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What Is Life?Life is a spark that is inextinguishable and it goes on.
Like a river it has twists and turns.
It's an explosion of passion, rage, and lust rolled into one.
It's beauty is unrivaled .
It can be as horrifying as death.
It's warm like fire
but can be cold as ice .
With Nature at its helm
there is no telling where
It will end up.
Life is a text that is illegible to even the best po

Raindrops

You see the storm
coming on the horizon.
You're immobile with fear.
The lightning flashes revealing all your flaws.
Their words hurt like claws.
Your beginning to lose hope, and the rain begins to fall.
Dont let them get to you.
They're just jealous and enjoy watching you suffer.
There's always a rainbow at the end of the storm.
You sit in your corner wishing the storm would go away.
The tears begin to fall like a million raindrops.
Your heart is ripping itself apart.
But the thunder only gets louder, the lightning
flashes brighter.
The rain comes pouring down.
Never give up even when everything
seems hopeless.

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More from *sApPH1repo3t

Art Of LoveChances are like grasping grains
Of sand that slip through your fingers.
In the Art Of Love one should never hesitate
Because in the blink of an eye, faster than
The flapping wings of a hummingbird
A chance can fly away.
In the Art Of Love you haven’t the time to strategize
For an unknown enemy may be one step ahead of you.
There are no victors in the Art Of Love for there
Is always a price to pay.

MusicLike a drug addict's
needle music elicits
pleasure within the
very depths of the soul.
It pulls the strings
of emotion like a
puppeteer .
The melodies are like
stitches that closes the
lacerations that life has
cut into the fragile heart.

The RosaryIt was a pleasant
feeling, to believe that
someone watched over
me but like a
sand castle built
to close to the
sea my
faith began to
crumble away.
The book that
I considered
holy is now a
book of lies.
Now the rosary
sits in a
box gathering
dust never to
be worn again.

ChangeNothing lasts and nothing is forever
Whether it be monuments or the
Written word, everything eventually
crumbles to dust. Holy texts become
Myths, young lovers grow old and
Wither away. Countries rise like
a phoenix reborn only to collapse.
Warm hands turn to ice and kind smiles
turn to venomous hate. From the
first snowfall to the first day of spring
everything is in a constant change
with nothing staying the same.

DarknessWhen I was young and naïve
Darkness I feared.
A dim nightlight my
Only solace. A childish
Fear soon transformed into
A spear and shield.
It became my Novocain
In the light, all I saw
Were the scars but once the
Sun sets and the moon rises
I feel alive, all burdens
Seem to lift, and I am
Cast adrift from a corrupt world.

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Submitted: January 9
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Black Rose

by *sApPH1repo3t, Jan 9, 2013, 10:23:26 AM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

I found the rose in early September
The petals were ruby red and
it had the most beautiful stem.
It gave me just what I was lacking
The rose's warmth filled my every pore
down to my heart's core.
A dead heart began to beat once more.
I desired that rose and I almost picked it.
But I stopped and walked away.
In my absence another found the rose,
by the time I returned, it was gone.
I learned that day that even
the most delicate roses have thorns.
Now when I think of it I no longer think
of it as a red rose
I only see a Black Rose.