Ana S
Ana S
2 hours ago

Fear... fear you have layen upon my body.
Fear... fear you have forced into hers.
Breaths... breaths you've taken away.
Made harder to breath.
You've brought a sickness over me.
I lay in this room secluded unable to force myself to get up.
Three days straight I've layen here.
Sick with this awful sickness.
Unable to move.
Today I got up though.
Today I found strength enough to remove myself from the room and eat something.
All thanks to a man.
He wished me the best and shared his story with me.
He told me believing you can fight is the hardest part and that I am strong.
I am strong.
I can get past whatever this world throws at me.
I will not let it bring me down.

#help   #inspiration   #ill   #sickness  
4 hours ago

this is the first time i'm writing about you, yet it feels like i've been here before
maybe these are all the thoughts i've collected finally written down on paper
i think about you a lot when i'm feeling down, but you don't know that
how could you when you're out there chasing your dreams, and i'm here simply going through the motions?

i had a thought just now that reminded me why i'm still here
the life i currently live is not one that i dream of living
because of you, i realized that i can't give up
my whole life, i've been working towards this goal so i can't throw everything away
you may never know this, but thank you for being my constant source of inspiration
i love you

the boy whose presence came at an unexpected but necessary time .
FJ Thomas
FJ Thomas
16 hours ago

Weaving through comatose membranes
Igniting burned out synapses
Untangling your inner conflicts

Washing the dirt from your tired soul
Clearing smudges from your mind’s eye

With an orgasmic pulse I flow
Your lingual roots I awaken
Purging your lyrical stasis


~FJ Thomas

Ashley Sagans
Ashley Sagans
1 day ago

You have survived every moment of your life, even the ones you swore you wouldn't.
This time is no different; you will last.
You are not losing. You are not a failure. As long as you keep trying you will get through this.
You will bleed, you will gasp, and you will scar.
But what matter the most in the end, is that you will survive.
Recovery means that you keep swimming when you'd rather be drowning.

Angie S
Angie S
1 day ago

dont ask me where i am;
dont ask about the view from the peak,
how it feels to brush shoulders with the clouds
like passersby on the street, dont ask about
how delicious the air tastes in my lungs.
i am not there, not there yet. see,
i stand not as an omniscient god,
presiding over my special throne, but as a
mortal traveler, muddy and sweaty,
seeking fulfillment, and always hiking forwards.
my compass pumps blood through me and
one day it will fail and my journey will end,
but for the time being i hike.
ask me how my heels are bruised, how my
back curves, misshapen, from the weight of
my aspirations. ask me the number of times
i crashed onto the icy earth, her gravity
dragging me, but always stood again
because i am stubborn.
ask me if the freezing air chills my frostbitten fingers anymore
and pains my chest to hold. and please
ask me where i am going; ask where after all this time
my heart finds warm blood to keep it beating, and
what i hope to see at the peak of this mountain.
ask about my failures, my successes,
and how my hike draws as much inspiration
in the journey as it does the destination.

talent probably doesn't actually exist.
everyone is born at the bottom of the mountain,
talent is what we see when we see other travelers
who have climbed higher than we have.

im trying to catch up in more than a few areas

Living from excited inspiration,
Moving with motivation,
Not affected by any frustration.

Clearing a path for hope,
Never falling from that slope,
And finding a way to always cope.

Fighting for that dream,
Having a high self-esteem,
As joy is always the theme.

Keep that upbeat spirit alive,
And you will certainly thrive,
Facing a world that’s hard to survive.

Milie Ackson
2 days ago

You are not pretty

You are beautiful

Your eyes are not shiny

They sparkle with joy and laughter
They give you away when you are lying
They let me see your soul and how you see the world

Your face isn’t carved

It’s molded to form a shape that is unique to you
It holds the years of laughter around your eyes
And the things you’ve conquered in the grooves of your furrow

Your cheeks are too fat

They are every smile you’ve ever had
Ones that you have shown to the world without fear
Some secret for only you to remember

Your hair is messy

Depicting your free spirit and that hunger for adventure
Gliding in the wind
Effortlessly falling into chaotic glee

Your smile is wrong

Because it takes everyone’s breath away
Your genuine smile is more precious
Than every lost dream

Your laugh is weird

Weirdly insane how I can know so much
About your inner most being
When those few notes of bliss escape

Pretty is only a fleeting word of appearance

Is you at your raw state when you are crying in grief
Laughing so much you feel as though you’re about to burst
Watching the sunrise closing your eyes and breathing in the early morning air
Chatting to the old lady down the road and asking her about her day
Saying goodnight and good morning to the people you love
Marveling at the stars that litter the sky above
Letting adoring two year olds follow you around taking their hand in yours

It is everything you are
You have been
And will be

You are not pretty

you are beautiful

2 days ago

Deviant daughter,
I’d give it all and more
To have you knocking at my door

Satin drapes, silver knifes
A furnished mansion to
Start our lives anew
Oh, my darling,
I’d even kill for you

3 days ago

Someone once told me that life is just a series of moments,
that the past is merely a story we tell ourselves before we fall asleep.
And so I look at him and I am reminded that I am not who I was a moment ago,
and that I shouldn't try to be.
I fear a reality of fiction and distortion,
where my life is a blurry foreign film and he is the fourth wall,
always broken.
I have written of lovers and their seemingly intangible hands for so long that my concept of time is impressionable,
one might even call it sacrilegious.
I have bled dry every metaphor capable of embodiment that I wonder if it ever meant anything,
I wonder if anything ever will.

I want to write him into a scripture of meaning, of something other than illustrated angish.
I want to write about something that isn't love,
that isn't a thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.
I want to write about the way he leads me into rock pools,
like a child being baptized.

I look at him and I am reminded of the ocean,
as if his blood can only move in waves without devotion,
more like instinct.
I want to write about something that isn't love,
because this is more like inspiration.
This is not knowing what could possibly come after his tide falls back.

I am aware that literature always ruins the ending,
that finishing a book mid sentence is the only way to avoid the loss of its final words.
I am aware that beautiful things can never stay,
but maybe that's what makes them beautiful.
He is a picture of my perfect faith,
but he doesn't make me want to believe in religion,
because I know god hates the competition.

For so long I had thought that I was never going to feel anything new,
that I had exceeded the depth of emotions,
like anything that follows can only be a lesser version of something previously felt,
but here I gawk with a mouthful of blasphemous teeth.

I couldn't tell you about the snowstorm he evokes within my chest,
nor the locust plague that raid in his name.
Because this is not a love story,
at least not just yet.
This is a man that has grown roots where I have only planted seeds,
a man that scripts his stories on the soles of his feet.
And so I look at him,
and I am reminded that I am not who I was a moment ago,
and that I shouldn't try to be.

#love   #god   #lost   #art   #sex   #inspiration   #ocean   #men   #found  
5 days ago

Why can I only seem to create poetry at night?
Does the darkness inspire me more than the light?
The one that never fails to bright and warm up our lives...
Why did I still seem to love you euphorically
After your floating words that hurt me like knives?
Ones so sharp they blinded me and kept me from seeing all your lies

But now I seem to be understanding...
You were the darkness in my life that inspired me,
You were the darkness that got me writing
Using words so honest, they make me feel alive,
You are the memories that still get my heart going,
And despite the total lack of light and the pain you left in me
You are the only one who still has me on my feet, firmly and standing.

And as long as you linger in my heart, deep and close to my soul, I will be writing at night
Today and forever as I might...

To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment