Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
John Wiley
It's gone.
I've checked.
I know.

But then,
it never was

Made mostly of scraps;
A rough frame of old bush lumber;
Walls of flattened fuel cans
and lime coated hessian;
A roof of corrugated iron,
battered and rusting.

Scorched by searing summer heat;
Blasted by dust storms;
Chilled by winter frost.

against the vastness of desert
that stretched in every direction
from the tiny bush town.

But it was home.
Within its walls
were love and care.
At its table
were sustenance and conversation.

For three years
we lived there
when I was a boy.

I'd rise early
and sit on the edge
of the gibber plain
with our dog
watching the sunrise.

One morning
I heard
the jangling of hobbled camels
returning to town
from a night
in the desert.

On another,
there were herds of cattle,
walked in from
an outlying station
for drafting and yarding,
then transport southward
in a train
hauled by a small steam engine.

At the stock-yard
we'd pretend to be cowboys,
prodding the cattle in the loading race
with sticks,
revelling in the dust and noise,
caring little for their terror
or their destination.

One day we hiked
out past the stock cemetery,
of carcasses leering sightless,
scavenged by crows.
We trudged
to the red sand hills,
then back to the rail-line
for a ride home
with the fettlers.

We went barefoot often -
foot-soles like leather
from the searing sand.
In the heat of the day
we'd pause in the scant shadow of a bush,
to choose the next meagre patch of shade,
then run like the wind
to roll on our backs,
waving scorched feet
in the air.

It's still all there in my memory.
Every few years
I take the old track north,
just to check,
to experience again,
to remember.

Other than the vastness of the desert,
it all seems smaller now -
one tiny settlement
within the compass
of an unbroken horizon.

The old house
is just a memory.

It's gone.
I've checked.
I know.

But then,
it never was
mom loved me
dad didnt care
mom stayed close
dad wasn't there
there is a difference
Bea Autumn
Time flies by so fast then its past

Remember special moments always last

So make some memories to treasure

Each day have and give some pleasure

So when second chances do come by

To love again say yes reach for the sky

Because I love the moments in time

When you're with me and you are mine

Cherish and relish everyday while you can

Precious are the moments when love is the plan
make every moment count
Eshwara Prasad
Bad times: You run in circles.

Good times: Others run in circles for
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β     Β Β  you.
Teodoro Ronquillo
Come to the river
The river knows everything
It contains all shades
Jasper, emerald, sapphire
No past, no future
But a deathless present is
There. Swim and know all
From the mountains to the seas.
Intimate secrets
Are reflected to the sky
Listen closely to its cry
Inspired by Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha
Nikole L
A closed door means "no"
If it doesn't open wide
It's not yet your door
Tom Salter
There will be no obituary
In the Sunday paper, nor
Any grieving stones
In the Vicar’s lawn, and
No bereavement cake
On the Baker’s counter, oh
However will they mourn ?
Corentine Skye
Happiness is a drug,
you consume it,
it consumes you.
The pills spilled
from the prescription container,
so many of them
your life labelled away

Sadness is a drug,
you embrace it,
it embraces you.
Like water, it fills you
and yet
you are still empty on the inside
Torrents of waves that keep coming
one after another
Drowning, exhaling
letting go of life

Emotions are not real
but only a stimulation,
a drug.
I stare at the collection of masks
hanging in my bedroom closet
wondering which one
I’ll wear next…
allowed to admit
these letters
are losing meaning
some days
i don't want to be me

some days i don't want
to be a person
Bethink of times I hurt for you
I weeped for you
Because it made a difference that I loved you
For to love it's to hurt and now
I don't cry
I don't hurt and I don't love, not the way I did before
Tragic to me
Because no one will ever have that part of me
It's inside of you forever
Tangled up with your own bluebird
And they're keeping each other warm while you lock them up
Caged and beaten like what we had
But you keep them close
Because you know
They make you come alive and when I come back around, you can't control that because
You want to be alive
Why can't you be alive
My saddest story, my endless poem
Beautiful in animation
Ceasessly blind to nature's creation
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
Β Β Not a single!
ExclamationΒ 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

No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

Vanity but the computer is not correct
455 likes and loves
Sarah Flynn
I’m so scared,

and I don’t even know
what I’m scared of.

I don't even know
what I'm scared of,

but I know that
I need to be scared.
Suzy Berlinsky
to common sense and decency. Garbage men must right the cans
they've overturned. Out-house carpenters must provide for
doors opening inward to accommodate seated people.
jeffrey conyers
I saw her walking down the street.
Prettier woman than I ever have seen.
Eyes dark cold.
Smile brighter than gold.

Then(reality hit me).
It was all a just dream.

I saw her fitting the description of my type.
Beauty hair the kind I like.
And when she spoke, she enounces every word just right?
And she kept me u late at night.

Then(reality set in).
It was all just a dream.

But even awake I still feel that she truly is real.
That when I woke my eyes daily still see her?
But I came to this conclusion now.
It was just a dream.
Just a dream far from reality.

