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djmejia2011's profile
AGE:
18
LOC: Capitol Heights, MD
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: June 20
LOC: Capitol Heights, MD
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: June 20
my name is David Mejia, i’m currently attending the University of Maryland, i enjoy writing poetry in english and spanish, i’m the kind of person that can get inspired by the sound of wind on a storm to the tender heat of a canddle vigil, i’m really a guy thats always trying to reach stars in the middle of the day and light in the middle of the night. i like the way i write and many of my friends also liked my poetry, i’m currently thinking of writing a book with all my poems and hopefully all of the poems of my best friend ivania.
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a crazy poet, dark in light and white in dark pure heart, yet anger is deep in his gut. his best companion, a dead rock he found while walking by the grey river at night. the poet knew three things love, hate, and lust his best guard and shield a self made hope to one day find his love amor. in one hand his mind was leaking dreams into the wind. in the other his life, filled with numerous wounds. the false love had done its job with lies knives a wolf had eaten almost all of it, he still liv...
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if you could imagine a blossom just turning red, a butterfly burning to a yellowish amber. and two little girls sited next to a fire thats freezing each other hands, then polluted the world is not, let me get dress and leave every nightmare there is. But if you rather see demons of white cloth and red eyes. with wings bigger than any bird and voices strong as trains then welcome to my house, i hope you make yourself comfortable this is me the one with the golden letter on the stone... ... yea...
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a crazy poet, dark in light and white in dark pure heart, yet anger is deep in his gut. his best companion, a dead rock he found while walking by the grey river at night. the poet knew three things love, hate, and lust his best guard and shield a self made hope to one day find his love amor. in one hand his mind was leaking dreams into the wind. in the other his life, filled with numerous wounds. the false love had done its job with lies knives a wolf had eaten almost all of it, he still liv...
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there is a bird on my window, black, white, shadow two wings and well sharp mind just looking at me Through that fine glass i wonder its thoughts it looks at me, no its laughing at the wind his sound is fine yet so full of wisdom you are tempted to close the damn window. once i come closer, a shadow is all its left moving from north to south its as if an orchestra is about to start. now there is not a bird in my window but the memory of its mighty anthem.
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i was asking why, my words are not clicking right. why, when time to write is put down by my own time. when i feel the need to let you know how my poetry is so low. how i'm just a lame dummy writing in weird sentences. how my own time is wasted by my stupid rhymes. its time for me to find a better source of inspiration than smelling weird roses which make my nose cry.
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i like the different words you use instead of making the lines boring. there is drama on each line, the description gave me a clear picture of the background.
the flow is really nice is like if you are sliding on ice "smooth" part 2 is the best. "Oh, what’s it like to be a drop of water, In the oasis of forgotten memories? " just a nice ending
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