POETRY With Mia Isabella - Share Yours

[MiaIsabella1985]

a fellow poet.
very nice.

have u checked out Brave New Voices on HBO?

my new favorite show.

I actually havnt seen that show but I did see the previews and the speakers seem to be very powerfull in expressing their writing vocally

[Alyssa87]

a fellow poet.
very nice.

have u checked out Brave New Voices on HBO?

my new favorite show.

I actually havnt seen that show but I did see the previews and the speakers seem to be very powerfull in expressing their writing vocally

its inspiring really.
a good poem, slammed correctly- is like catching the holy ghost.

i REALLY like your poem, Mia.
I searched thru my stuff to find something similar that you might like...

(To HA: i AM NOT looking for criticism.
i am not a performing or published poet. and im not looking to be)

(About a Man)
I don't write poems about boys and men.
Despite attraction- internally, I resent them.
Beneath it all, I know what they intend
A guaranteed freak, a secret Tgirlfriend.
They're the same boys I went to school with
Before I came to be who I am today.
That intimidated and alienated me.
But that's another poem entirely, ok?
They're just grown up versions
Who have taken a liking to my bodily changes.
So I'm conflicted about the ghetto messes
After sexual exchanges.
Therefore, how dare I taint my artistry?
Which has carried me, miraculously
Through turbulence- consistently…
With those who have no regard for me?

But this recognizes something special.
He's no ghetto mess. Trust me.
Embodying virtues of rarity,
He has inspired me to contemplate on him- poetically.
I'm not a lesser version of myself when I'm with him
He prefers me- wholly. And reciprocates honesty.
I'm prompted to be a better me. Knowing I have someone looking at me expectantly.
He sees my greatness. And encourages excellence- though perhaps unknowingly.
To my genuine surprise, he kisses me with open eyes.
Peering into my consciousness, where my laws of physics are defied.
He makes love to me past my being
I close my eyes and I exhale
And experience a bliss, unparallel.
He captivates me with his very ideology.
I often am shocked how similarly we perceive things
Being that I regard myself philosophically eccentric,
How fitting it is that this is what the universe brings.
Star-crossed lovers.
Shakespeare never did resonate like this.
I found his pictures of romance overstated
But perchance!… they exist.
It's better than storybooks though.
Fantasy doesn't cloud what's real.
He's my man. And what a man he is
For inciting what I've come to feel.

[yodajazz]

a fellow poet.
very nice.

have u checked out Brave New Voices on HBO?

my new favorite show.

I actually havnt seen that show but I did see the previews and the speakers seem to be very powerfull in expressing their writing vocally

its inspiring really.
a good poem, slammed correctly- is like catching the holy ghost.

i REALLY like your poem, Mia.
I searched thru my stuff to find something similar that you might like...

(To HA: i AM NOT looking for criticism.
i am not a performing or published poet. and im not looking to be)

(About a Man)
I don't write poems about boys and men.
Despite attraction- internally, I resent them.
Beneath it all, I know what they intend
A guaranteed freak, a secret Tgirlfriend.
They're the same boys I went to school with
Before I came to be who I am today.
That intimidated and alienated me.
But that's another poem entirely, ok?
They're just grown up versions
Who have taken a liking to my bodily changes.
So I'm conflicted about the ghetto messes
After sexual exchanges.
Therefore, how dare I taint my artistry?
Which has carried me, miraculously
Through turbulence- consistently…
With those who have no regard for me?

But this recognizes something special.
He's no ghetto mess. Trust me.
Embodying virtues of rarity,
He has inspired me to contemplate on him- poetically.
I'm not a lesser version of myself when I'm with him
He prefers me- wholly. And reciprocates honesty.
I'm prompted to be a better me. Knowing I have someone looking at me expectantly.
He sees my greatness. And encourages excellence- though perhaps unknowingly.
To my genuine surprise, he kisses me with open eyes.
Peering into my consciousness, where my laws of physics are defied.
He makes love to me past my being
I close my eyes and I exhale
And experience a bliss, unparallel.
He captivates me with his very ideology.
I often am shocked how similarly we perceive things
Being that I regard myself philosophically eccentric,
How fitting it is that this is what the universe brings.
Star-crossed lovers.
Shakespeare never did resonate like this.
I found his pictures of romance overstated
But perchance!… they exist.
It's better than storybooks though.
Fantasy doesn't cloud what's real.
He's my man. And what a man he is
For inciting what I've come to feel.

