Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
1.2k · May 13
In a classroom
Willow Sophie May 13
You never know when you might lose something.
A bracelet, a bill, a pencil that you chewed nervously.
But sometimes, you lose a person;

I was in a classroom,
with great big tables
and walls that echoed the teenage chatter
of my class.

My love, he sat beside me.
My friends, a tad bit too loud
laughed behind us.
A modest couple
chuckle in the back.

A brilliant, clever man
with cunning yet tired eyes
look at me happily, solemnly.

A smile was traced
by his beard laced with silver
and his accent inquired professionally.

I remember how much fun he had,
how he filled the void in my soul,
how he shared his stories and wisdom.

I lost him; I miss him.
677 · May 2017
Let the Fireflies Know
Willow Sophie May 2017
Tell your secret to the nourished grass,
And your secret will be swept away by the wind.
Tell your secret to your bed-frame of rusting brass,
And let the polish cover up the secret, hidden.
Tell your secret to the flame of candlelight,
And the flame will die down before telling.
Tell your secret to the moonlit night,
And dawn will come before night can begin singing.
Tell your secret to an autumn flower,
And let it be crippled by the winter frost.
Tell your secret to the running water in your shower,
And let it spill down the drain with your secret, lost.
Tell your secret to the purest snow,
And by spring,  your secret will melt away into the well.
Tell your secret and let the  fireflies know,
And your secret can’t be retold; there is no one else to tell.
Willow Sophie Jun 17
my perspective on life
is optimistic, blissful.
while i try,
i really do,
to look on the bright side
where the sun shines.
however, obstacles
never rest
and make life bliss,
with a side of misfortune.
530 · Jul 2
Crow
The crows call for blood
unbeknownst to human kind,
so insatiable.

(11w haiku)
463 · Apr 22
Never have I ever.
Willow Sophie Apr 22
"Have you ever screamed into the night,
until your throat was raw and dusk left to hide?"

"Never have I ever."

"Have you ever walked the halls with tears streaming down your face?
Well, they might as well have been a mirror,
because of all the people who stared,
bewildered."

"Never have I ever."

"Have you ever lost someone,
and tried to fill the empty void in your soul,
only to lose that person too?

Haven't we all?

Shouldn't we all?"

"Never have I ever." they said; a blunt lie at that.
422 · Apr 22
Strings
Willow Sophie Apr 22
There are six strings
on my guitar.
Although they are different,
bigger or smaller,
louder or timid,
I need them all
to create my melody.
387 · Jul 14
Stars
Willow Sophie Jul 14
My wooden guitar,
it's rather bland,
so I'll paint a picture
of the stars.
382 · Apr 22
Ringing of Silver Bells
Willow Sophie Apr 22
Rust
on an old, silver bell.
It grew old, surely,
and the people dreaded its echo,
for it signified the presence of death.

"Who shall be taken by the Reaper?" they asked.
"Who shall suffer his wrath?"

Until the Reaper appeared, a dreary night it was,
to take Timothy McLaggen down death's path.

The people thought,
"The boy is too pure! You shan't take him whilst we breathe!"
"The boy is too good! You shan't show him what is under your malicious hood!"

But the Reaper took the boy with ease.

He was unhappy, you see
and needed to leave,
and he felt as though the Reaper
had set him free.
(--This poem does not condone suicide. I recently had someone in my life attempt it, failing, so I.. got inspired?--)
342 · Jun 11
Tuesday in London
Willow Sophie Jun 11
A clear umbrella
that let people glare
past the dewy tears of the sky
and into the mirror-like
platinum hair.

A constant clicking
of shoes on wet cobblestone
click, clack
like a clock
tik, tok.

A small tea shoppe,
with pastries and coffee,
the Italian roast just as awakening
as the refreshing rain.

The chime of the clock tower,
oh, is it midnight already?

I suppose I should retire,
a fine day it was,
I cannot deny that I love
Tuesday in London.
292 · Apr 24
The Dream Catcher
Willow Sophie Apr 24
A tale as old as time,
they say,
that the dreamcatcher woven from the cobwebs of a spider
would capture unpleasant dreams
and ban them to oblivion.

