Pages Poems - Poems about Pages

The blank page waits. Not empty! full of words not yet written, poems not yet born. Every line holds a secret, every space a song. I stare at white paper and see everything I could say but haven't said yet. The page is patient. It knows some thing wants to come out. All the poems that might be live here in the quiet before the first word falls....

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In an old book, with torn pages, my soul navigates through labyrinths of dreams, seeking the hidden story in the silence between the lines, where words were never written, I try to fill the gaps with the silence of stars dancing on the sky of oblivion, believing I understand the story that flows like an unseen river through...

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Why can’t we learn beforehand life lessons we learn afterwards Not grounded in experience words fly off the pages like birds ...

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R-eading E-very B-ook's E-ducational C-ontent C-learly A-dds B-rilliant U-nderstanding, E-nhancing R-eason A-nd N-ew O-utlook ©bfa060125 Monocrostic (Birthday of Rebecca Buerano)...

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Before midnight ticks, I turn to my interior world , One that cradles myrhh of reminisces and sagas, Allowing breaths to inhale the agony and radiance of loved ones' trails now beyond my physical reach-- Watching the decrepit portraits on the foyer, July air greets the dew on blossoms, monarchs flitting in my...

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As my words "cascade" off my tongue, onto the "myriad" of blank pages. Each letter will slowly "slither," slither into a "serpentine" of sentences. As I stop to read, will the pages "lilt" to me? With tired eyes I see a "nebula" bright night, as I look out my huge window at the "lunar" light....

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Pages turn, as new cycles start, Agree with our Maker, hear His heart. In our daily solitary space, Step beyond and hear the sound of the race. See anew, learn to relate afresh, If doubt remains, do not rush! Press in prayer, let persistent faith arise, And watch the impossible vaporize. Reposition our hearts, stride onwards ahead, Claim the inheritance for which we were...

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tuesday morning, pages 78 and 79 pulled back on the book i was reading as if its yawn was bigger than the one i had borrowed from you only an hour earlier we both laughed remembering the days when you touched one elbow to the other behind your back and challenged me knowing it would never happen it was raining when you left then looked...

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If you knew the weight I bear, You'd hear the screams beneath my stare. I light the dark yet feel so cold, Like a silent tale that's never told. Of shining silver and glittering gold, Of a burning past in letters bold. It has been long, it has been ages, since a soul has touched these unread pages....

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the pages of my diary hold the memories- memories of you being cold and warm, memories of that mysterious smirk, and the day you deserted me i unfurled the white flag and surrendered on my knees you started this war and kept on stabbing me this war is our love affair illicit from the moment it began yet, i believed in you and 'this love' still...

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i stitched my heart into quiet lines, shared them here one post at a time but this isn’t just a page it’s a place i begin a dream once whispered now asking for wings Friends! I've created an Instagram page and it's - almost.thirty.barely.grown I also have a GoFundMe going for my debut book which I will need help funding! I will share the link here,...

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I never reached out for your hand— Fingers interlacing, hearts intertwining. My words blistered on my tongue, And I tucked the unanswered glances Back into silence, Like love letters never sent. What do I do with the love I couldn't give? I'll bleed it onto blank white pages, Ink running from my arteries. My stanzas will contain The glory of my memories, And my metaphors...

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it must be so hard to be perfectly at peace but clear skins still scarred and perfect pages become creased...

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I slowly detach, like ink seeping onto pages of lost memories, like a song slowly fading from the mind that once swore it eternal, everything begins gently—your name on my lips becomes a foreign echo, your messages remain unread, not out of anger, but from fear of the unknown. You place silence where questions once were, perhaps you don't...

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I don't leave all at once, but slip away like ink running off old pages, Like a song you swore you'd never forget, until you do. It starts small—your name becomes foreign on my lips, Your messages remain unread, not out of anger, but from a strange helplessness. You don't ask why, maybe you don't notice, or maybe you...

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