Thank sincerely Mia, for sharing your poetic thoughts, in verse. Alyssa87 you are a true poet. I remember being inpressed with something that you post a while back in the stories section. However, I am posting a poem which could be considered an anwer to your excellent poem.

Him Instead of Me

Its such a pleasure to see a beautiful woman in love
The look in your eyes sends my heart to the skies up above
A more lucky man, there just can’t be
I just wish that instead of him, it was me.

Such a beauty you are, but I see your heart on your sleeve.
You could get any man to ask for your hand, I believe.
Now our chances with you are slim.
Because the warmth of your affection; it shines on him.

Well I don’t mean to pry, but I can’t help that you catch my eye.
Love gives you a look that just doesn’t lie.
It’s just so amazing to see a soul fly.

But I wonder how long a show like this will run.
Because I wonder for him, if you’re really number one.
But whatever your number may be, he’s got your number; that I can see
I just wish that instead of him it was me.

[a994]

That's a good poem, Mia.

So, who are your favorite poets?


As for me, here's a poem I wrote over a year ago:

Fall 1982

Soundtrack
gongs gently
blow in the breeze

Billowy clouds cover
the cerulean ceiling
coolness of atmosphere

Flashback
Fall 1982
sophomore high school
pale sweater Houston afternoon sky
overcast Design marker cool grays

Everything a Design
Pantone
Magic Marker drawing
thin black Illustrator pen lines
radio oozing pushing
grunting out Phil Collins
office music synth notes
pale jade green sweater day
cool air for once
scented with xylene for some
cocaine for others
and vehicle exhaust for all

Falling
minutes pass
radio no longer on polyester
office mode
Other hands have
switched the station
speakers now spraying
Nasty Attack of the
Electric Beat It Avenue
Billie Jean You Don't Love
Me Anymore
Subdivisions Ain't Gonna
Break-A-My Stride Vacation
into the air
that I ignore
entranced
by the clouds
that promise rain
and deliver contentment

But only for moments
that and no more
as I do not have
the Design
Pantone
Magic Markers
to place onto paper
and translate for eyes
(including my own)
how I feel about this
and any other
day

[bte]

-Pieces (One Day)-

One
Day
This temple will erode
But today it will stand another day
But when will it start to crumble down?

We built this place
Stone by stone
We constructed our palace of happiness
Now it filled with malice

One day,
This temple will crumble down
One day,
This temple will cease to exist
One day…

We lay in the chamber of love,
But what happened to it now?
Blood decorate the walls
Please dear, just let me fall
Into this sweet oblivion

At first I said that I don’t want to feel this overwhelming hostility
I said that I don’t want to feel this overwhelming hostility
Hostility

Now I’m swaying
In the trees
Through the breeze
Trying to filter out my memories
Of this past life
My own life
You keep on killing me

Now I’m swaying
In the trees
Through the breeze
Why are you killing me
I gave you everything
That I could possibly could ever give you…

We were catastrophic lovers
Deep in the covers
Wrapped in this shield of love
I know that the pieces fit
Cause I watch them slowly tumble down
Though no fault that could separate
We have pointed the finger at each other
Refused to let our souls uncovered
The one key of detrimental
What we needed was communication

Now I’m swaying in the trees
My body filtering through the breeze
This rope is your words that is choking my throat
Constricting all I ever known

One day,
This temple will erode
But will it stand another day?
One day,
This temple will crumble down
And there will be nothing left.

[MiaIsabella1985]

a fellow poet.
very nice.

have u checked out Brave New Voices on HBO?

my new favorite show.

