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 7° 
Ann
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  to is what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.
"Keep your eyes closed, love. sometimes all you have to listen is to what the sound of the waves tells you to do."

When I was much younger, beaches were my second favorite places. I still love watching waves as they go by, crashing against each other and the whole process repeating all over again.
 7° 
Eva
You took away parts of me that I will never get back
And I'm working ******* being okay with that.
 7° 
haysia
They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love.
"
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
 7° 
zak
Her
words moved me, and
God
i wanted my fingers to blister and my
bones to ache
but my mind withers and my heart breaks
i swallowed ink and still i couldn’t
make the words flow like they used to as if
almost as if
they refuse to
 7° 
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
 6° 
Deeee
I dance.

My toes dig into the soft mud
My dress is drenched from the rain

I dance.
My arms are outstretched
Cutting through the air as I spin

I dance.
I smile at the moon
My heart is full
I'm in love with this moment

I dance.
 6° 
Traveler
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim
.


Hay
No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

Vanity
All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
 6° 
Bardo
I suppose I'll be in a Nursing Home one day
  drooling all over myself
And still plotting revenge on this world for
  having wronged me so,
Or maybe I might just be dozing, probably
  having another nightmare
I might find myself on a train somewhere and the conductor he suddenly
  announces
"Next stop Dementia City
After that it's Alzheimersville"
I'll awake with a start
And then...then I'll see her... this beautiful
  vision just walking in
Elderly like myself but still so ladylike
Still so lithe and graceful
I'll tell my Nurse to quickly get my false teeth
And my good wig
And my walking frame
And to give me a couple of those heart tablets
I'd think to myself "I knew she'd come... one
  day"
It'd be one last chance for Love... one last dash for Love.

So moving slowly but determinedly across
  the floor toward her
I'd probably get a pain midway
And then keel over
She'd not see me, she'd have her back turned
  to me
The Nurses they'd be showing her to her
  room
She'd be walking away
I'd try to call out but the words they'd get all
  garbled and stuck in my throat
I'd try to reach out to her... reach out like
  she's some mirage in the desert
My last gasp... my last gasp for Love
But...too late...
Too late, the Hero.
A bittersweet bit of fun.
 6° 
Nat Lipstadt
<>>
Jan. 13, 2014
<>

a  flawless poem

if such there were,
will always be,
the next one

my poor soul,
my rag tag heart
has no censor,
so careless, reckless,
as if words were but
frivolous treasures,
easy spent, easy get

if only, how I wish I
could harvest my best,
with golden cutlery excise
the single flawless poem,
that I know is in my possess

lay down this hand so weary
from cupping tears,
be satisfied at long last,
so much so,
that when my casket lowered,
hands in repose companioned,
clutching his best, easing his rest,
a paper record to join his dust
with ash,
his flawless poem,

at longest last
 6° 
em
this world spins way too fast
my head turns a little too slow
im so lost
 6° 
Chelsea Quigley
'Come,
Take my hand'.
Said the boy
That I,
Created in my head.
To live a little lie,
And go here instead.
Escaping my pain,
Away from such dread.
When I open my eyes,
I see nothing but red.
But I cave inside,
And here,
I fled.
 6° 
Nat Lipstadt
~dedicated to the heart fixers~

sometimes I smack my head,
when a poem commission is lying on
the ground before me, and I just don’t
hear it, believe it, in order to retrieve it…

many months of physical rehabilitation,
sessions always ended with a certain cutesy
Gen Z~Millenial crossover phraseology:

remember to tell someone you love them

the instructors mostly youngish,
so we senior~smile
a tad dismissively, give them a reward~grin, and
head for the locker room,
where we gossip and compare notes,
on the Part II of our in-process-future-realization,
living a grueling new life of self-preservation, 24/7

the PTs & EPs pound you on the machina, go faster, work harder,
eat better, sleep more, take those meds, motion is lotion,
walk the talk, never be still, but race to live longer and
prosper, this hard work is your new job, and resignation
is non~optional

now, it hits me, via a figurative sharp slap on the side of the head,
triggering an actual physical manifestation that reverbs to the toes,
that the most important lesson went under the radar,
evading the former trader’s dimming vision,
flunking himself on the rehab test paper,
a purple F for fool,
a grade, earned and deserved, and herein poetically preserved

the hardest heart work, begins only after you co-
commence the longest road back to where you once
belonged, but where you can’t walk alone, for therein
a recipe for failure; and the work that needs doing,
is on you; take that tear-repaired heart, and give it away, it,
one can be healed, but not if sealed, for the hard-hearted
walls thicken, and “over  time, the thickened heart muscle
can become too stiff to fill the heart with blood; the heart
can't pump enough blood to meet the body's needs.


so break off pieces of your heart, give them away with
relentless abandon, for this is the heart that self-repairs,
new tissue, new fiber, and most important, regeneration,
the one single reparation that can successfully
accomplish the true miracle of getting by giving,
no forgiving, if you don’t exercise the heart by

remembering to tell someone you love them




dedicated to the hard working staff of the
Cardio Rehabilitation  Unit
of Nyulangonge, Rusk Institute of Rehabilitation
who started  me
with a mighty push on the long road to utilizing my heart properly

<•>
 6° 
Stranger99
When the sunshine gets lost,
and I'm all alone
Time is forever and still.
Remnants of the sane
remain discarded and gone.
It's cold here and souls divide,
only to remain vacant and up for sale...
 5° 
the lost kid
This world is full of liars
Cheaters
Frauds
Trash talkers
No good doers
And people who will hurt you

But with you they don’t even exist, with you I feel my worries wash away
I feel like this is the last one about my feelings but oh well
 5° 
Chaos
i tried to find
a song
a poem
a piece of art
something, anything
that felt like
or sounded like
you

i looked
and searched
asked
and wondered
yet no matter what
i tried
there was nothing
that came close

for you
my platonic soulmate
are one of a kind
a light in the dark
warm, soft
kind, loving
selfless
a best friend

i couldn't find anything
because
nothing
nothing is like you
I still remember the day
I said it
When I was kneeling
Touching your feet
I love you dear
Being away from you
Makes me fear
You are the first
And the last
You are the world
That's my only word
Tears rolling over my cheeks
Have made of me an artist
An artist who paints with his tears
Your portrait is not for sale
Cz I am your only male.
Without you I am nothing
Your presence is like wings
Making me fly so high.
You made me someone
When all people around
Saw me no one
But something.
 5° 
maureen
fingertips on mine
tell me that you'll wait for me
dawn breaks; the day comes.
 5° 
lua
there was a moment in time
when death sat beside me on a park bench
and he had rested his hand on the gap between us

i,

too,

rested my hand there
and brushed my fingers against his

and for a chaste moment
i savoured the warmth of his skin
and intertwined my hand with his

but he stood up

and left

and maybe he knew,

it was for the better.
it was the right option
 5° 
Siyana
I'm in a bathroom at a party,
             why do i always lock myself away...
               I don't know how to have fun,
              so please don't depend at all on me...
                         I like my solitude
 5° 
Columbusphere
Sometimes when sorrow sinks in
I worry a wailing might screech from my chest
And every person for miles might hear it.
Or feel it shake the air, like hot flame
Ripples carrying my saddest indulgence
As the beast that weighs me down, croons.
So that people quaking, step out of the way
And we have room to sing the lonely wail, some more.
© 2019 Columbusphere All rights reserved
at midnight she drew the knife
praying hard with it between her hands
squeezing for a drop of hope
that she could put trust in just this one man

and when she bled on the altar
leaving offerings, making sacrifices
she replaced the hood on her head
made her way back home before the night's end

at the time the spirits seemed pleased
yet she still kept falling to her knees
feeling all that there was to be felt
unsure of how to proceed

thinking

if what you wish for
is what you intend
what could you lose
while trying to win

and i do my best
and i make the bed
that i sleep in
knowing i'll never break even

she deserves to feel warmth of daylight
and the soft invitation of a shared blanket
true unconditional acceptance
the levity of having true love and not being afraid to break it

she shouldnt be collateral damage of a fool
who seeks to make a stepping stone
out of another human being
just to avoid talking about his feelings
how utterly underwhelming
 5° 
Jack Torrance
Today I’ll ponder,
on these scars.
Tonight I’ll wish,
upon a star.

Tomorrow may bring,
another wound,
but wounds can heal,
if treated soon.

Yesterday,
I thought of death,
and felt the wind,
sigh with his breath.

Not today,
he whispered clear,
perhaps tomorrow,
but do not fear.

In the end,
he comes to all.
The weak, the strong,
the big and small.

He’s timeless and constant,
Death’s always “been”,
and he has no pity,
foe or friend.

He’ll lead me on,
to the unknown,
giving me the thing,
he can never own.

So I will not fear him,
and I shall not fret.
For tomorrow,
has not happened yet.
Death comes to us all.
 5° 
Malia
I am stupid
And naive
To think this would be easy.

I am stupid
And naive
To believe it would be served
On a silver platter.

I am a complete and utter ignoramus.
 4° 
Liz Carlson
i've waited so long for this,
for someone like you.

for someone to feel the same way about me
as i do about them

i'm finally here,
yet i have to wait

whats pulling me through
is knowing that
as much as i want a boyfriend,
i want a husband even more.

and i know if we wait,
that's what this will become.

if we're wise and hold on,
this will be forever.
 4° 
Levi Johnson
I just have to look
at you
to feel it.

To know it
I have to look
away.

Like the pages
of a book
mid-tornado,

Fragments of
information, the pieces
all out of place.

