Really short poems

Less than 10 lines.
  Added by PrttyBrd  ·  2 days ago
wolf spirit aka quinfinn

you complete my life
like the final jigsaw piece
fills my puzzled void

  Added by Courtney Snodgrass  ·  4 days ago
Courtney Snodgrass

I’ve written my suicide note disguised
Too many times in too many text messages.
I can’t understand why no one is trying to save me
When that’s exactly what I’m waiting for:
Someone to tell me that I need help.
Someone who doesn’t just listen,
But takes me to the hospital.
Because I can’t bring myself to drive with scars lining my wrist
Through traffic lights under the stars to the emergency room.
But I can’t swallow the number of pills, I lost track of count
To take me out of my misery either.
Kissing a bullet through my lips
Is too much noise and clean-up,
But at least I’d be gone; guaranteed.
Thoughts don’t guarantee anything,
But they set the idea in motion.
Thinking of my funeral from afar,
Watching everyone dressed in black,
Crying their mascara down their cheeks,
Almost would have me fooled that they care.
The very thought of imagining my own funeral
Makes me think that I might just be able to create it.

rough draft because i'm crying, wishing someone would put me out of my misery.
  Added by Courtney Snodgrass  ·  Jul 21
Courtney Snodgrass

I shaved my head this morning.
The sun hadn’t yet conquered the horizon
But the birds outside the window cheered for me
As I pulled the shaver from my forehead to my crown.
My tiny fingers gripped the electric razor,
Holding on for life,
As it were much too big for my nervous hands.
I cut my skull three times before allowing myself to cry.
I peeked at the blonde clumps of hair that rained
To the cold bathroom tiles and puddled around my feet.
After finishing, I went to lay in the arms of my blankets,
While my pillows kissed the back of my head,
Healing the nicked wounds scattered over my skin.
I left the hair to sleep in the sink and over the floor.
Welcoming the sun rise, it felt warm against my bare skull
And I wondered if this was how heaven felt like,
Walking up to the gates.

comments and feedback are encouraged and appreciated.
I'm unsure about the title, so very open to suggestions.
#poem   #poetry   #cancer  
  Added by PrttyBrd  ·  Jul 10
Jul 10

Catching feelings on a breeze, ingesting emotions inhaling you

One stroke senryu
#love   #haiku   #breathe   #senryu   #one-stroke  
  Added by PrttyBrd  ·  Jun 24
Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul

I will undress you with my eyes

Punish you with my dark thoughts

Then use your body with my mind

  Added by PrttyBrd  ·  Jun 24
Jun 24

reciprocal bonds
from transforming reactions

  Added by PrttyBrd  ·  Jun 21
Jun 21      Jun 22

In every action,

In every word,

In every thought,

In everything,
God in me.

My mantra.
#life   #god   #thoughts   #christian   #you   #me   #belief   #mantra   #principle   #viromnibus  
  Added by PrttyBrd  ·  Jun 21
Kay La
Kay La
Jun 20      Jun 21

I love you
I hate you
Addicted to the madness
Addicted to your bedroom
You're my cure, you're my cause
The one I hate, the one I love

#love   #hate   #madness   #addicted   #cause   #cure  
  Added by PrttyBrd  ·  Jun 18
Vanessa Gatley
Vanessa Gatley
Jun 18      Jun 19

The sun is rising
Heat is arriving
Birds start chirpping
  Good day  As
   A  bit of light appears

  Added by Courtney Snodgrass  ·  Jun 16
Courtney Snodgrass
Courtney Snodgrass
Jun 16      Jun 16

Do you know how many times my mother coughs so hard in an hour that it still surprises me she hasn’t lost a lung?

I wonder if all the money that she spends at the gas station on that tiny cardboard box was saved instead of spent, if she could manage to pay the bills before the late notice arrived in the mail.

How many times do you think she tries to quiet the change being pushed around the tabletop as she counts out the quarters, the dimes, the nickels, the pennies before she has enough to slide the coins across the counter at the station?

How many times is her anger thrown at me because nicotine is absent from the house?

I can only imagine the color inside her chest, protecting her lungs with a black tar after too many years of flicking a flame to a thin white candlestick stuck between her lips.

The house smells of smoke and the yellow filter lines the walls, around the frames that hang themselves by nails.

I clean the mirror and see the paper towel golden from the lingering tobacco.  My clothes reek of a stench so strong no amount of perfume seems to be enough.

I’m paranoid that every time I’m in a room of people and someone mentions that it smells like smoke, if they know I harbor such a scent that I pour it off second handedly as if I inhale the drug too.

I open the mailbox and the temptation to “lose” the coupon booklet addressed to her grows stronger.

The business cards labeled with a barcode on the back subtracting a dollar off when you buy two packs strengthens the urge to scrabble up the silver coins or summons the question, “do you have five dollars? I’ll pay you back when I get paid on Friday.”

Friday never comes.

I often think about how much longer it will be until all the money spent on tiny cardboard boxes will be split between tobacco and medical bills.

How long can you smoke a pack a day and still be cancer-free?

And I wonder how it’s fair to watch your mother gamble with her life each time she places a thin cigarette between her lips.

Russian roulette with cancer is a game she’s become too good at.

feedback, opinions, ideas are appreciated and encouraged.
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