I actually havnt seen that show but I did see the previews and the speakers seem to be very powerfull in expressing their writing vocally

its inspiring really.
a good poem, slammed correctly- is like catching the holy ghost.

i REALLY like your poem, Mia.
I searched thru my stuff to find something similar that you might like...

(To HA: i AM NOT looking for criticism.
i am not a performing or published poet. and im not looking to be)

(About a Man)
I don't write poems about boys and men.
Despite attraction- internally, I resent them.
Beneath it all, I know what they intend
A guaranteed freak, a secret Tgirlfriend.
They're the same boys I went to school with
Before I came to be who I am today.
That intimidated and alienated me.
But that's another poem entirely, ok?
They're just grown up versions
Who have taken a liking to my bodily changes.
So I'm conflicted about the ghetto messes
After sexual exchanges.
Therefore, how dare I taint my artistry?
Which has carried me, miraculously
Through turbulence- consistently…
With those who have no regard for me?

But this recognizes something special.
He's no ghetto mess. Trust me.
Embodying virtues of rarity,
He has inspired me to contemplate on him- poetically.
I'm not a lesser version of myself when I'm with him
He prefers me- wholly. And reciprocates honesty.
I'm prompted to be a better me. Knowing I have someone looking at me expectantly.
He sees my greatness. And encourages excellence- though perhaps unknowingly.
To my genuine surprise, he kisses me with open eyes.
Peering into my consciousness, where my laws of physics are defied.
He makes love to me past my being
I close my eyes and I exhale
And experience a bliss, unparallel.
He captivates me with his very ideology.
I often am shocked how similarly we perceive things
Being that I regard myself philosophically eccentric,
How fitting it is that this is what the universe brings.
Star-crossed lovers.
Shakespeare never did resonate like this.
I found his pictures of romance overstated
But perchance!… they exist.
It's better than storybooks though.
Fantasy doesn't cloud what's real.
He's my man. And what a man he is
For inciting what I've come to feel.

You are one hell of a writer . . . I mean I wrote that poem when I was 18 years old and was still a virgin with no experience but with much desire, and if I were to write how I felt reflecting on that poem currently in my life It would have never been said better than how you described it.

BRAVO

[Alyssa87]

a fellow poet.
very nice.

have u checked out Brave New Voices on HBO?

my new favorite show.

I actually havnt seen that show but I did see the previews and the speakers seem to be very powerfull in expressing their writing vocally

its inspiring really.
a good poem, slammed correctly- is like catching the holy ghost.

i REALLY like your poem, Mia.
I searched thru my stuff to find something similar that you might like...

(To HA: i AM NOT looking for criticism.
i am not a performing or published poet. and im not looking to be)

(About a Man)
I don't write poems about boys and men.
Despite attraction- internally, I resent them.
Beneath it all, I know what they intend
A guaranteed freak, a secret Tgirlfriend.
They're the same boys I went to school with
Before I came to be who I am today.
That intimidated and alienated me.
But that's another poem entirely, ok?
They're just grown up versions
Who have taken a liking to my bodily changes.
So I'm conflicted about the ghetto messes
After sexual exchanges.
Therefore, how dare I taint my artistry?
Which has carried me, miraculously
Through turbulence- consistently…
With those who have no regard for me?

But this recognizes something special.
He's no ghetto mess. Trust me.
Embodying virtues of rarity,
He has inspired me to contemplate on him- poetically.
I'm not a lesser version of myself when I'm with him
He prefers me- wholly. And reciprocates honesty.
I'm prompted to be a better me. Knowing I have someone looking at me expectantly.
He sees my greatness. And encourages excellence- though perhaps unknowingly.
To my genuine surprise, he kisses me with open eyes.
Peering into my consciousness, where my laws of physics are defied.
He makes love to me past my being
I close my eyes and I exhale
And experience a bliss, unparallel.
He captivates me with his very ideology.
I often am shocked how similarly we perceive things
Being that I regard myself philosophically eccentric,
How fitting it is that this is what the universe brings.
Star-crossed lovers.
Shakespeare never did resonate like this.
I found his pictures of romance overstated
But perchance!… they exist.
It's better than storybooks though.
Fantasy doesn't cloud what's real.
He's my man. And what a man he is
For inciting what I've come to feel.

