The underground poet
May I have your attention please.
If you would like to view some wonderful new poetry, you are in the right place. Sit back relax and ease your mind to The underground poet. If you have a passion for poetry like me, you'll love my web page. I welcome all who wish to contribute to this page please e-mail me at dshiell@mail.com. I would love to read your poems and help you share your talent with others (not all poetry will be selected for this page). Here's some poetry from my upcomming book. If you are interested in owning a copy of this book intitled the The undergroung poet ($5.45), I can also be reached at dshiell@mail.com. Please relax and enjoy the easy reading, of The underground poet. Read on...... Read on.......
Paint my room no color of gray
Paint my room no color of gray, no color of black, no color of white. Give me color with substance to fill my soul, as I walk, as I peer into the light.
I need color to chase away the blue, chase away my gloom, and give me a sight of fresh and new.
Give me color of red, orange, green, bronze, and gold. Let them be placed for my eyes too behold.
Warm me up, cooool me down, with the sweet look of color. O color… where has it gone? Is it in a bind, or has color has it escaped for neutralities find where I view color of gray, black, and white.
Color my room and release me, from their sight. Release me from the blah, from the silence, from the plight, of these dreary colors. I do not wish to have my room any other way.
So please pant my room no color of gray.
WAVES OF WATER
Waves of water rush over me.
Waves of water push me to the sea.
Waves of water take me away.
Waves of water wash my sins today.
Waves of water to and fro. Waves of water hanging low. Waves of water from a distant land.
Waves of water trickle wave’s sand.
Waves of water catch my tears.
Waves of water calm my fears. Waves of water too deep to see.
Waves of water rush over me.
Rain
Drip, drop… Drip, drop… Can you hear it? Did you here that? Sounds like rain, sounds like pain; it’s like the sounds of distress. Crash… Bang… I can here it… The sound of crying, sound of trying, the sound of rain… as it drips, and drops on the window pane.
It creeks the bones, and it clears the mind, it can almost rattle the fabric of time. What is it about the rain? It brings us much gain, but every time we still get that feeling every time it rains we still get that feeling every time it rains. It can make you think of good times, and times we wish we could forget. Rain is friend and foe, loved and debated, never used for full benefit. Sang for another day, and deeply contemplated away. Rain…
Fashion
Miss fit… Diva… These are the words of the fashion queen.
Can you fit in that scene, can you hang with the model supreme. What are you willing to do to be fashion, to have fashion, to play the part? Will you surrender your heart, will you give your body over for fashion, who will discard you when your old, cold, and lonely. Don’t be the tool who gets used this way, fashion is selfish, it wants the young, the beautiful, the rich, and all the money your willing to pay. Be yourself, love yourself, Don’t be lead astray because you are confused. The only thing that makes you special, that will regulate your worth, is you, you on the inside. Once you take that in, that is when you will truly be happy, others will see the beauty you possess, and you will be relived from the drama, and stress of fashion.
Radio girl
Radio girl is a girl I new, a girl a lot like me. Who looks just so and has just so, but is too blind to see. Radio girl is a lonely soul who just whishes, just wishes she could be. Be normal, be cool, and be just like the ones with stars in their eyes, which she sees. She looks the part, and she looks so smart, and always dressed to the T. But don’t be fooled; don’t be led by systematic company. She has become a tool, a muse of society. She is blind, blind, eternally. She has become something she vowed never to be, a pawn, one of the used. To be thrown out in days end due to loss of elasticity. But I have hope in her, I have faith, she can be happy with who she is, and unlock her blindfold key, because you know radio girl is a lot like me.
All rights of poetry are property of the author of the underground poet, Desiree Shiell. Any use of the poems found on this web page, or the book under poet are the sole property of the author, and cannot be used with out written consent.
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