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Foreigner Soralen
I've bled
Till my veins run dry
My bones
Are shattered and broken

The ink
From my pen drags,
Then pools and
Blots the page
As I let it

All my energy
Siphoned from memories,
Has now diminished
I take my last breath
As  I allow
My small boat
To be pitched across
By the winds and waves

WendyStarry Eyes
Of yesterday's nights
Floating through
Her heart ❤
Spewing through
Eyes in tears
Brightening her path
She now feels to be darkness
Stars rebirth light
Into a future filled
Unending delight
UA Slam
I try and paint a picture of what happiness looks like to me,
but for some reason it always comes out blank.
I try and use my poetry to describe the feeling of what I want my happiness to be,
and I become confused and the words jumble into nothingness.
I sometimes see this as a sign that I was never meant to be happy.
That my happiness is subjected to become something I could never understand or apprehend.
I grew up thinking happiness was for everyone.
I later learned about depression and found that everything was a lie.
My friends ask me what makes me happy,
and the only thing that comes up is the idea and concepts of what happiness is,
but I never can say what my happiness is.
I know I want Love,
~ Gabriel G
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
Mark Parker
A rose blooming in a summer rose bed
stops to envy you as you smell the roses.
For two beauties sit in the picture,
but neither is the rose.
The sight of you is a wonder to my eyes,
one that keeps me warm through winter days.
The grace inside you is as beauty
and beyond my words to explain.
So when I fumble my syllables,
embrace me as the rose embraces the rain.
My scarfaced TSA prince
I see you on imvu and
I just want you
As we talk my
Body aches for you
My heart aches for when we can work
And be together
I pine for your presence
Your love
And touch
Raelyn Burkhart
so i’ll grab my needle and thread and start mending my heart back
but i’ll leave some strands loose in case you decide to come back
John Destalo
floating alone
in the ocean

there are two gods

the sun and
the moon

rule the

creating extremes
in feelings

and faith
bi-polars of

pure light and
deep dark

and what is clear
in these moments

that happiness
comes and goes

in waves
A writers mind is a splash of fertile paint upon a wall.

We shake the brush and sit and watch the living colours fall.
Falling down from the sky 
are diamonds that won't run dry. 
Bringing storm that won't go by
to make all fears outcry.
There's always a point in my life where I suffer from anxieties. A painful thinking about the things that I always dream about but couldn't chase. It always rain me on. You know... when you realize that all your desires, your dreams and goals... They are easy to come like a rain but is just really hard to attain. That's what makes me a coward with a lot of stupid thinking. A foolish mind saying that I can't do it, I'm a loser, I can't have it. Until I become someone who let doubts and insecurities grow as my confident and faith to myself go down.

I'm not sharing this poem so you could be like me. But to warn you that having dreams that you won't even chase can drown you. I hope you get what I mean.
Don't let those shiny dreams become only a view. Act up and work hard so it would come true.

POEMS OF THE RAIN, Copyright © 2020
Sam N. de la Rosa
All Rights Reserved.
Infamous one
Life can change and be drastic
Sometimes for the better
Others times it can be complicated
Meet the right sometimes the wrong
A kiss turned into love
Relationships that ends on bad terms
Tired of loss and starting over
From making moves to stuck
Hard to move or do anything
Expectation leads to disappointment
Pursuing the chase lost its thrill
Not fun anymore or the same
Lust mistaken for love
Middle of summer

Middle of desert

near 50 degrees

No one agrees

To have an ice cream

We ...

Wanna be an ice cream!

Even nights still burning

With no tired sun

With no fun!

Kisses like an acid

A forbidden added

We Wanna ...





It is the one king!

I like it ...

Watermelon juice


No sugar dose

Have it so cold

As we called ...

Wanna be an ice cream!
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
“Help” Yesterday 00:00
Text is left on “read”
But rightly I await reply
Dear effervescent spring spirit,
With all of your power to move
heaven and earth
Why can’t I hear from you
Even a singular sigh?
Up so high
Which just gave me
More room to fall
And still no reply

“Help” Yesterday and Today 24:00
The earth doesn’t stop turning,
the sun doesn’t stop shining.  
Rivers rush and
carry everything away.
But the pinnacle under the microscope
refuses to let me feel,
and the last drop of liquor
is always too hard to resist.
Samantha Szumloz
Hurtful words rip through the sky
Arrows dipped in a lethal poison
Penetrating the flesh of the good
Keen heads embedded in tickers
They don't go through me
Not even an inch of their bodies
My heart is protected by confidence
Like what a knight wears on his back

Just something I whipped up. I couldn't write it last night because it was so late.
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.
I want to write that in front of every achievement
I want to write it at the head of every poem I write

And I don’t think I will be able to create anything
At least, nothing I am proud of
Without an asterisk explaining
This is my depression work

For depression affects everything
Infects everything
Dims my worldview and
Makes me irrational, hypocritical and
Turns me into someone I am ashamed to be

Depression takes away half of my once-brilliant mind
It leeches off my creativity
Drains the enchanting, poetic optimism inside me
Until everything I think, everything I create, everything I am
Disgusts me

