DarknessPrevails - Hello Poetry

There is a gravel road, Sludgy, puddles, wet, Towering trees encase it, Imposing, dark, secretive, My shoes are soaked, Puddle, road, socks, My Legs are cut, Bruised, scarred, bleeding, And my hands tremble, Fear, solitude, blank, And clothes are torn, Ragged, creased, encasing, Cars drive by, Unmoving, disregarding, blind, And I walk, And my shoes are soaked, And my legs are cut.

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Dec 7, 2025

Dec 7, 2025 at 7:38 AM UTC

Lonesome road

There is a gravel road, Sludgy, puddles, wet, Towering trees encase it, Imposing, dark, secretive, My shoes are soaked, Puddle, road, socks, My Legs are cut, Bruised, scarred, bleeding, And my hands tremble, Fear, solitude, blank, And clothes are torn, Ragged, creased, encasing, Cars drive by, Unmoving, disregarding, blind, And I walk, And my shoes are soaked, And my legs are cut.

17

A boy is sitting on a swing, The swing is swinging, The sun is shining it's golden light, The golden light from the golden sun, And the pages of the boy's book, Are also shining, with the same golden light, They flutter around in the wind, The same wind that flicks the leaves, Of the oak from which the swing hangs, And the boy's hair flutters too, golden, like the golden light from the golden sun, And the swing overlooks a cliff edge, And beyond lies an ocean, The waves gently gliding along the cliff, And the golden light from the golden sun, Glistens on the expansive water, But the boy doesn't see this, He sees the words on the page, but not the words themselves, But their collective meaning, And the golden light from the golden sun, Illuminates these words, And gives them meaning. And therefore the boy does see it, The golden light from the golden sun.

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Nov 20, 2025

Nov 20, 2025 at 3:57 AM UTC

The golden light from the golden sun

A boy is sitting on a swing, The swing is swinging, The sun is shining it's golden light, The golden light from the golden sun, And the pages of the boy's book, Are also shining, with the same golden light, They flutter around in the wind, The same wind that flicks the leaves, Of the oak from which the swing hangs, And the boy's hair flutters too, golden, like the golden light from the golden sun, And the swing overlooks a cliff edge, And beyond lies an ocean, The waves gently gliding along the cliff, And the golden light from the golden sun, Glistens on the expansive water, But the boy doesn't see this, He sees the words on the page, but not the words themselves, But their collective meaning, And the golden light from the golden sun, Illuminates these words, And gives them meaning. And therefore the boy does see it, The golden light from the golden sun.

24

No respect is given to the clown, that dances before the children, And writes the quadratic theorem down, at which no one even glances. No patience nor silence is spared, It's hoarded by the children, The clown is ignored and ridiculed, As if he wasn't there. The bell goes and the children with it, no waiting for a dismissal, The clown is left alone with his act, that was prepared last night so tediously. And the clown goes home, the make up won't come off, the wig is stuck, the red nose too, Despite the struggle of the clown, The white paint smears the pillow and the sheets, the wig prevents the head from resting, the joke was never finished nor started, yet dismissed regardless. And the teacher lies in bed, the teacher whom no one ever heard, a simple clown, a jester or performer, An act performed alone.

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Nov 11, 2025

Nov 11, 2025 at 4:36 PM UTC

A clown's act

No respect is given to the clown, that dances before the children, And writes the quadratic theorem down, at which no one even glances. No patience nor silence is spared, It's hoarded by the children, The clown is ignored and ridiculed, As if he wasn't there. The bell goes and the children with it, no waiting for a dismissal, The clown is left alone with his act, that was prepared last night so tediously. And the clown goes home, the make up won't come off, the wig is stuck, the red nose too, Despite the struggle of the clown, The white paint smears the pillow and the sheets, the wig prevents the head from resting, the joke was never finished nor started, yet dismissed regardless. And the teacher lies in bed, the teacher whom no one ever heard, a simple clown, a jester or performer, An act performed alone.

23

He stands stiff, unmoving, yet on others imposing, arrogant beyond comprehension, disregarding reason, he bends the words he uses, and the words of others too, distorts the words until they shatter, like empty glass bottles, no resistance can withstand his pressure, with which he crushes the others. Like a tree he stands tall, yet leans to block the sun, and the leaves burn with their own hellish light, and burn the skin with their brimstone tongues, but the crackling screams and deafens the other. And the branches scratch and pierce, scarring out and within, burning within and out, all burn, all together. an ember turns a beautiful garden into the fiercest hell.

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Nov 11, 2025

Nov 11, 2025 at 11:02 AM UTC

The Fire without Warmth

He stands stiff, unmoving, yet on others imposing, arrogant beyond comprehension, disregarding reason, he bends the words he uses, and the words of others too, distorts the words until they shatter, like empty glass bottles, no resistance can withstand his pressure, with which he crushes the others. Like a tree he stands tall, yet leans to block the sun, and the leaves burn with their own hellish light, and burn the skin with their brimstone tongues, but the crackling screams and deafens the other. And the branches scratch and pierce, scarring out and within, burning within and out, all burn, all together. an ember turns a beautiful garden into the fiercest hell.

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