Tear Drops part II

The poetry that I have been reviewing has the themes that I have been looking for. Each little poem expresses the idea that I want readers to understand. Tear Drops are more than specks of water falling down from people’s faces. Tear Drops is what we let go and have a past of us that grows stronger. Tear Drops then creates individuals to ponder about life and whether or not it was good or bad. One of the authors in Tear Drops is Edgar Allan Poe. He is one of my favorite poetry writers because he expresses what we feel and how the words can fool with our emotions. It's seems that every end of a sentence words rhyme but not for the joy however but for the deeper meaning. Other poems that I have entered are ones that I wrote and is available online as well in books. These poems however is actually pieces of memories fading away just like parts of the body.

The Valley of the Unrest

Once it smiled a silent dell Where the people did not dwell; They had gone unto the wars, Trusting to the mild-eyed stars, Nightly, from their azure towers, To keep watch above the flowers, In the midst of which all day The red sunlight lazily lay. Now each visitor shall confess The sad valley's restlessness. Nothing there is motionless- Nothing save the airs that brood Over the magic solitude. Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees That palpitate like the chill seas Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven That rustle through the unquiet Heaven Uneasily, from morn till even, Over the violets there that lie In myriad types of the human eye- Over the lilies there that wave And weep above a nameless grave! They wave:- from out their fragrant tops Eternal dews come down in drops. They weep:- from off their delicate stems Perennial tears descend in gems. Edgar Allan Poe http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/valley-of-unrest-the/ To-- The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see The wantonest singing birds, Are lips- and all thy melody Of lip-begotten words- Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined, Then desolately fall, O God! on my funereal mind Like starlight on a pall- Thy heart- thy heart!- I wake and sigh, And sleep to dream till day Of the truth that gold can never buy- Of the baubles that it may. Edgar Allan Poe http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to/ Spirits of the Dead Thy soul shall find itself alone 'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone; Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy. Be silent in that solitude, Which is not loneliness- for then The spirits of the dead, who stood In life before thee, are again In death around thee, and their will Shall overshadow thee; be still. The night, though clear, shall frown, And the stars shall not look down From their high thrones in the Heaven With light like hope to mortals given, But their red orbs, without beam, To thy weariness shall seem As a burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever. Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish, Now are visions ne'er to vanish; From thy spirit shall they pass No more, like dew-drop from the grass. The breeze, the breath of God, is still, And the mist upon the hill Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken, Is a symbol and a token. How it hangs upon the trees, A mystery of mysteries! Edgar Allan Poe http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spirits-of-the-dead/

Fighting Flames

by Luisa Sanluis

It has been 10 years since that awful day.
My family couldn't pay this kind of price.
I could still see the images of my nightmare.
If only my mother would care.
Each day and night my siblings would always fight.
So it is hard to go to bed.
Now before I pray,
I see the future of mine up in flames.
I might not be alive anymore.
So why can't I just lay and wait for death.
My heart is wealth but the rest is just
dirt. http://www.poetry.com/poems/fighting-flames/1278983/

Forgotten Soul

by Luisa Sanluis

Each mourning I wake up with stabs on my back.
Each one falling to my broken heart.
I think "Why am I still Here?!"
Havent I suffered enough already?
Am I being tested for a task? or
Am I being watch for amusement for others?
As I look in the mirror of my bathroom,
I see a shadow fading toward the light.
A new chapter is being written and yet
I do not understand why I havent read it yet.
The shadow is my soul and now it is being forgotten
by those who used to care about me.
Will I be remembered?
Or will I be another Book on the sheleves of an abandon library?

http://www.poetry.com/poems/forgotten-soul/6621769/