Just as a reminder
This is my depression work
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
the first time i broke a boy’s heart
i cried as i watched his love bleed for me
it poured out into my hands and still sticks to my hair this day
i smell its death in the wind

now, i break hearts with no pain, no remorse
i watch the light flee from their eyes and i no longer cry
what it’s like to be me?

feel nothing
create chaos
feel nothing
I realize this
is the end
we will become
strangers again
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
The love you never had
The pain you always carried
The trust you never showed
The guilt you were consumed by
The joy you were seeking
The anger you held inside

The rest of them could never see
But I did
Because I was once like you
Why does it always feel like
no one's listening
when I talk?
I'm never loud enough..
i looked down
twenty three stories

tears in my eyes
legs shaking

every intention
of falling head first

you see— i was just so tired
of having to land
on my feet
so many people
are so tired
of having to be so strong
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
My memories are fading
My life is but a petty existence
My mind is foggy
I can't feel a thing
I can't think clearly
I have to be coddled
So I don't accidentally hurt myself
This is just an episode
It will change
I'll be myself
Perhaps tomorrow
But not today
My life continues on in the distance
Like my life is a movie
I feel so empty
I feel so useless
They came, I heard them clear, on a windy white winter's night
Their eyes were shadowed and dark, their torches burning bright
They pried the family from their beds, and beat him in the street
They took her and then left her, dying at her husband's cold feet
Then they turned to walk away, for they would not harm a child
A fair and lovely thing was she, but now she looked quite wild
She grabbed a nearby knife and gave her neck a pretty red bow
And then she fell with a muffled thud, making an angel in the snow
I'm really scared,
I fear bugs and flying insects,
But they are not my biggest fears,
I fear worms and spiders,
But they are not my major fear,
Even if I sum up all my fears,
Everything I'm most scared of it still can't compete with one,
The fear of You,
I fear that one day you will become we,
I fear that one day we will become three,
I fear that one day three will have a dog,
Such beautiful fears I have of you,
I'm really scared,
That one day you will walk away,
And leave me fearless.
Peter Balkus
Poets remember
snows in July
and sweaty heatwaves in December.
Wistful moonlight blush
Accents the dim of sorrow
For life unfulfilled
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.
I fell in love with candlelight-
in my darkness, she shone so bright.
She danced the breeze, lit up the night,
her glow consumed my very sight.

But wax and wick both burn away,
and candlelight just cannot stay.
As sure as night turns into day,
that fickle flame will go astray.

But for a moment, through the storm,
she lit my world, she kept me warm,
then flickered out, as is the norm
for candlelight, its fleeting form.

I fell in love with candlelight,
for but a moment, all was right.
Her glow, her dance, consumed my sight,
and faded out at end of night.
luna imagery
Once there was a boy
Who stood in front the mirror
For so long he drowned
He was gasping for air but
No one saw him but himself
The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do?

It wasn’t letting you go.

That was difficult though, to swallow my pride and wear a smile to hide the fact I’m not okay.

Oh no, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? Was finally admit to myself the truth.

It was admitting that you were never mine to begin with.
I wear makeup to work,
So people treat me better.

I work with fish.
I get covered in slime.
I don't make tips.
(Not that, that is acceptable)
I have a fiance.
I'm off market.
I'm not there to impress anyone.

No makeup.
I'm ignored.
My credentials are questioned more.
They pick fights.
They behave poorly.

With makeup well,
I only have to deal with one creepy person.

I wear makeup to work,
So people treat me better.
michael cera
loved drink,

more than a loved one.

nothing as heartbreaking,

as one who could never love you.

i learned and lost,

and left a soul,

to have everything and lose.
twice by god's accidental interference,
our crash vehicles, super sized shopping carts,
connect, we are manger-penalized for unnecessary roughness
and disturbing the supermarkets peace

what better way to judge character than to examine
a single persons shopping cart  contents?

all organic, milk, heirloom tomatoes, even the Chardonnay,
grown upon the farms of the island and vineyards on
the forks that shelter the isle from the ravages of the Atlantic

Hebrew National franks, yellow mustard,
very classy brioche buns, a six pack of Corona Light,
and funny colored, funny looking, rusted russet potato chips

with a tremulous smile, and an overly loud, derisive sniff,
pronounces me dead man walking sooner than later,
to which, I respond,
then, teach me, where shall we dine tonight?

later that night,
after a thousand kisses of her fluttering eyelashes,
she props herself upon an elbow and
in a tone sincere and caring,
extracts from the poet promises of
natural exclusivity

from now on, healthy, natural only, organic and pure,
from the soul soil of our shared habitat

her suntan skin, garden-digging hand, I clasp,
softly climbing on top of her,
announce with total genuine sincerity and solemnity;

I swear it, from now on, all my loving will be sourced locally

rewarded with a laugh and a gentle but hard enough,
garden to table (with her free hand), head smacking,
I noting nod, good naturedly
that both the laugh and smack,
as well,

sourced locally,
sourced lovingly,

which then seeded
this new only love jointly authored poem,
planted in our mingling blossoming crashing

5/29/17 i
Flower C
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
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.
She said,
“I wish I had done something special,”
“Like saving somebody’s life.”
I looked in her eyes,
And simply replied,
“Oh but my dear,”
“You did.”
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