Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 9270° 
Rupert Pip
You catch life
one tear at a time
to one day
fill an ocean.
I heard you liked short poems, here's one for you.
 4424° 
luna imagery
"boy"
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
 411° 
Prevost
She loved onions
I would mix them
with the grass salad
I picked for her in the early spring
Then
Laying under a sky
So deep and so blue
It soothed the aching soul
It was too vast to have borders
She blanketed existence
Tierra and all
her servants
Under the kingdom of the gods
We were more sky
Than earth
Lifted above the dirt and din
Given purity sanctum entwined
We exposed our souls
To each other
And when I tasted her
She bled
The sacred taste of onions....
 250° 
Nidhi Jaiswal
Life spent with someone,
For a lifetime may be meaningless,
But a few moment spent with,
Someone who really loves you,
Means that more than life itself!!!!

🦋🦋🦋
Real meaning of life...🦋🦋🦋
Thanks for reading.
nidhi jaiswal.
 198° 
Kate Cameron
Was I ever alone
Everything was with me
Except you
 194° 
Butterfly
Eventhough I'm a bit young, I just want to feel loved for once.
 184° 
Emmanuel Davies
No one is to be trusted
Note!!
I didn't say
No one is worthy of your trust
 164° 
Jake Lukasz Taylor
and we
won't just
  survive
    but we'll
      thrive till
        we're five
           and make
              peace with
                 our hearts
                     till we're
                         feeling
                              alive
                                   and my
                                        puppy-
                                               eyed
                                                     lover
                                                            will talk
                                                                   to the
                                                                          sky and
                                                                               we'll drift
                                                                                      through the
                                                                                              night till
                                                                                                      we're free
 132° 
Shamai
The words come forward
Like a never ending stream
Of flowing
Water jewels
That take on the hue
Of sparkling gems
That want to find a home
In the pupils
Of my mind
 126° 
Carlo C Gomez
To thine own naked lunch be true.

Nonetheless,
she knows where from the prolonged gaze
resides.

She knows it's as central to life
as a breath of newborn air.

Yet, she confronts it,
she queries it.

Why must love
Be thunder and hunt?

Why can't it stretch it's limbs out,
languid in the diffused light?

Like morning awakening
to bluebell carpets in soft spring,

Where the revealed flesh can
unfadingly upon float.

When will it learn to sit with her,
quietly, and partake
of such nakedness together...?
Inspired by the renowned painting by Édouard Manet (c. 1862-1863)
 96° 
blackbiird

Even a tortured soul
needs a place to cry.
I’m so glad
That you’re my
place.

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.
 80° 
Eleo C Nora
it spits
as i lean
over my
balcony
and
count
golden
leaves on
the wet
road -
fall begins
too soon.
 72° 
min
satan said he’d meet me soon
so i shall wait for the blood moon
i’d travel to hell not knowing why
i’d disappear without saying goodbye

satan said i’d stay in his arms
right after falling for his charms
i’d lay with him playing dead
unaware he’s a cloud in my head

satan said i shall come with him
he’ll take me to the darkest grim
i nodded and wore my brand new eyes
and now hell is just another paradise.
i wrote this poem in may 2020 with the man i like as an inspiration. :)
 69° 
Dr Peter Lim
So many place their trust
        not in the present but in the past
 63° 
Bree
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
following on with my current obsession with my tomato growing experiment, ive decided to look at books, and films, and any other related tomato themes, as follows:

The Tomatoes Of Wrath-Steinbeck

A Midsummer Night's Tomato-Shakespeare

Tomato And Juliet-Ditto

Frankentomato-Shelley

Alice in Tomatoland-Carrol

Night Of The Living Tomato-zombie horror!

E.T.- Extra Tomato!

Tomatoes And Prejudice-Austen

I Heard It On The Tomato Vine-Marvin Gaye

You're So Vine- Carly Simon

Summertime (and the living is tomato)-Ella Fitzgerald

LGBT-LGB+Tomato

BY Jemia de Tomatoville 😏🍅🍅🍅🦋💕🙄

any other suggested ideas welcome, as i may bring out a book on the subject (but thankfully, probably won't!) and will, or not, call it Tomato Wrong!
 56° 
Keith Wilson
I went to the bank
It was misty and raining
I arrived
needing some money
I had forgotten my pin number
probably stemming from the lockdown
Eventually I got it right
took my money
and went home
singing
 51° 
Emily
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
 45° 
bugsy
so the days slipped by, each one so alike I barely noticed the months past.
 42° 
muna
Why does it always feel like
no one's listening
when I talk?
I'm never loud enough..
 40° 
raquezha
Nadangog ko na naman
An pagbagting kan saiyang púsò
Garo baga igwang nagkakasulô
Pinukaw an pagmati kong nag-aarabadab
Ngunyan na banggi
Hahalaton ko an saiyang pagdungáw
Sa sakuyang bentana
Ika an sakuyang kometa
Na hali pa sa ibang planeta
Ika an ráson kun tàno
mapúngay an sakuyang mata
Dai ko mahali an saiyang gira sa buhay ko
Ngunyan na banggi
Tabangan mo akong makaturog
Ibahan mo ako sa madiklom na kinaban
Tabangan mo akong labanan an mga demonyo
Hahalaton ko an pagbagsak mo
Sa ulonán ko.

—𝐔𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧, a Bikol poetry.
1. https://www.instagram.com/p/CDeSSXcHb3y/
 40° 
Ugo Victor
It's taken me years
Of writing and reading,
Living,
Giving and receiving,
Love
To realise;
Love is simple
It's humans
That are complicated
 35° 
misha
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

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
 35° 
HaleyBoo
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.
 34° 
Adriane
I seat on a chair with three and a half
Legs. Listen to breath escape from life.
I hear you when you don't talk, staring.

At the pervading silence. You see their
Eyes, a gallery of glances. They are

Waiting. In your mind: Paint on water,
Chains in sleeves and bed and a dreamer.
The answer is somewhere, with someone.

In between pages familiar and strange.
A meeting of two souls.

Written by my https://hellopoetry.com/imka/
 31° 
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.
 30° 
BW
You loved me
On your terms.
So I left you on mine
 29° 
Maria Etre
If I see it
then it is

If I hear it
then it is

If I taste it
then it is

If I read it
then it's
a different
story
If I see what you see, and they see it too, that doesn't mean I am crazy!
i have a little kitten he just loves to grin
as i stroke his fur underneath his chin

he begins to purr as peaceful as can be
i can see him smile as he looks at me.

then he falls asleep while sat upon my knee
to his land of smiles with his life so free
 28° 
Flower C
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
 27° 
amanda
i may have despised
for the longest time
that she was your sun

but you’re my moon

and i guess what
i’m trying to say is—

every one of my nights
would be darker
without her light
all over you
i wouldn’t have ryan
if ryan didn’t have courtney

she’s a hot and necessary evil
for my hot and brilliant
best friend
 27° 
REY
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.
 26° 
Annika
The simplest form of
I love you is
I miss you…
 26° 
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
 26° 
erin
what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
but
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms
indistinguishable

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists
Next page