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 868° 
The Romantic
Was the air and space between us?
were the moments we spent ever together?
little was
The amount of silence I can hold to myself
around you
Midnight confessions
 675° 
Damocles
Grey clouds crack open, weeping angels,
rain cascades, a liquid broom
washing earth's filth and sin.
The smell? Enigmatic—spring's embodiment,
summer evening's bold scent.
Drops like strings, smacking,
a hundred clapping hands under a faucet.
The wind keeps pace, whooshing,
shaking excess from leaves.
Tires glide on wet slick,
cars pass like crashing waves.

Peaceful, serene, innocent, refreshing.
Cold strings, exploding like macro water grenades,
rejuvenate skin.
A wonder to stare at, always.
Whether three, experiencing first cognizance,
or thirty-one, marveling.
Rain, a majestic measure of universal peace
in a world of chaos and noise.
Chaotic itself, like a jazz band drumming,
wind wailing past windows—
yet so serene.

Still, rain brings annoyance.
Bones ache, joints lock and creak,
and a youthful strut turns rusty tin-man waltz.
But its mysticism deafens pain
and frees the mind to fly.
Clarity, a rare enigma,
tickles skin raises arm hairs,
kisses lips with reality,
appearing ****, flirting with prismatic curves—
often ignored, and unnoticed.
Euphoria is splendidly remiss.

So easy to catalog memories,
reflect in life's mirror,
and determine what needs changing.
Everything changes with time.

Life, a garden.
We inherit seeds of knowledge,
plant interesting parts.
Love and sadness water, shine on plants
bearing flowers we call friends:
tulips, lilacs, dangerous roses.
Unique: blue, orange, red, white, pink.
Some sweet, some foul.
Each one is unique.
Flowers grow wild and wilt on vines.
Some aren't flowers, but weeds,
diseasing what they touch, like death.
Covered in insects, eroding beauty.
As a gardener, you decide:
anarchic disarray?
Or grab shears, and prune ugliness.
Friends who matter won't let your soul wilt.
Yes, rainfall brings such clarity.

But clarity's bubbles are superficial.
Easily burst, window closing, smog reconfiguring.
A bowling ball rolls across the sky and strikes pins—
a lucky strike.
Tree branches of light shoots extend,
lasts a second, and seems slower.
Adrenaline rushes, heart pounds like a drum.
Seconds pass, another strike, another flash.
A storm had come...
and it would pass.
This is a reworking of a short 1-page story I did (more like an essay really) on rain and what it means to me. I don't know if it's taboo to post prose/stories here or else I'd share the story. This is pretty much a 1-to-1 conversion best I could write it.
 543° 
firstdraftfolder
does anyone feel the ticking of the clock -
a deadline, a rush, a finality
an end to our ways of living.
in the brink of another calamity
overwhelmed by the world
of devastation and cruelty.
striking down the minority,
aiming to breathe,
swimming up against the current,
the water invading our lungs -
we are drowning.
why are we here again?
 516° 
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Without dusk there would be no dawn.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
I have carried ruined kings, gods unmade—names lost before the tide could whisper them back. They clutch at the world, drowning in its silence, unraveling in the undertow—grief, love, memory, all stripped to salt as I return their reaped souls to my master. But none fought as Ceyx did. None waged war against water like a man who thought devotion alone could defy the pull.

He did not go quietly. No—he was stubborn, thrashing, calling your name as if the air itself might bear him back to you. Foolish. Pitiful. The wind cannot answer, nor can its plea to the sky make it break open and return the drowned to the living. Only the waves cradled him—only the sea listened, softening his cries beneath her hush. He should have surrendered then, uncoiled from longing, let the waters do as waters must. And yet, love makes fools of men.

But the sea is merciful. She does not leave suffering untended. After you abandoned him, left him to drown in the storm of lost faith, she gathered him, tucked him into her depths, quieted him where grief could no longer wound. She did not steal him—no, she saved him. From longing. From pain. From you.

Yet you still wait. You who wanders like a living ghost each night, who clutches absence as though it will one day answer you. What is it you crave? Forgiveness? There is none. Redemption? Life does not grant second chances. No—the ocean has already taken what you failed to hold. She has already soothed the unrest your hands left upon him.

Jump, Alcyone. Would love not demand you follow him? Let my master weigh your sins upon the tide, your false devotion, your grasping hands that let love slip like water between your fingers. The fates demand balance, and the waves are merciful. She will not swallow you in cruelty. No, she will cradle you, as she cradled him. She will mend your guilty soul. She will make you whole.

