Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
nim Jul 2021
i am a sword
that acts as a shield
and, thus, falls apart.
Jaicob May 2021
A way of expression,
A method of destruction,
A powerful shield,
A mighty weapon,
A piece of art,
An escapism...

No matter what you call it,
Poetry is beautiful.
Keep at it, young poet-
I believe in you.
Leaving this in the notes because I have nowhere else to put it.
My mother has been slowly blocking every social connection I have from my phone, so the only way I have of sharing my experiences as of now is through this website. I don't know what I'll do if this is taken from me.

Side note- my parents are very transphobic, so that's why I've had everything blocked. Once I came out as trans, my mother took matters into her own hands to try and stop me from being trans (or something..)  I hope that, given the current circumstances, you can be patient with my lack of posting. Thank you for reading; it means a lot to me.
Raven Feels Apr 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, dreaming is my official drug;}


some wound some abuse came to an ache a demand

things I wont suppose an understand

ought for them to ****

brought to me bruised with arms no one to fill

why does it make me mad

quickly to the rush if your eyes I hand

corner stances of broken promises landing to your palm

scratches I seem to beg my lips to kiss to calm

I hate to admit it but

I got it bad to that devilish sword

whispers of magic into my mind taste of words

cutting my limbs in crap

drowning my heavens in a trap

cause maybe then I dream

on the moment unpast unseen

think your feels would come to me

horror of a real I disbelieve

or not come to the sleeping nights I don't need

or not embrace the lots adore me in free

fly my stars to a miraculous scene

so resented so loved

yet so hard to redeem
  

                                                                             -------ravenfeels
Rita Sev Apr 2021
How dare you
Keep me from living my life,
   from slaying dragons
   and speaking my mind
How dare you push me around
  (Like you own the place
     you occupy in my mind)
Well,
I’m on to you.
I see you now
   as the dragon I must slay
Say your goodbyes, Fear.
I’m sharpening my sword.
A double-edged sword,
so pure,
jealous
and evil,
meant to comfort all that wield it,
All bow to it,
all long for it,
all perish in its wake.
Love is a weapon
Man Feb 2021
she said she couldn't believe i was real
but really, i was made in a lab
where they proded and poked
till this thing came out!
want me to do a little dance for you!?
balance on my dome?
swallow a sword?

find an exit off the interstate
Lead K Feb 2021
When guilt burst forth, at Menden's door
We could not speak, we did not know
The toll the rage of men might seek
Through witless priests and burning snow

That Sword was forged in Elwen's fyre
With magic signs embossed in vain
The power of steam in crooked lines
To cleave the brows in villainous twain

Thus Emnoch came to shield the world
A hero's hero of countless girth
The ***** of shame that numbered zero
A blade arrived to state his worth

This dismal feast of brutal love
Will never sate a horse's tune
Senescence and honor entwined in fate
He ever swells that liquid boon

Asunder sliced was Denzhen Yeep
Just as Vile Ben wast slain
The Witches Five broke on the Pile
A magic Pentagon of pain

But do not braise the glance of morn'
We cannot love what has not hair
Embrace the stench of Emnoch's glove
His tale is there for you to share
Tale as old as Thyme
From the ashes and dust
We rise again
Bearing the scars of death
As we count our lost
From the bones and graves around
Many have fallen
And the sword is red

We march through the village square
Bearing more corpses
Looking for a place to rest
From the raging sword of the invaders
We seek the face of the gods

Why do we dance on their graves?
Like masquerades in the village square
The kings come from afar
And we take them to the shrine
The invaders helped us built
And none shed a tear…
None raised a wail…
And none grieved
Because it’s not their lost

They said we wail too much
For the lost was small
A tiny drop in the ocean of blood
That has flooded the land

Our contribution was small…yes, small contribution
Or how else could we justify this ceaseless carnage?
So they took more
More women…more children
More boys…more girls
Some pregnant…some suckling
A sacrifice to make up for the rest

We thought our shrine was big enough
To pacify the gods and save their wrath
But we were wrong
Their white regalia is not red enough
The blood is not deep enough for a swim
But why desire blood as one seeks for water in the desert
Oh sword! When will you rest?

The king is coming
Maybe he will see the mountains of graves
And the waiting dead—candidates for mass burial
Maybe he will say it is enough
And the priest can take the blood
And pour on the altar of the gods
So the living can rest
And the land will know peace
And the sword be no more red
May the gods be pacified
This sacrifice is enough
A reaction to the many killings Fulani Herdsmen in Benue State and the nonchalant attitude of the Federal Government to the situation. And the political pilgrimage that followed afterwards to the site of the mass graves of the victims.
Jay M Jan 2021
Racing across
The well worn path
Of old earth and stone
Down the road
Over the hilltop
Not a moment
To brace for impact
Only the collision
Cast back
To the earth that flowed beneath
Now coated with a thin layer
Mind as scattered and disturbed
As the earth and grass below

Gaze across
To what lies just paces ahead
To yet another
Disoriented fellow
Pages strewn about
As is an apologetic voice
Hands fluttering about
Like freed doves

Risen and collected,
Words shared and spoken
Together they then go
Towards the setting sun
With mighty sword
Ink and pen
Away to battle they shall go

With sword strong and gleaming bright
Surely to survive the fight
Sharper than thorns
To pierce the veil
Their enemies to wail
The soldier shall prevail

With ink as black as darkest night
Words well weaved, bold with might
Surging with power of great war horns
To give strength without fail
Their foes sure to flail
The poet shall prevail

On goes the soldier
Powerful in skill
Master of the sword
And precision in the ****

On goes the poet
Sharpest in will
Master of the word
And always ink to spill

Away they go,
Walking to and fro
They shall lead their lives on well
Never to hide inside a shell
The soldier and the poet

- Jay M
January 12th, 2021
Oh how things will go. A fun one to write, truly a delight.
M Solav Jan 2021
You deserve no pity for it was done in earnest;
Declaring innocence’s a consolation at best;
Like us all through mortality you were put to the test;
Carelessness’ a testimony upon which you now may rest.

Against famine you took the lead by unsheathing the sword,
Spilling blood amidst the pleads without believing the word.
Our tribunal for this affair will have your future sealed;
The trial may not seem fair, but so never were your deeds.
Written in July 2019.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
Next page