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 Sep 2022 More Love
Zoe Grace
Please
 Sep 2022 More Love
Zoe Grace
I really dont know
How i feel at all, but i
Want to feel loved please.
 Feb 2022 More Love
Notepad
Embers
 Feb 2022 More Love
Notepad
Don't ever forget
It's okay to disappear
You still have yourself
The wildfire that burns bright
The love that spreads like embers
Don't tell yourself different,
We all spark wonderfully


 Jan 2022 More Love
My Dear Poet
How can I
stop you
from not
leaving

I don’t want
you
not to go

You say my
words are
confusing

What can I
not say
to
have you
stay
 Jan 2022 More Love
labyrinth
All I want is one more chance
To live my life from scratch
 Jul 2021 More Love
Bus Poet Stop
Ha ha on me.   eye still have a full head, of laughing hair...


eye am vain like you, and though advancing steadily with daily doses of aging, and since I am titanicaly nearer my God than thee, i.e. the finish line...end of days...whatever...having a nice head of hair is a happy happenstance for nothing "ages" an immature person faster than a lack or absence of hair....

some say it is all genetic....could be...but my theory is different...I laugh at myself all the time...my foolish words, my creasing vices, my dastardly prejudices, are absurd in extremis...and am in possession of a willingness to be the **** of my own humor to bring creased smiles in others's to the fore...

though serious, I don't  take myself seriously...and this self disrespect means I laugh at my own pomposity, posterior and peculiarly peculiar peculiarities.

So I laugh a lot as I am one of those idiots who reflects on the state of himself and goes, eye eye eye!

the laughing releases a dosed vial of special testosterone which makes my hair grow and since I fully expect much sorrow and to be living homeless, on the streets, in my end of days, the fact that I will have a full head of hair as I go down into my grave makes me laugh which releases....

ha ha on me
 May 2018 More Love
Nat Lipstadt
0 followers?

Dear New Poet:

Then I'm your man,
your very own
Northern star,
one leg up of a
3 legged stool,
upon which all,
we, enthroned poets,
the world-over,
do rule

the honor you
bequeath me  
to be,
a first follower,
your very own
first responder,

it, cannot be
disdained
nor
diminished
this instance,
this birth,
a novice revival,
heart transplant,
makes it
the sweetest blessing
to be the first—

let us be
the quencher
of a desert thirst so long
in the parching,
the throat burning,
by a desert sojourning,
of a now ending
forty times
four hundred years

so come to me!
message me a message,
find me a find,
your poem fine,
so now we vow,
our embrace will
ne’er be broken

give me this
honorific!
let us together
be terrific,
raise our glasses,
with arms entwined
toasting you and
all that mind and 
breasted chest of yours,
full bursting from
its future~contains,
of which,
its full release,
brings a fuller life
for us both

I am a father.
I am a grandfather.
I am a First Follower.
and a First Responder,
for all who need a leg up,
so step upon my heart,
it be but a first step upon a
ladder with no top, no end ensighted

my legs are as old as time, but,
measure me not by the rings and 
the metered scales of gray hair aging,
shock of white, a cain mark, wizard-wizened
but
by the muscles
of my deep affection,
the solemnity of this,
my irrevocable promise
this,
the blessing
we both make and earn, 
when you write,
and while we wait,
in quiet attendance -
for all of your good works,
your kept promises

Blessed
are You Lord our God, 
Ruler of the Universe
who has given us life, 
sustained us until now,
allowing anf alloying
treader and the writer, 
to reach,  meet, embrace
and greet this day,
this new born poem,
with hallelujahs
whispering and shoutings
together, one
love to chat & encourage new poets
lightly edited Aug. 2025
mom
my mom is like a museum
in a chaotic city
full of art and talents.
even in a environment chaotic
brings me peace
 May 2018 More Love
witchy woman
I could never tell you
exactly what's going on inside my head,
so I'll write instead.
Drown my thoughts in paper & lead.
Keep my hands alive,
and my expression dead.
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