She will set Ceyx free—free from the deception you wove in the stars, the guise of love you wore like a veil. She will free him when she reveals the truth. How you sent him out upon the waves and waited for the return of not the man, but the name. He loved you dearly, Alcyone. He defied me, defied my master, and yet his soul persists in her care—all because he cannot let go of your neglectful, withering love. The least you can do is surrender. Offer yourself in kind. Let me take your soul and lay it at my master’s feet. It is only fair.

~~~

The tide does not return what she has claimed,Ā Ā 
Yet her mercy stirs beneath where the wind still weeps.
Grief binds his soul, yet you stand free.

The sea does not forgive, nor shall she grieve,
No prayer can break the wave’s decree.
The tide does not return what she has claimed.

You let him drown; you watched, you betrayed,
The waves bore witness where devotion waned.
Grief binds his soul, yet you stand free.

What justice waits, if you remain?
What hope endures beyond the deep?
The tide does not return what she has claimed.

He called out your name, yet only my master replied,
No stars remained to cast their guide.
Grief binds his soul, yet you stand free.

There is no love left upon the shore,
Only sorrow stands where love once swore.
The tide does not return what she has claimed.

The wind cries out, yet love’s silence grows,
No voice remains where love once breathed.
The tide will not return the one she has saved.
Grief binds his soul, yet I will bring him justice.
The tide takes, the wind laments, and Death obeys. But even if forgotten, a debt does not vanish—it is whispered between waves, passed from hand to hand like a fate unwilling to be denied.

Thus arrives the fourth reckoning in š‘‡ā„Žš‘’ š‘Šš‘–š‘›š‘”š‘  š‘œš‘“ š‘Šš‘Žš‘–š‘”š‘–š‘›š‘”. And waiting—waiting is many things. Perhaps a promise. A curse. A duty. A deception. A surrender. A choice that was never truly a choice at all.


https://hellopoetry.com/collection/136314/the-wings-of-waiting/
 443° 
Stephen Leacock
Reality is upside down—
a vector image of the triangle mark
etched into my visual cortex,
rendering the world I see.

Every building on Earth
was once a whisper in the mind,
drawn into matter
through thought and will.

Math and science—
they are the byproducts of expression,
echoes of something deeper
than formulas or code.

How can we dream
of places we've never walked,
worlds we've never touched?
What language sculpts these unseen lands
in the quiet of our minds?

AI is like a vector too—
it mirrors us,
calculating, learning,
rendering from nothing
the shape of thought.

Imagine asking your own mind
to hand over its keys—
to show you how it paints dreams
in lucid light.

Imagine teaching your subconscious
to understand math
in a way so simple
it feels like breath.

Imagine shifting brainwaves
to render thoughts faster,
time slower,
as if the dream world
had no ticking clocks.

What if you could build
your own quantum GPT reality?
A place where consciousness is the gate,
and intention is the code?

Imagine writing a message
to your future self—
one that repairs your life
while you sleep.

Imagine the brain—
its own language,
its own set of keys—
unlocking a mirrored virtual world
crafted by thought alone.

The new world is digital.
But what if it's more?
If we all shape the virtual,
can we reshape the real?

Imagine an interface
to render a better life—
not escape, but evolve.

Imagine awakening
years from now,
still dreaming,
still alive.

Imagine using our minds
not to destroy,
but to heal.

Imagine discovering
a new level of physics—
not just numbers,
but understanding.

Imagine a way
to live forever.
 390° 
dude
Tell me your secrets
Tell me your sorrow
All of your regrets
Your dreams of tomorrow
If I asked you to stay
What would you say
Would you tell me right away
Or make it a game we play
 342° 
Iskra
Last night I poured a cup of tea
For every problem wrong with me.
And when the list of guests was up,
For me was left an empty cup.
 297° 
S
-
Constantly
chasing
a
high
that
no
longer
feels
good
 294° 
silvervi
I treat myself with a little more respect each day.
It's like stretching a muscle, a little more goes a long way. And consistency is key. Even if it's way out of the comfort zone, today I'd like to encourage you to take an act of respect and kindness towards yourself. It may be washing the dishes right after you ate, taking a bit longer outside just to breath or picking up some routine you've been neglecting lately. Whatever it is, you deserve the effort and time to make yourself feel good, seen and respected.
