Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
“Aren’t we just like curtains?” I say
“How?” you ask

Well, curtains
We never really appreciate them
Until they’re gone
Not until we feel the bustling heat
Penetrate our skins during summer
Or when we can no longer hide ourselves
From the light and the world around us
When we’re already too tired to deal
With anyone, really
Because we took off
Those **** curtains

We speak of lines that spell diamonds
Majestic cars and palaces
But we fail to realize how this ordinary object
Can make a whole difference whenever
We wake up in morning
Sitting in bed, tiredly remembering what
We were going to do today
A small choice, packed with a lot of meaning
Whether we want to stay inside
Or go out and meet the world


Serving as a doorway
To the possibilities each day brings
These curtains show us the days worth living (and hiding from, if that's what you want)

And if you don’t find that ordinariness beautiful
If you don't find those moments where we stand up and try to survive the long day ahead of us
Often just waiting to see those familiar curtains again amazing
Nor can you see how curtain-like we all actually are
Then try having no curtains for a day
And see what I mean
3 AM thoughts I have while looking at my curtains.
  1d Marmaelady
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
Familiar names
Familiar brains
Familiar faces
Familiar tastes
Familiar scenes
Familiar routines

It's  something that we take for granted -

Familiarity

Because oftentimes we’re too focused on exploration
That we forget to realize not everything has
To be new and sublime
To give us life
Sometimes familiar is good enough
Hello, familiarity.
  1d Marmaelady
Rook
She lay my head into my shoulder
Soft and warm in the rain
She found me in my shelter
Though I knew she was a stray

With her frizzled hair and bared fangs
She was used to being alone.
I stroked her hair and called her name.
I never felt more at home.
  3d Marmaelady
Rook
***
The donkey was in the house today
In an effort for the farmer to get the children to stay
Some were amused
Others smelled a ruse

The plough was left unmanned outside
And the farmer promised the children all rides
So long as it stayed in the house
It was allowed

The dressed the donkey in a suit
It ate all the crops and trampled the roots
the  farmer laughed and drew it a face
They gave it praise

The donkey then broke all their beds
Tearing the naughty children’s hair out their heads
Some cried
Others still asked to ride

It had a friend, the neighbor’s dog
It was bloated and mean like a wicked bull frog
It would chase the children for breathing theirs
A guard dog thought the land was theirs.

And the children could all but wail and cry
But our farmer would just let things go by
The neighbor liked to play pretend
Our farmer thought he had a friend

Then at dinner the donkey drank all the soup
And made a mess in the hall in tiny groups
The locusts outside ravaged the farmlands
But there were no farmhands

There was just a donkey in a suit
And a farmer in his muddy work boots
Struggling to keep a fire warm
And telling their kids there still was a farm

And then he warned them not to go out
Lest the donkey kick them in the mouth
The children were not to play
But they all wanted to run away.
I choose to love
I choose to be happy
And well, ***** society if it tells us it’s beautiful to be sad
it’s  exciting to hate, to revel in misery
to wallow in unending pity
to numb yourself with a mask just to please others

No

We deserve to love
We deserve to know that we are loved
No amount of fakeness can take away this reality -
how we live our lives towards nothing, really
but that nothing can actually be made into something
if we just choose to see that while there are things worth dying for
there are also things worth living for

Life

And if I cry along the way, if I have to cling onto desperation
just to keep myself from falling back to the old me
I will
because I can and will be happy
because now I know that I have always deserved to be happy
just like everyone else

Maybe if we only choose to stop for a second and actually try to live
for what makes us happy
to search and suffer for it knowingly
to hope despite all the uncertainty
to feel and to know that the choices we make do form our reality -
who knows?

I choose.
Another spoken word poem. Had a poetry block these past few days, but now I’m back.
Might be rusty, but I’m doing my best 😌.

You will have moments like these, moments of numbness and lacks of happiness, but as long as you find it in you the hope to live and feel again, it’s okay. You can come back, love. You are in power of your own happiness. Know that.

Love, You
Next page