Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
the day a poet  
falls in love with you
is the day
you know you will live
not in life
but in the love
that your poet
could never seem to
but will
give you
all of

There is too much happening
Too much to care about
Too much to fight for
All worthy causes
But the biggest fight of all
Is to be empathetic
In this apathetic world
this isn’t a poem, but i’m deleting this account due to various reasons and transferring everything to my instagram account @starkissedlover ; please make sure to follow!!
Karly Codr
i'm dizzy.
the boxes full of sadness
that have been packed away
in the shadows of my brain
since march have been opened again
now they spin around in my brain
making me numb to everything surrounding me
I wanted to be your fire
A candle in the dark,
A calming radiance
Exuding warmth
So I kept burning
Just to be seen
Into pieces, I melted
Enduring the heat
Until the flame
Left nothing of me.
just to watch you leave
Dreams of tomorrow
Fated hallowed memories
Of lives shared as one
Michael S Simpson
Karma is like 69:
what you give you get.
Karma doesn't distract as much
---at least it hasn't yet.
Vranda Punjabi
मेरी देशभक्ति सिर्फ मुज तक नहीं,
ये बात मैं भी जानती  हूँ .
हर एक देशवासी मायने रकता है
ये बात मैं भी मानती हुँ !

बात  करते  हो  तुम  दुश्मनो  की,  
हम  तोह पूरी  दुनिया  को जुंजाला  दे !
बात  करते हो  तुम  धरती की ,
हम  तोह  पूरा  आसमान  हिला  दे !

इस मिट्टी से सब जुड़े है हम ,
इस मिट्टी मैं मिल जाएगे .
तिरंगे के रंगो से जुड़े है हम,
इन रंगो मैं घुल जाएगे !

जंग के मैदानों मैं भी, भूमि-माँ ने मुझको संभाला है !
खड़ा उठ और कर देश की रक्षा ,
ऐसा हौसला दिया है !

जवान है हममैं,
जवान है तुममें ,
इस बात को अब तुम मान लो .
छोड़ो अपने ही देश से लड़ाई ,
अब एकता को तुम भी अपना लो !
Wishing you all a very happy Independence week:-)
Haadiya Sunasara
I want to escape,
from this hellhole of a cell
The bars make it hard to breath,
The air stinks of blood and the jailers wrath
They do not seem to notice my constant torment,
I hide my tears,
Cursing myself for being weak
I fear my weakness will only bring them pleasure
I wait....and wait.....for the day
When I can cry till my hearts content.
A bit of an exaggeration,but this is how I feel during this time Trapped in my own house.....
Veritia Venandi
In a place beyond heaven and hell...

Upon a pale blue face...

Dressed in a garment of green foliage...

Wearing neckpieces of wild flora and untouched fauna...

Adorned by a crown of diamond stars and ethereal clouds...

Having the mind of mountains...veins of waterfalls and rivers... And the heart of oceans...

Cells of gravels and skin of a holy soil...

Rain kissed body  releasing the divine petrichor and gemstones filled *****...

In such a place I exist...
Cradled in a Mother's lap...
What would I call it if not my eternal home!
Feeling deeply with the earth! Gratitude for reading this! ❤
Nimisha Rana
I saw you standing there
I know you cannot bear
With weary eyes and skin so dry
You looked down wanting to cry

You want to hide in unknown places
Kept running away from your fears
Covering up your ears
To the words you don't want to hear

Storming days suddenly passed
You didn't moved until the sunlight flashed
You looked up and surveyed the sky
Finally found a reason to smile
Follow my writings on instagram @_spread _u_r_wings
Riley OHalloran
When I asked you what song reminded you of me,
you sent me one about a love curse—
about loving someone dearly and missing them,
and when I messaged you some joke about it,
not about the love curse but about the language,
wanting to clarify but not wanting to be direct,
you responded in what almost looked like nerves.
Neither of us brought up the love curse,
but you didn’t say anyone else made you think of a love song;
am I reading too much into it?
One of us needs to say something.
I feel the need to fill it all up,
my days, that is,
gather plans and gorge
on seamless social interactions,
slurping up smiles and gulping
down the cool liquid of laughter,
picking my teeth with the bare bones of boring conversation.
I’m an introvert, but time alone isn’t helping anymore.
Alone, I spiral. I starve.

What is the purpose?
Someone distract me from these things in my head called thoughts.
Nourish me, I am dying and I’m wanting it, too.
laugh until my stomach is so stuffed that I heave out another joke.
Talk until I bite my tongue and bleed, eagerly chewing, cheeks

What neon emptiness has driven me here
to the all-you-can-eat buffet?
While I feast on my friends under these fluorescents
my shadows only wait.
𝗌𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝖾,
𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖺𝗇𝗍
𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖻𝗈𝗐,
𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌
𝖻𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒
𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖾
𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌
hey rosy cheeks,
miss being you🥺
I want to save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
because she tells me it is my destiny,
and it is all in the email she sent me.