Still,

I believe you
beg to be
read.
 4° 
Lawrence Hall
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                      While Clenching Their Fisties

Old men do not now argue politics
At the coffee table in the grocery store
Old men, like some university students
Simply say what they are ordered to say

By voices bellowing from Orwellian telescreens

While clenching their Trumpy-grumpy fisties
 4° 
Donall Dempsey
I LIKE TO SAY YOUR NAME

I like to say
your name

when you're
not here

turn you
into sound

conjure you out of
thin air

so that you appear
before me

dressed in sound
only

memory sketching in
the rest of you

as if sound
was just an outline

and love
colours you in

adding the voice last
so I can hear you say.

"Hello you..!"
and there you are

as present
as present

can be.

I like to say
your name

when you're
not there.
 4° 
Luke
I went out to find
Some value in me,
So I sold what I had
For little a fee.

My eyes for a penny
I sold to some fools,
They're blind and useless,
Mistook for jewels.

My lips for a nickel
To the sweetest sin,
So they'll know the love
That has never been.

My ears for a dime
I sold to a lover.
To hear sweet nothings,
And silence uncover.

My hands for a quarter
I sold to a ghost,
So that she might feel
What I've wanted the most.

Finally my bones for a dollar
I sold to the earth,
But as for my soul-
There was found no worth.
 4° 
JP Goss
They came into this world
Starving, pathetic, and in need of work
Computer beings seeking profit,
We called them millennials and,
Like bacilli to honey,
They will eat themselves to death;
I’ll be waiting with an open casket.
When the time comes,
Issued as both punishment and reward,
Fitted just for lazy things,
And it shall be translucent,
As all human desires are
An empty display
Of material just as ubiquitous.
I’ll be the funeral director,
Engorged by suffering,
When the time comes
I’ll be waiting with an open casket.
The skin that does not bleed
When struck, requires only a few
Strikes more,
The arms which do not tire
When pushed, require only a few
More loads,
The will that does not break
When overburdened, requires only a few
Lashes more—
When the time comes
I’ll be waiting with an open casket
And let the ocean, in pacificity
Carry them to the collective
Dead of this world, to churn in anonymity
For eternity; a true hell to the ego,
I’ll be waiting with an open casket
Just to send it off with a nudge.
 4° 
Fey
In shadows deep where moonlight wanes,
Where whispers dance in eerie strains,
There prowls a creature of the night,
With eyes aglow, a chilling sight.

Amongst the hibiscus, crimson blooms,
Their petals soaked in midnight gloom,
A vampire lurks, his thirst unbound,
In silence, stalking without a sound.

He yearns for blood, a crimson stream,
A haunting echo, a silent scream,
And in the garden, where hibiscus weep,
His hunger stirs from slumber's keep.

Yet amidst the darkness, a delicate grace,
The hibiscus blooms, a fragile embrace,
Their beauty rivals the moon's soft glow,
A stark contrast to the vampire's woe.

For in their petals, life's essence lies,
A crimson hue beneath starlit skies,
But to the vampire, they hold no cure,
Just reminders of what he must endure.

So in the night, where shadows creep,
The vampire hunts, his hunger deep,
And though the hibiscus may wilt and fade,
Their beauty lingers in the darkness, unswayed.

© fey (24/04/24)
 4° 
Sofie Louise
I’m not empty.
It’s not that I don’t feel anything.
The exact opposite.

I feel so much.

So much I get desensitized to my own emotions.
They flow around like water in every corner of my body.
Mixing in with my blood until there is no cell untouched.

It used to be a gentle lake.
But now It’s an ocean.
So all I can do is sit here and pretend that I’m a puddle.
Just like everyone else.
 4° 
Aseel
I don’t want to be a princess.
I prefer to be a wall
or a shoulder
that some one can lean on
I don’t want to be spoiled
I want to
fight
Get dirt on my clothes
Clean them
search more
fail more
know more
see everything
Try everything
I want to share the road
With some one
Running not carried
I want to look behind
And see MY footprints.
I want to be free
 4° 
August
He gave me dead flowers
So I can smell them every day
The rotten petals falling
The color of decay

The washed out sunflower
The dehydrated leaves
The mold on the water
The color of debris

The richly red rose
Now drooping to the floor
The color of love
Existed no more

But still I saved the flowers
And smelled them every day
And watered them with tears
To let them grow again.
 4° 
Rainy Days
I fell for the boy
Making sandwiches in the kitchen
Fell for his eyes
A deep green
Like a pine tree
I fell deep for the boy in the kitchen
And boy I love him
And the way he looks at me.
 3° 
e reed
We count the same stars

We whisper to the same moon
    each night.

That is enough,
just knowing we’re in the same universe.

e.reed
 3° 
Triste
She met an artist
His fingers were made of gold
They moved like brush strokes
She was an empty canvas
His portrait of rainbow tears
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