Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
AnxiousOcean Jan 2019
the blankets of waters had taken me
they wanted me to drown
I did not know how to swim
but I learned to breathe underwater
AnxiousOcean Nov 2018
And then the weather changed;
from a hot, burning yesterday
to a cold, freezing today.
At least it changed,
while here I am, my feelings have estranged.
I couldn’t find happiness for me to play
nor could I find sadness to pray.
None of these have exchanged,
they all went missing.
If you could find my emotions,
I am willing to give you a cent.
This emptiness is overwhelming,
Please go travel the nations.
I want something different.
my teacher just gave me a rhyming scheme of ABBAABBACDECDE
AnxiousOcean Nov 2018
As I stand here in front of you,
I can barely remember the words that I need to say.
I can barely feel my legs.
My hands are freezing.
My hands are shaking.
I can’t feel a thing.
Yet here I am... standing.

Today I am wearing my battle suit—
miles and miles of white fields of fabric
and underneath is a sea of navy blue.
This is what I wear when I enter the battlefield.
This is what I wear when I enter a war.

Even though the curtains, the clouds, the tables,
The trees, the windows, and the chairs
are well aware
that I’m no longer Interested in fighting.
And even if I already lost my will to fight,
here I am standing.

I am weak.
I am sensitive.
I am fragile.
I am naïve.
I am flawed
I am easily overwhelmed.
I’m a slow learner
I’m a coward
An anxious person
A failure; nothing but a failure
And a disappointment to everyone,
I’ve always been a disappointment

I am just a student.
I am but a piece of sponge to absorb;
comply, learn, read, and write…
even if it doesn’t feel right,
and even if I am not alright,
look at me.
I am standing.

In this world where there seems to be no light;
where the only goal is to survive,
and even if I die inside,
I will choose to fight.
I will choose to be a soldier.
I will choose to be a fighter.
For I chose to be a student
and I chose to be here… standing.
I wrote a poetry slam which I will be delivering tomorrow. It's been a long time since my last poem. :))
AnxiousOcean Oct 2018
One day,
There was a tree in my backyard.
No one knows who planted it;
no one knows who did.
But one thing for sure,
it just grew.

Today,
I asked if I could plant one,
they say I could, but not today.
For a tree is a huge responsibility
and I guess…
I am still not ready.

Each day,
I wonder how a tree grows.
Why do we need one?
And how do you get one?
Although, it is silent,
I still can feel it.

All day,
I saw a man or two
they kept on cutting trees.
They said it hurts,
but they have to
for some do need to end.

Someday,
I will plant a tree.
Or maybe someone will do it for me.
But one thing for sure,
without a reason,
a tree will just exist.
tree: a metaphor for love
AnxiousOcean Sep 2018
You will smile again,
you will laugh again,
you will glow again,
you will be happy again,
you will find peace again,
you will love again,
you will be loved again,

until...

you get hurt again.
do you consider this as a poem?
AnxiousOcean Sep 2018
I couldn't write a poem.
I couldn't make an art.
Those things I once enjoyed doing
have faded and become nothing.
Just like when a pen falls...
it starts to lose its ink.
-
some downfalls affect us negatively
AnxiousOcean Sep 2018
He suffered a lot
more than they could see,
and thought that eating could help.
He ate too much,
his weight grew much;
he regretted it.

He’s been hurt a lot
more than they would know,
and thought that sleeping could help.
He couldn’t sleep,
he couldn’t rest;
he missed it.

He’s been damaged a lot
more than they could imagine,
and thought that writing could help.
He grabbed the quill,
he knew he was ill;
he hated it.

He’s been abused a lot
more than they could understand,
and thought that dying would help.
He took his life,
he found the light;
he desired for it.
...
Next page