I want to save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
because she possesses many Riches,
and she has promised me all of them.

I want to save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
from her wretched uncle,
who will steal her wealth and lock her away.

I would save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
but she only needs my Government ID,
Bank Account and Social Security.
Chris Saitta
These clouds of Italy are grown on vines,
Infidels of skies, fruit bearers of wine-veined
Marble, fertile in spite of its own lifeless tableau,
Here thrives the succulent garden of the alone,
Where turns aside the burnt nape of the plowman,
Voyager of the cool midnight seas of the mind,
Up to this arable vine of sighs from outworn gods,
And hears his heart once more give up its throne.
Anais Vionet
(each stanza is a Haiku)

We, the resistance,
are here, stationed on our couches
armed with our remotes.

Camouflaged in our
faded PowerPuff pajamas
and fuzzy slippers

We are determined.
Yes, we have evaded contact
and forsaken love.

We few, lay down such
as freedom for honest care
for our fellow man.
This is a CrAzY corona virus world we're "living" in - where you fight with your TV remote
Hugo Pierce
I hate the good days
I have no reason to feel
As bad as I do
At least on the bad days, I have an excuse.
and me,
we are,
unified souls,
simply, united,
an unbreakable set,
underway, sailing,
like ship and sea,
this two-way street,
and me,
we are,
us. [one].
XVI. Committed
Eva B
Our hands rest lightly on each other and we both sense a meaning that can’t be articulated. Only conveyed. Something like: the way my fingers rest delicate on your side means I adore you. You are precious. I might break you but for now: this lightness.
good luck to you, my friend
their words are more wounding than their
fists will ever be
you said it with wet eyes and an open heart
and it was so velvet sweet, you had to mean it.
your love was warm, selfless, and consuming
and i had to lose you to feel it.
differs "love" from "live"
yet why can't I
tell the difference when
I'm around you?
"Life makes love look hard, but love makes life a bit more bearable, don't you think?"

~ to my past, present, and future, thank you for showing me the love I thought I never had, and for living these moments with me.

And as Rumi once wrote,
'Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."

We are breaking down our barriers, together. Reader, I hope you're breaking down your barriers too. The world ought to have a little more love, don't you think?

Let's be that love.


P.S. Been writing again. I'm so glad to be back!
Eleo C Nora
Streets open  
people roll
out of their
shells -  
stretch into
the humid
I'm dying;
But my heart is still beating.
I'm lifeless;
But I'm still breathing.
I'm crying;
At the same time I'm laughing.
Everything has it's opposite;
And I'm in the opposite side;
Waiting to be found.
and we
won't just
    but we'll
      thrive till
        we're five
           and make
              peace with
                 our hearts
                     till we're
                                   and my
                                                            will talk
                                                                   to the
                                                                          sky and
                                                                               we'll drift
                                                                                      through the
                                                                                              night till
                                                                                                      we're free
Erica Lynn
"i love you."
you don't know me.
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
I’m addicted to the feel of cold metal sliding across bare flesh
Addicted to the instant
when nothing marks smooth skin
immediately before
red rivers rapidly rise
painting a once white canvas
with a flood of emotion,
tears on my cheeks,
sobs caught in my throat,
numbness replaced by pain & sadness.
Addicted to the imperfection
of red welts and dotted scabs that follow,
fingers drawn like magnets
to the texture of healing skin,
tracing over and over and over now fading ridges
Amazed that I am strong enough
to heal myself over and over and over.
Convincing myself that I am strong enough.
I find strength in my weakness.
6 months self harm free! Writing about it helps fight the urge
And then I saw it,
At dusk, beating its small wings.
A guest from heaven.
My grandma passed away a few weeks ago, and today would've been her 88th birthday. She loved hummingbirds. I saw one today, at dusk, while talking on the phone with my aunt. It felt like a sign from her that she was okay, and that's she with me.
Thinking about getting a tattoo
But, I take pause...
Looking in the mirror
I see my body’s already covered
Marked in invisible ink
Every inch of my bare skin
Painted with the joy and pain of living
From my heart to my hips
Color faded here, but poppin’ over there
Memories designed by your hands
Others etched on my own
A collection that makes me smile
Among a few pieces I regret
So, about getting a tattoo...
I guess I’m not ready
Because I can’t think of a tattoo
Meaningful enough, yet
To write over any of the life I’ve lived
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
Why does it always feel like
no one's listening
when I talk?
I'm never loud enough..
Rupert Pip
You catch life
one tear at a time
to one day
fill an ocean.
I heard you liked short poems, so here's one for you.
Stacy Mills
I am just a phase
A temporary object in people's lives
I am option
No one's priority
If I'm that easily thrown away
why do I even exist
kiss me under the rain.
put me in a trance where i couldn't escape.
baby, lock me in your heart.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
Flower C
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
Next page