But things just might change.
Chandler M
At the root of every conflict:
Two scared people
Who both beg
For a solution to come
perhaps I talk too much to the moon
and don’t listen enough to the universe

for I long for a love
too extraterrestrial
to ever find on this planet

perhaps a poet’s true fate
lies in solitude

for we yearn for connection
too shakespearean
to ever survive this modern day
I turn 21 on Saturday but feel around 70 if i’m honest.
words escape your lips
words that will never
manifest into action
promises grit through your gums
and your teeth
promises you never intended
to keep
Matthew Thompson
There's now, but I'm drunk.
There's tomorrow, but I'm drunk then too.
There's a year from now on my schedule, whoops, nope,
I'm drunk that day as well.
This used to be my mantra. I definitely have held a 9-5 job, and it was heavy-drinking. Actually, more like a 7-3 am job. It worked like this for seven to eight years. Then I think I blew a solid chunk of brain cells or had a stroke or some ****.
Megan Goose
Never enough, that's what I think.
You don't worry about me.
I worry enough for us all, anyway.

Look at me!
Β Β  Notice me.
I can do things, I can make things.
I can try to be useful, and I can be polite.

I wish it were enough.

I hurt and it's me who does this to you,
to me,
but I can't help it sometimes.

I promise I try.

I wish I were enough,
even if just for me.
Vent poetry? I don't even know what that is.
You’ll become a poet of habit
A Monday’s offer in the supermarket
Your words will sell themselves
To feed the overfed
You don’t like the idea
You’re consumed by it.
Ana Sweeney
You made my world so
Small and so dark that I
Got lost, and I couldn’t
find the exit
This phrase is absolutely disgusting
and it is completely crushing.

This phrase is an invasion of privacy
and it constantly gives me anxiety.  

This phrase makes me want to throw up
every time you ask a CHILD before they grow up.

This phrase shouldn't exist
don't you understand the pain it inflicts?

Just leave us alone
to live our life.
Let us live outside of the shadows
and put away that knife.
His face
The sight brings a smile to yours
His eyes
You can stare into them forever
His lips
You wish you can kiss them
His hands
You wish you can intertwine them with yours
His mind
It intrigues you
His soul
You can love it for eternity
His heart
It doesn't belong to you
I have come so far
and all of my scars
they symbolize the battles
that I have won
keep going, warrior.
'don't tell my mom and i won't tell your dad'
'we're just two boys in love, what's so bad?
There are faces in the stone
The cemented sand that face
The stumbling mountains
To the east, like prisoners
In prayer. There are
Stories here held loosely
In the empty rivers;
Afternoons full of
Electricity and rain
Winter nights cold and quiet
Days of endless aching wind
And mornings, fresh and new.
If you listen closely, you can hear
Them talking about such things as
Erosion, defiance
Moons and stars.
You were
My sigh of relief
And now
You’re gone
And I’m sitting here
Gasping for air
Midnight Rain
inside my head a piano plays
chopin’s aeolian harp.
in the fullness of this air
the dust sweeps off my bookshelf, in grand fashion
oscillating in the light,
the same sunlight, which blooms over my face
turning me gold, then white, then back to flesh.
past the the sound of passing cars,
the open window with its mouth full of cold air,
there is a bird cascading from the sky
it is gold, alive
then white in mourning
then flesh once more before turning to

what do we do with this light
that places all its fullness on us?
shall we dance as dust does,
then settle like a memory of touch and
swither in death as we do in life?

let it be known that i was listening to Chopin's Aeolian Harp when writing this (which doesn’t mean that this poem is great, just that i had a good time writing it).
Neha Srivastava
Sometimes people survive only to flourish....
If I die tonight
Please don’t pray for me
Hell is full
And Heaven’s gates don’t open free

If I die tonight
Look up to the stars
Peel back the façade
Past the hate in our hearts

If I die tonight
Find peace in my courage
Never backed down
Went out in a flourish
It haunts me sometimes
The distraught look in your eyes
Knowing that you can't get through

It's much worse on the other end
Seeing you so upset
Knowing you won't open up

Not even to me

It haunts me sometimes
Seeing you so unresponsive
Like I'm dead to you

I hate the feeling so much
Being on the outside
Desperate to be let in

I'm sorry I ever did it to you
Saudia R
Let my silence teach you

what my words

did not
This year, do not explain yourself (especially repeatedly) to someone who does not listen. Let your silence be your response. Let your happiness be your response. Let your peace be your authenticity.
your left hand taps on the steering wheel
to the beat of the song
and your right
is in mine
Lady Misfortune
I say:
Do you want me to pretend you do not exist?

She says:
Do as you wish.

I perceive:
All I was once you moved onto the next,
A waste of breath.

What a mutual perception process,

You keep on running and now I have nothing but my beliefs.

And what do you have?
Your cup is empty

It would be full but...
You poke holes in all the words I speak
The art of assuming the worst

Created 5.21.18
Deb Jones
This is my heartache
To bear witness, to listen
As one of my adult sons
Cries from a heartbreak
Only to me will they cry
As I make soothing noises
you never asked to read my poetry
maybe that was the sign.
i told you i wrote for fun,
you shrugged and moved on.
red flags went up everywhere, but i didn’t bother looking
do you want to play chess?
I would, but it's 11 pm
The connection is bad
i like it when you win
i don't let you win, i don't try my hardest but
even if i did, you'd win
I like it when you win
purposeful capitals
Andrew Rueter
Deep underwater
we blow unwilling bubbles
pockets of blue air
I was crying so hard.
I felt the tension in my heart.
It was about to burst.
I knew that would be my curse.
Next page