During the night,
amongst the children,
the dreamcatchers dangled upon the window panes.

However, it was not
the beaded sinew
that protected them from their own minds.

It was a mysterious spirit,
known as
the Dream Catcher.

With an enchanted fishing net,
he would steal the dreams that
tormented the children
and replace them
with dreams full of bliss.
267 · Jun 23
Comparison
Willow Sophie Jun 23
I once knew
an evil being.
His name
was Comparison.
He was shameless,
an unapologetic thief
of joy.
261 · Jul 20
Way Back When
Willow Sophie Jul 20
Do you recall
the time we spent in the woods
searching for something new
to satisfy
our curiosity?

We didn't have to worry then
when the sun and the moon remained
balanced in the sky.

We could soar through the clouds,
skip on stone,
saunter through the forest carelessly.

Do you recall
when we were free?
260 · Jun 22
foreigner
Willow Sophie Jun 22
I come from a land
far, far away
where the grass is greener
and the trees are taller
the sun rises higher.

Please forgive me
if I cannot understand
your language
or your customs,
for I am not from here
I am a foreigner.
243 · Jun 4
Marionette
Tu m'as sur des cordes
qui tirent à me fendre les poignets.
Ma tête tombe mollement,
mes yeux sommeillent.
Tu bouges les ficelles,
tu fais un spectacle de moi
dans une étreinte manipulative.  
Tu me contrôles
comme une marionnette.
230 · May 24
meaning of: no.
Willow Sophie May 24
no means no,
not that i'm timid
or hesitant,
it simply means
I entertain no wanton.
230 · Jun 25
Colour
Willow Sophie Jun 25
Show me the colour
of your heart, eyes and your soul
so I may love you.

(16w haiku)
216 · Apr 24
Velvet Guillotine
Willow Sophie Apr 24
Your touch was dangerous,
entrancing but not exaspirating,
fingers that felt like
a velvet guillotine.

I soon, unexpectedly
got cut.

The guillotine disguised
as velvet
had pierced my heart.
213 · May 21
Winged
Willow Sophie May 21
A woodpecker probes an oak for grub,
a raven cackles while perched proudly on an old wooden fence,
On the hazlenut sapling, a warbler twitters.
On the willow, a viceroy butterfly flutters.
In the sky, a hawk has narrowed eyes in search for its prey.
In a weeping birch, a dragonfly soars.
These creatures, they see the world from a different perspective,
only because they are winged.
208 · Apr 30
discomfort
Willow Sophie Apr 30
I feel cold in here
I feel uncomfortable with these people
that I grew up with, that I know
I would rather be alone.
185 · Apr 29
Mirror talk
Willow Sophie Apr 29
She wanted to speak with me
and spoke about her problems
but little did she know
I had gone through the exact same things.
184 · Jul 25
To lose my Senses #3
Willow Sophie Jul 25
What a pity
it would be
if suddenly,
I couldn't feel.

It would be bad,
to lose my hands,
but for no longer
could I work.
178 · Aug 12
Sorry, My Bad
Willow Sophie Aug 12
Within the debris,
there was the ring;
the rusty, silver ring
that held the story
of a broken oath.
176 · Jun 6
the burn of liquor
They enjoy the rebellion,
the revolution,
the adrenaline running through their veins
at the speed of light
as they embrace the burn of liquor
as it travels down their throat.
176 · Jun 22
thank you
Willow Sophie Jun 22
you're gone now,
but it wasn't a waste of time.
thank you, truly,
for the love you offered me.
175 · Apr 22
Black Pearls and Amber
Willow Sophie Apr 22
His eyes,
I remember them fondly.
Iris' like amber, and perhaps specks of citrine,
but you'd have to be close enough to gaze into them.

His pupils were dark, like black pearls
sitting in the throne of an oyster.

His eyelashes were black, like the night of a new moon,
and fluttered like the flap of a raven's wing.

