Shameca Biggs

Shameca Biggs Poems

Echoes of loneliness was his name.
Words and Story was the game.
We fell in and out of prose.
He the Thorn; I the rose.

He came back to me.
Back to the place where we fell apart.
Back to this aching bleeding heart.

Dear Dark knight and black warrior,
Sitting here I now realize the ramifications of my sins.
Sometimes we have to lose just to win.
In finding my heart I lost my goal.

You know there's something wrong when you're the soft to his strong. When he's the wrong in your right. The dark in your light.

And yet still you are pulled to him.

Like a feverish hunger; the need to touch and be touch sizzles and thrives.

It's sharp sting of awareness buzzing inside me as the bees and their hives.

Black and blue surround me and I hurt all over again.
My sorrow times ten.
I’ve considered reaching out for comfort, but no one understands. They’ll never be ‘that man’.
He’s all I see.

Lyrics of a song dance in my head, his scent still lingers and covers my bed
A simple request sent as a prayer for salvation, answered with the test of all his creation.
Do you love me enough to sacrifice? I know I want to but will not pay the price.
A life for a life and a fate for a fate, but I would not trade my window for his gate.

In the dismal gloom where black and gray entwine to birth a fog
I sit and ponder, sweat coating my brow in dread
Of those sinful deeds done, of those bitter things said
All the decided actions of my life recorded on a celestial log

Your silence compels me to scream; instead I whimper
Your distance compels me to cling; instead I simmer
Your laughter compels me to melt; instead I hide
Your touch compels me to hunger; Still I cling to my pride

Time creeps ever so slowly, and in that time there's you.
Outside of that time there's two.
Below and above that time there's few.
Two paths; few possibilities that I'll ever choose one.


The happiness was always coupled with sorrow.
And yet the sorrow was gentle and quiet.
No matter the day, the hour, the yesterday, the today or tomorrow.

You don't feel the ache until it's all over.
It swells and writhes, consuming the mind.
You thought you had plenty of time.
One minute life's a rose, the next a three leaf clover.

It started with blood, sweat and tears.
The pain of the thrill being lost after years.
The pleasure of the hunt, the capture, the frills.
Fighting the plight of each valley after the hills.

To Sound, to wind in the pattering rain
To Love's sacrifice and to Passions of Hate
To the slave and to the free
To the "I's" and the "We"


Notes channeling pathways of stimuli through my brain.
Beats pouring; their thumping roaring.

A synchronized army of undulating movement.

Blood. Water. Wine.
In and out of Time.

Bleeding for the Cause.

Forever striving to become. Perpetually in a state of becoming.

When a problem arises, it's like facing a slammed door.

Scrambling in search of a solution, you're then thrown one more.

I roll down the river lightly afloat.

Eyes closed, nostrils flared, while humming the melody of the waters.

I'm cold. It's dark. I'm blind.
I end up at this place every time. My end of the line.

I keep waiting for the cord to snap.

Shameca Biggs Biography

Began writing short stories and poetry as a pre-adolescent and continued throughout grade school. Attended Halls Cross Roads Elementary school in Aberdeen Maryland and graduated from Naaman Forest High School in Garland, Texas in 2004 with honors. Was raised and baptized into the Church of Christ and have been a firm believer all of my adult life. Other enjoyable hobbies and activities I'm involved in include singing, reading and watching, action/adventure and fantasy books and movies, dancing and listening to Alternative Rock, Electro House, Dubstep, Hip Hop and R&B music. I'm driven by my passion and compassion for people, purpose, family and truth. Expressive in all that I do I continue to live out my life as vibrantly and whole heartedly as possible appreciating the art of words, sound and substance.)

The Best Poem Of Shameca Biggs

Lonely Echoes

Echoes of loneliness was his name.
Words and Story was the game.
We fell in and out of prose.
He the Thorn; I the rose.

She was graceful but cold.
A falling snowflake.
Regal yet rigid; both young and old.
She entered my heart & shook my soul only to forsake.
Her cruelty like Poetry In Motion, too harsh to mold.

Then there was the Joy Demon in all his charm.
Psychotically sweet; warned with all the bells & alarms.
I rode the waves of the ocean with him anyway.
Kissed his feet just to be held in his arms.

Another demon dressed in white.
Another cold and star less night.
Another lover with another plight.
Another darkness to smote out the light.

And through it all; the lion, the wolf and the tiger.
The swan, the dove and the spider.
Still here I stand undone.
And though undone; the battle I won.

For at the place where love and lust once met
At the root of my resolve where many nights I wept
The creator preserves my All; softened the fall.
My heart has not failed me yet.

Shameca Biggs Comments

Shameca Biggs Popularity

Shameca Biggs Popularity

Error Success