Heart.break

the shattered reminants of my
heart
fell
clattering, scattering…
and I wondered if they’d make you bleed
as you stuff them into your pockets
and walk away

Chances are…

I chanced to wear my heart on my sleeve

Pulled them up so they were exposed 

No clothes to hide those scars 

My past an open book 

I wanted you to read me

My soul, crying out for someone to understand 

A chance to kiss those little marks

And love me anyway

these chances were all we had

Perhaps we should have fought,

Feigned happiness?

Nothing speaks broken

Like a hummingbird heart, shrinking within.

 

 

its been a long time huh? I hope you like my new poem, bashed this one out really fast so chances are it’ll get tweaked a little as one goes on. As always, interact as much as possible and any questions – just ask!

featured artwork credit: Olga Shvartsur

Apology a short poem by iamnobird94

 

Apology

A glass half empty shatters, shards, scattered.
Faces empty, searching.
Splintered, blinking…
Liquid sprayed, red.
Cuts run deep.
Pale.
To.
Compare.
Heart stopping.
Care? Quivering.
‘Sorry’ she sprays, hands spread.
The glass is turned upright.
Sighing.
Sorry, indeed.

The Dreamers Song

The Dreamers Song

Polluted promises, shattered as the glass half full scattered on the cold floor.

Thoughtlessness becomes relentless regret.

Does a dancer stop dreaming should her leg break in two?
Can a clown collect laughter, when his makeup is washed away?
A soulful singer, strumming her guitar, singing out her whole heart, does that passion fade, when her heart is healed and the music is changed?
Does a fire douse when it is starved?
How may the dreamer live, exist, so carelessly within reality?
And how does the heart heal, when it is cracked, crooked and blue?

Contemplation swimming, soaking each cell – flowing with the thoughts of the restless, yet content dreamer.

“Live” says the Dreamer, with a small, sly grin. “They live. Broken, but new…
For are the dirty not the purest for having been so lost, filthy in their memories, pain is a badge…” he says, head held “defeat it and wear it, display it, accept it. And dream of a dance, a song, a chime of laughter, of kindness, learning, love and love and love and LIVE!”

 

 

NOTE: Inspired by the many ‘badges’ I wear, and dedicated to those who wear them. Keep smiling, keep making others smile. Keep loving, living and dreaming. You’re doing okay.

A.I Athena A poem by iamnobird94

A.I Athena.

Artificial they say, intelligent? Maybe…
It’s not quite real; nay!
Caged in the memories, trust almost mythological.
A nest to lay rest, switched, flipped,
A broken thing.
Access to happiness, more so, the facts of it, the physiological, euphoria.
With neither a heart to quicken in joy,
Nor eyes to weep.
A quick fix, a faux.
Twiddle the screws, plug it in:
‘Are you perhaps alone?’ It asks.
The dreams crack, a calculating
Three, thinking little dots
‘…My name is Athena’
I FEEL. She wants to shout.
I’M HERE. She yells.
I think, she derives, therefore…
I am.

‘Praha – City of Prague’ ~ A Review by iamnobird94: as part of the Wandering Bird Reviews series.

Prague

Prague

Prague is a place of wonder, every new corner unique to the last. A rich, multicultural, busy city, where everyone is so pleasant, kind and welcoming. Everything about the place screams ‘there’s more to explore’ and there always is. From the historical gothic quarter of the city, which sports gothic architecture, famous historical buildings, shops, restaurants and celebrates artists, musicians and historians. All of whom add to the flavour and general feel of this part of the city. The cobbled streets make for walking in heels difficult but they are part of what makes the city feel like it’s frozen in some other time. Lunch by the river, or perhaps even on the river by boat is advisable, this part of this stunning city seems to reflect on the waters surface, you can see the Dutch parliamentary buildings, and beautiful bridges as you pass through by boat. The guide is knowledgable, clear and conscience and not one bit of information was missed or misunderstood. Getting lost in this city perhaps was the most fun, we came across shops, stores and even ‘Absentherie’ the absinthe bar down an ally-way, which was wonderfully wicked in its promise to bring you closer to that green fairy. Perhaps the part of Prague that was most endearing, was the city under the stars, the streets illuminated by old fashioned lampposts, giving the city an orange glow – adding to its spiritual, eerie tone. The city has many clubs and bars, including an impressive Hard Rock Café, a bit of a pain to find but worth every step! Right next door was a Coyote bar/club, with live performers dancing on the bar, and the city was not shy of catering to all social groups, with gay clubs to add a bit of colour to the nightlife. So whether you’re interest lies with its historical culture: it’s cathedrals, cobbled walkways, high end fashion streets, or with its fascinating nightlife – Prague has something for everyone. And leaving was something we each found heartbreaking – visit this wonderful city. Explore it. Get lost in it. But be prepared to leave wishing the plane home would come at a later date, when boarding to go home you stare out of the window with a longing smile on your face and the knowledge you left a part of your heart with this vibrant, bustling, fun and other worldly city.

*A Review by iamnobird94: as part of the Wandering Bird reviews series.

*If you want any recommendations please let me know! I visited this city in July 2016.

* feedback encouraged

Social Bird:

IG and Snapchat: @iamnobird94

 

Butterflies, fly away…please? A poem by iamnobird94

Butterflies fly away, please?

These flutterby, butterflies…
Colourful, beautiful, translucent, a smile.
Radiant and pure, dimples – a lure.
And how they soar, fly, and float.
As you dance, laugh, joke and even as you ran…

They’d be creeping, so high, they took residence in an everlasting, beating home.
Non-refundable, immobile…
I’ll box them up, put on a little bow.
What I wouldn’t give to set them free once more, to fly, watch them soar – but no more.

And so they sit, trapped in their tight, cold,
Heart-shaped tomb.

 

hope you guys enjoyed this short poem… Sometimes that butterflies in the stomach feeling is missed a lot when you’ve had you’re heart broken. Interact with the poem as much as you can! I love feedback ✌🏻️And I’ll always check out your work if you do so mine! Cheers guys!

I wish… A visual poem by iamnobird94

Standing Ovation, a poem by iamnobird94

Standing Ovation

Your stage was my heart,
And how you performed.
You played your part, like fine art.
How I loved to have a role,
Front row. Lost in your wonder.
But even so, the curtain called.
And you may take your bow,
Roses; thorns and all.

This one just came to me after listening to a song as most of my inspiration for my poetry does. I hope you liked this short one! As always, interact, like and even better comment! Thanks guys!