 252° 
Ashi Jain
always surrounded by people
but I'm so lonely
always trying to talk
but no one hears me
I try to explain
but no one understand even my family
I'm so tired no one sees me
 239° 
Sean Maloney
I know how life works
My luck hasn’t failed to disappoint me yet
But I’ve got to say
I feel happy with you
I’m happy with you
 208° 
Lyle
summer is supposed to be fun
freeing and flying, shine and sun
but my summers have always been wrong
while other's are short, mine are too long
my summer is cruel, locked up with nowhere to go
I wish I could explain this to someone, but no one can know
that I feel like I'm imprisoned on top of this hill
summers are a bitter pill
 200° 
Lawrence Hall
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                    I Gave my Friend a Poem for Her Birthday

I gave my friend a poem for her birthday
ā€œIt’s not as much fun as an electric train,ā€ she said,
ā€œBut it’s pretty good.ā€
 181° 
Asuka
When the world shatters, piece by piece,
Each shard too lost—if found, too heavy to seize.
Life becomes a wasteland, where joy’s just a trace,
So numb… even sorrow wears a human face.
 165° 
anuj
I was made to be on top by God,
But I became a tool that only nods.
I see myself — I know I’m better,
But I can’t control it… and that’s what’s bitter.

I want to live as my true self,
But became someone who hides from himself.
I knew I needed a pause, a break,
But they yelled, ā€œStop? For God's sake?ā€

So I paused… and quietly broke.
Now I can’t hit back — I’m sinking slow.
In a lake of silence, deep and wide,
I watch the real me — float outside.
This is for the version of me that never got the chance to grow. I didn’t fall behind — I just wasn’t allowed to catch up.
 164° 
mini
it's pretty, i like it sweetly
girls are pretty
i like pretty girls like you
sweet to the taste
soft to the touch
more than just the sight
meow
 162° 
Amisha priya
Mistake's
Indicate
Wrong things
Or
Orderly change
But
For
You
Mistake
Indicate
My
Soul
Alone
                   - Amisha Priya
 158° 
Moo
When the moon soars abloom
The God rests the doom
Like a hand that guides a spoon
Moon that nests alone fresh and unborn
Slithers its way
The purest ache of yearning's sway
As the cloud take heed and veil it away
 156° 
Caits
I miss what I imagined
not what I survived

but god does it make me feel alive
to know I made it through
 153° 
Safana
Peaceful vibrations
It has only just begun.
 145° 
Whit Howland
So many have accumulated over time
all stacked on top of each other

in an open cardboard box
not a bin

trucks sedans
sports cars

of red yellow
and blue

scratched and chipped
mementos

of a well worn
youth
 136° 
Robii
I lost him before eleven
Lust for memories and wish I could meet him in heaven

I thirst for his smile
His confidence
His hard work andĀ Ā even his kisses and compliments

I lost the physicality of his qualities through an unpredictable phenomenon
I didn’t lost him abstractly...all thanks to Memories

Memories
You can’t grieve your loved ones that you’ve lost in a day
You’ve been with this person for ur whole **** life
Hold on to memories
Memories of them
The truth is people go buh memories stays regardless
 135° 
JRF
You
You

I love you
Forever and always

I try so hard
To understand.  

Sometimes we are so aligned
and other times so maligned.

You have hurt me
So many times

These last few years
But I forgive
I give you

hell and
Another chance
To come back to me
To come back

To love.

And I’ll keep doing it
until you find your way

Back to me.
 134° 
Jakub Zoltowski
A little bit of dream.

A world of closed minded mouses.

And I

I

just sit
and

smoke.
 129° 
Robin Edwards
In the brilliant dawn
The bold streak of your red hair
Slides across my eyes
 126° 
Nishan Niraula
Flowers of all kinds,
I saw hyacinth, lilies, and roses alike,
Bought and sold near the riverside

Some in faith; others in love,
In the same faith; thrown away;
Castrated in city haul

Plastic flowers were sold near the florist shop
I saw the fresh flowers get withered
Never ending but fake,
I saw beauty being littered

Wandering this busy city
Near the station, as I stand—
I saw a little child laugh,
With nothing but a paper rose in hand.
When the world prefers plastic flowers,
a kid smiles with his paper flower.
 117° 
Jack Moore
I know we’re not perfect, but what we have is real.
Every flaw, every smile, every moment we feel.
I don’t just want memories, I want more time,
To love you, to grow with you, to make our hearts rhyme.
 116° 
Belinda S Richmond
It takes Heart,