Yes, I recall,
his eyes were beautiful.

The window to the soul, they say?
Well, I suppose that makes sense.
He was utter magnificence,
and his soul was beautiful too.
170 · Aug 10
To Recount One's Trysts
Willow Sophie Aug 10
I play my bowed lyre,
my mind not quite clear,
albeit I did not imbibe.

Chagrin is strummed
as I tell myself the tales
of my trysts.

Now I sit near the hearth
watching the log lessen in size,
turning to ash.

I cannot elude this aberration,
I feel the forlorn tug of my heartstrings;
my meretricious panoply of remorse shall stay within me
until my heart has become turgid with sorrow,  
until I cease to roam this world.
166 · Jun 22
cream and sugar
Willow Sophie Jun 22
the barista asks
"milk? cream? sugar?"
i'd like cream and sugar,
please.
i don't take black,
it's far too strong.
i have a bit of a sweet tooth,
and it's always far more present
in the morning.
164 · May 2017
Mirror, Mirror
Willow Sophie May 2017
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?
You look in the mirror
A mere object, reflects
Reflects you, reflects what you see
The mirror cannot tell you, you are fairest
Unless you tell yourself, you are fairest
Fairest in your eyes
Fairest in the mirror
For the mirror, the mere mirror
It reflects
Unless you are seen as the fairest by yourself
The mirror will never see the fairest
Watch the mirror forevermore
And see the fairest
The mirror, the mere mirror
Will see you as fairest
See
163 · Jul 2
Cellar
I am locked in the wine cellar,
supposedly punished,
yet I may easily quench my thirst
and forget my pain
by drinking from the barrels.
161 · Jun 28
Candle
Willow Sophie Jun 28
The flame dances,
orange, with a hint of blue.
It's a simple,
green taper candle.
As nightfall approaches,
I blow the flame
and a simple breath
wisps it away
leaving black smoke
in it's wake.
161 · Apr 24
The Phoenix
Willow Sophie Apr 24
I was burned,
my ashes were scattered to the wind,
and I felt helpless.

My wings were taken
like those of Lucifer
and I couldn't help but feel
weakened.

Alas,
a spark ignited
and I knew I was stronger.

The sensation,
it was like a euphoria of fire
blazing through my veins.

I felt as though
I was being reborn
like a Phoenix.
Dedicated to my mother, the strongest woman I know.
160 · May 28
Prudence
Willow Sophie May 28
Tu devrais être prudent,
mais ne crains pas l'obscurité,
utilise la sagesse de tes cicatrices
pour t'aider à t’évader
la nuit.
159 · Jun 25
Sakura
Willow Sophie Jun 25
The cherry blossoms,
such beautiful pink petals,
well, wouldn't you say?

(11w haiku)
159 · Apr 22
chaotic paradise
Willow Sophie Apr 22
As I walk,
one foot in front of the other,
I can't help but feel as though
I am in a chaotic paradise.
157 · Jun 23
70's
Willow Sophie Jun 23
Free love was a scent in the air
and the psychedelic illusions
of LSD ever present,
the strum of beautiful music
and poetic lyrics,
those were the years,
that was the 70's.
156 · May 6
disbelief
Am I really seeing stars
that create constellations
or do my eyes deceive me?

Do I wake every morning
whether it be a golden sun or a raging gale
and smell persimmon?

If it is real,
so help me,
I love it.
153 · Apr 22
H i d d e n
Willow Sophie Apr 22
The man who wore the dashing tailcoat and brass monacle
was always fascinated by how everything is hidden.
He was considered isolated, introverted, perhaps even rude,
but in actuality, he hid from things hidden.
The sheer silk pillowcase on one’s pillow, which hid the feathers of pheasant.
The crimson carpet, which hid the cold floor,
which hid the Earth beneath it.
The clothing on the backs of every human being,
no matter satin, cotton or twine,
it hid one’s skin, thus their vulnerability, from the world.
Alas, as the dashing man sighed,
he could no longer investigate his fascination.
For he knew, under the fabric, whether the finest silk or derived from poverty,
hid skin.
And skin, it covers up the hideous, unspeakable secrets that no one should know.
144 · Jun 6
Not Smitten
The apparent gentry
written upon their faces
by an ostrich feather quill.
Thus, not smitten,
rather inconsiderate,
they are.
So, turn,
avoid piercing eyes.
142 · Aug 5
O Godmother
'O godmother, open your mind to me and tell me of your woe!'

