let go

Nothing ever goes according to plan
Then the rain falls over the land
Trying hard to make things well
As drains and rivers begin to swell

A torrential downpour is what this be
With zero visibility in front of me
How did I get myself here into thee?
Ignored the signs I did foolishly

Can I pretend to be brave in this storm?
By sitting in the eye all safe and warm.
Or I can go out timid and afraid
The only way of ending my own masquerade.

When rain falls in life

How To Use Life[How To Use Life]

On Earth,

     Life a unique commodity.

         It is precious.

             Though, what sets it apart

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               &

A Cure For Writer's Block[A Cure For Writer's Block]

When your pen hits the paper and nothing comes out
With a full cartridge, something's about.
Sitting there lonely staring off into space
You've got Writer's Block mate, it's a terrible case

The symptoms are some of the worse things to *bare
If left untreated, might as well say a prayer.
Diagnosing the problem is the first step to take
So let's get it started before it's too late.

Do you find yourself doing, the things you've put off?
Or watching TV late at night till you cough?
Dusting and cleaning. Hunting for food.
Surfing the net since you've found yourself glued.

Hanging out with friends all night

Who am I?                      "I am me.."

               Who ever that may be.

                           Made by a world,

                Not easily understood.

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Submitted: May 14, 2012
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The little things

by ~KirtZJ, May 14, 2012, 5:27:44 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

The little things they said,
Are what matters the most.
Hello! Goodbye! Can I help you?
Providing aid to some lonely ghost.
Are all forgotten in the blink of an eye.

I'll walk into a room and say good morning!
Noone looks up, but a few albeit they were yawning.
I'll stand in line, waiting on my turn.
A gentleman cuts in front, looking quite stern.
A passerby bumps into me and spills coffee on my shoe.
Not a word of apology, even as I smile "Hey, howdy do?"

I'll stand on the sidewalk next to a puddle so clear.
A driver will pass, splashing me while the street kids cheer.
I'll leave my phone unattended next to my lunch.
The phone's still there when I get back.
Of course, what would they do,
Make a call while they munch?

I'll ask a question, different from the norm.
Harsh glares would be returned that say,
Why don't you just conform?
They'll dwell on the part that made them mad.
Just a second it would take, to make us all glad.

This is the world we live in.
Unsightly yet true.
We don't speak about it, a bad review.
Manners and etiquette they taught us in schools,
Yet all of this on a syllabus which has yet to be proved.

Kirsten Z. Jacob

The little thingsby ~KirtZJ

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

Just a few words about the world we live in..

This piece cannot in whole or in part be reproduced or altered in any way without my permission.
Copyright © Kirsten Z. Jacob, 2012

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~TegzyPuff97 May 28, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

this reminds me of a dr. seuss type thing except more mature

~KirtZJ May 31, 2012 Writer

Well Dr. Seuss is a genius. I cant compare to him..But I think I see what you mean.

~TegzyPuff97 Jun 3, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

like, telling a story with rhyme and verse...

~sweetpie2 May 25, 2012

I really like your style of writing!

~KirtZJ May 25, 2012 Writer

Why thank you! again!

*KelaLewis-Morin May 15, 2012 Student Writer

Love it

and it is so true good job nice use of every day life settings it really adds to the piece. these situations everyone can relate to making it universal well done

~KirtZJ May 23, 2012 Writer

Thank you so much for the kinds words friend. I wanted to add more settings, but decided against it since it would have gotten a bit lengthy. thanks again!

*Jujutsu May 14, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

WIN!

Pure truth!

~KirtZJ May 23, 2012 Writer

I know right!

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