Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I wonder where my mind has gone
out in the walks along the gravestones
sunken 6 feet deep
and pushing up daisies

I like to think (and I bet they are happy they don't)
that one day I'll meet the man of my dreams
and we will sit 6 feet underneath with
words saying "together since..."

I hope that I'm too picky for this,
or not picky enough
I like too many boys and non of them stick
because i'm afraid that no one could love me

for who I am and will stay.
So, i'll just hope that I can sink
and push up daisies for
all the other couples still living,
the great great great great great granddaughters and sons
to admire on their walks through nature's vast landscape.

And GOD I hope you're up there,
because this existential dilemma will bring me to my grave
and I just hope you'll meet me there
because you're the only one I would really need anyways.
 Jan 2017 Rhiannon
Alex Baldwin
Thump. Thump. Thump.
That's the sound of your heart,
Thump. Thump. Thump.
That means you are alive,
Thump. Thump. Thump.
All of your cells, all of your beautiful cells,
Thump. Thump. Thump.
They are here for you,
Thump. Thump.
You didn't listen.
Thump. Thump.
You didn't care.
Thump. Thump.
You were in so much pain,
Thump. Thump.
The bullying,
The screaming,
The pain
Thump.
Everything, stopped,
Including the pain.
 Jan 2017 Rhiannon
Emmy
Images
 Jan 2017 Rhiannon
Emmy
I hope I make your hands tremble
Make your heart shake
Cause an earthquake in your veins
Come
Come
Let me in
To hold your heart
To hold your hand
Whisper taps on the window panes of my mind
Drop like droplets
On your skin
Bump, bump
Thump
Do I make your heart race?
Racing like the wind through barren standing silhouettes    
My hands warm in the radiance of your sunshine
Shine
Shine
Glitter glitch
Do I make your heart race? Your skin itch?
Sly, touch and smile
So soft, sensual
Your eyes speak melodies
Let me harmonize
To the breath your lungs breathe
Do I make your heart race?
 Jan 2017 Rhiannon
Petal pie
Button
 Jan 2017 Rhiannon
Petal pie
My home is in a vintage tin
Belonged to your great grandma
With many other varied breeds
Our cousins sorted into jars

I'm often fastened up tight
In British stiff collared fashion
Occasionally burst off
When shirts are ripped open
In the haste of frisky passion

In my other guise
When I am tapped
I connect you worldwide
My neighbour form words and stories
Whilst I encrypt some code for spies.

Machinery, you really need me
To start and then to stop
To raise alarm bells
And when pressed call the cops

I'm a round reminder
Of how life began
Innie or outie and proud
Of how mum's body nurtured your
In utero life-span

Dangerous in the wrong hands
I must be closely guarded
For if you press me
World war three
Could easily be started
 Jan 2017 Rhiannon
hazael-fae
My head went quiet
all the feelings that I have ever felt were ******* in a knot
and all I had to do was untie it.
gripping on thread by thread
as the tension built up
so did the thoughts in my head
No eyes will parse
My squiggled lines,
With meaning clear
Enough to slap your face.

Their joy is in the search-
The digging out of what
Is longed for, in the
Most obscurant phrases.

No hand will tousle
Rumpled hair
On recognizing that
Another saw the selfsame bud

And helped unfold it
To a bloom, so
Those in later times
Can share the fragrance.

No lips will purse
On being told
With unmistaken
Clarity what is,

For that's a lesson
Not adventure
And the readers
Have dressed up for the hunt.
                    ljm
I was once told  "If it's not obscure, it's not poetic".    Really?
Next page