'My dread spouse, he is to joust on the morrow's night; Death cannot accompany him, else I shall be left bereft!'

'O godmother, he is no longer a marauder; he shan't greet Death on the verdant hill where he shall joust,'

'My dread spouse, what will he suffer if he were to fail?'

'O godmother, ye of little faith! Your dread spouse shall joust with a fiery spirit,'

'My dread spouse, what would become of me if he survived, only gaiety!'

'O godmother, worry not, for he shall battle under a gibbous waning moon, a good omen surely!'

'My dread spouse, if he shall be pierced by an arrow whilst on his stallion, I shall weep to the moon!'

'O godmother, if his blood is to stain grass browned by heat, he will lay peacefully knowing his courage.'
136 · Jul 16
Alpha Centauri
Willow Sophie Jul 16
We are like
the alpha centauri;
orbiting each other,
chasing,
in a universe we can call our own
amongst the stars.
134 · Aug 6
Reciting, so Inviting
Such fervour as thee recites the deciphered text of Gods, your vehemence is impressive.

'How agog, you are, from where do you find that spark?' I inquired.

'Only the fiery spirit of the life before mine.'
134 · May 24
La Dame Blanche
Willow Sophie May 24
Elle avait la peau de porcelaine,
des yeux malicieux,
une sourire narquois.
La forêt verdoyante
était sa place de refuge,
où elle pourrait parler à l'homme
dans la lune
sans problème.
Au dessous de la lumière formidable
de la pleine lune,
les personnes du village l'appelaient
la dame blanche.
133 · Jun 14
Compromise
Willow Sophie Jun 14
I could no longer
stay in a place
in which I did not belong.
I hoped you would compromise,
fight with love on your side.
Alas, it was too difficult,
too much of a burden
for you to fight for me,
for you to keep me,
for you to love me.
132 · Jun 6
Sweater
I was always so engaged,
curious to see what my fingertips could create,
what litterature my mind thought of.
I sat, brooding over the words to come.
He addressed me with a grin
and told me I needed to hide from the world
to explore my imagination.
Handing me his sweater,
I held it over my head,
writing my heart out
as my imagination soared.
132 · Aug 6
Healing Hands
Thee is so deeply versed in the art;
bind my wounds, eliminate my chagrin
with your practiced eyes,
calloused hands- do me this favour,
if you please;
I am afraid I cannot offer you fame and riches,
but I can offer thee my generosity;
I shall bring you rye when you so desire
and bring sinew for you clothes;
thread my wound with the needle cleansed by wine,
thank you,
I am in your debt.
132 · Jun 26
End of the Tunnel
Willow Sophie Jun 26
Don't wait for someone else
to create the light
at the end of the tunnel.
Do it yourself,
whether you use the end of a cigarette
or a torch,
let a little flame
that you made
lead you out of your misery.
126 · Jun 6
1¨9¨6¨7
1967
a year full of ancient love,
of vintage records
and tarnished silver.
124 · Jun 26
Henna
Willow Sophie Jun 26
A temporary print on my skin,
no particular meaning,
but beautiful nevertheless.
122 · May 28
Interrupted, isolated.
Willow Sophie May 28
I may be adorned with eye-catching jewels,
and yet,
I am sitting, lonesome.
A large table that takes up so much space,
and I'm here alone,
listening to derogatory terms
thrown about like
compliments.
121 · Jun 29
Lines
Willow Sophie Jun 29
I have many a pencil,
but none of them
would be sufficient
to sketch the lines of your face
as you smile.
Next page