Thank sincerely Mia, for sharing your poetic thoughts, in verse. Alyssa87 you are a true poet. I remember being inpressed with something that you post a while back in the stories section. However, I am posting a poem which could be considered an anwer to your excellent poem.

Him Instead of Me

Its such a pleasure to see a beautiful woman in love
The look in your eyes sends my heart to the skies up above
A more lucky man, there just can’t be
I just wish that instead of him, it was me.

Such a beauty you are, but I see your heart on your sleeve.
You could get any man to ask for your hand, I believe.
Now our chances with you are slim.
Because the warmth of your affection; it shines on him.

Well I don’t mean to pry, but I can’t help that you catch my eye.
Love gives you a look that just doesn’t lie.
It’s just so amazing to see a soul fly.

But I wonder how long a show like this will run.
Because I wonder for him, if you’re really number one.
But whatever your number may be, he’s got your number; that I can see
I just wish that instead of him it was me.

was that off the top of your head?
or was it written previously, and you just posted it like i did?

You are one hell of a writer . . . I mean I wrote that poem when I was 18 years old and was still a virgin with no experience but with much desire, and if I were to write how I felt reflecting on that poem currently in my life It would have never been said better than how you described it.

BRAVO

wow thanks.
i'm glad you liked it missy

[MiaIsabella1985]

It's a very sad poem. I find the process of writing poetry can help deal with stressful situations, can be very revealing and is much more important than the result.

Thanks for sharing.

Well the poem wasnt really meant to be sad really, it was more a reflection of me being young and desiring to be intimate with a man you could stimulate me in all the ways I wanted but also kinding telling myself that if I did indeed get what I wanted would it really be what I would have imagined it to be and leave me disappointed.

I was just a young virgin

[BLKGSXR]

My needle

The way it happened at first
we took at turn for the worst-
it wasn't expected.

She tried to fight me again,
so I'm letting her win-
I'm not defending my actions.

I'm heading down to the market,
and I'm just going to park it
-until they open,

because its just after four and some idiot whore
has ruined my night.

So, I had to walk walk-walk-
16 blocks,
just to get some comfort,

and now a cop's pulling-up,
I'm about to get fucked;
-I just wanted some comfort.

-
Needle in the hay..
I'm the needle in hay wherever I go.

Needle in the hay
Needle in the hay
I'm the needle in hay wherever I go

and I'm not defending my actions,
you ought to leave me alone,
because I'm not defending my actions.


I'm just the needle in hay,
a simple needle in hay
so you ought to be careful...

or you are the needle in hay-
You are the needle in hay
like a pin lying in wait, like a pile of too many problems.
-

You laughed at his jokes
touching his clothes
while everyone's laughing.

I can't be myself
around everyone else
when I'm watching this happen,

I just need some time
to be alone,
so I hope that nobody wants me.

...
...


Back at home
and I'm almost alone;
if she'd stay out of my way.

I can't talk right now
there's no talking this out
I'm simply sick of your actions

You're the needle in hay,
a needle in hay,
a bitch with too many problems.
-


Then some days passed by;
a new phase comes by-

She wants out of my life.


I'm not okay;
I'm not okay.
Now I need you out of my life.

I said, "I'm not okay;
no, I'm not okay.
Now you are relieved from my life."

You can leave me alone,
just leave me alone,
I'm not defending my actions.

You can leave me alone;
you can leave me alone;
because there's no defending your actions.


-
You are a needle in hay
a needle in a hay
and I'm not sifting through problems.

Needless to say-
a needle in hay,
is the least of my problems.

I said that needless to say,
sadly, my needle in hay,
might just be the least of my problems...

Pulled from the depths of my old writings....

[Alyssa87]

My needle

...

on behalf of all the needles out there, i understand.