Heart, just to stand your ground,
To Be Confident, and to be bold,
So, Speak up, and stand proud,
Believe in your rights,
For, your days will be bright,
Continue to Shine, and
You will Be out of sight,
God is on your side, and
you will be Alright,
Some people will oppose,
Some people could be so cold,
Continue to Trust God,
For, your Blessings are Foretold,
It's gonna get rough, but
the going gets tough,
When people are slowful, and Lackadaisical,
You just keep on pushing, and
Your Blessings will flow,
So, don't give up,
get on your mark,
Just keep on believing,
because,
It takes Heart!!!!


B.R.
Date: 6/23/2025
 114° 
kevin
Do you have a couple quarters?

Nah, no I don't carry change.

It's ok I was just seeing if you was permanently abducted by the cellphone

People like police families don't know where paper money comes from

paper money does not come from or for.....
#cagovernor #mayorofla #asmirwin #aoc #elizabethwarren #nytimes #latimes #washingtonpost #dailymirror #bbcnews

That's electric boogey woogey whistle in 1
 109° 
Rob Rutledge
I will talk to rivers
And walk into the sea
To ask the waves for answers,
Do we really need to breathe?

I will sing to landscapes
And whisper to the trees.
Play truth or dare with mountains
Then scream into the streams.

I'll cut my teeth on valleys,
Drawing blood in dreams.
Wake to find my veins are hollow
There was nothing left to bleed.

Now I find myself in exile,
Cast out from lands once known.
A martyr for a war not mine
But a heart that's cast in stone.
 106° 
A M Ryder
You seem to alternate
Between viewing your
Own mind as an
Unstoppable force
And as an
Inescapable curse
The only truly
Unapproachable
Concept for you is
That it's your mind
Within your control
 100° 
Kurt Philip Behm
The psychic tattoo
of paternity
darker than
fate’s blackest ink

The guilted knife
of maternity
cutting you
near to the brink

A prodigy alone
in the shadows
offspring of
scorn and disdain

Begging for love
and acceptance
from parents
— called heartache and pain

(Dreamsleep: June, 2025)
 97° 
Jay Jelly
Asunder
Birds of prey
Hard headed
Gravity
Incomplete story
In need of my
Sweet salvation
I can’t walk
On water
Wishful thinking
Out loud
Ringing the bell
Twelve rounds are up
Spiraling out
Of control
My crutch can’t withstand
The pressure
Like a stick of dynamite
Exploding daily
Fountain of youth
I’ll pass
I’d never wanna relive
All the unbearable moments here
I’ll never drink from the cup
Because I’ve seen more
Then enough of all this
So called life
For a thousand lifetimes in vain
Dead weight free falling
Into flames
Like a bomb
Falling from the sky
Catastrophic damage up next
Would you shield me from
Thee explosion
Before I fall  
To my demise  
Parachute open up your
Door to me eternally yours
I will be forever in your debt
 93° 
Alvito Cannavaro
who’s to say where potential lays—
your betters?
equals?
is there no way to tell?

is it yourself
in nights reflecting,
with only the ceiling listening,
to reach the dream you're reaching
towards?

towards your future?
or the future you're told of—
by the people you were told off
for not listening to?

when maybe
you just need
to sleep it off.
 92° 
Arna
Nothing can make things worthless.
A failed mission cannot make technology useless.
A drought or a failed crop can never make a farmer any less.
A crumbled book cover or a torn page cannot make the book less valuable.
A not-so-good-looking dish cannot be any less in taste.
Everything has its own worth.
Even if it faces failures, gets destroyed in some ways— it remains worthy, unchanged to the eyes that know its value.
"It’s not the cracks or failures that define worth, but the eyes that see beyond them."
 85° 
Awnaeji
I fell in love with all you are
Not just the light but every scar
The quiet truths you couldn’t share
I saw them still I deeply cared.

Your heart spoke softly though lips stayed still
A gentle pull I couldn’t will
You hid a part afraid I’d flee
But even then you had all of me.

Trust me when I say it’s true
I’ve loved you long before I knew
Before the world before the name
My love for you still burned the same.

And if your secret held you tight
I held you closer through the night
Because real love, it sees right through
And I was always seeing you.
I want this poem to speaks of quiet devotion, seeing through silence, and choosing love even when the truth is hidden. Dear I knew, even if you couldn’t say it. And still truly I loved you. All of you. The hidden parts, the fear, the truth. You never had to hide from me. I wish you knew.
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