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 Jun 2018 Mathilde
kris evans
gaze
 Jun 2018 Mathilde
kris evans
nothing ever so lovely....
caught my attention so far,
though smeared and melancholy,
its splendor spoilt in mar,

yet they recite in wean,
the lyrical memoir
of the eyes hazel green,
brimming with desire....
 May 2018 Mathilde
bron
"blond hair, black lungs."


Cigarettes kissed her lips
Like someone who didn't deserve her.
Both promised her dreams of happiness
Both delivered internal hurting.
Soft lips led to a damaged heart,
Like the kiss of smoke filled lungs.

Sometimes we just don’t care though.
We hold that cigarette in between our lips,
We breathe in that someone who will surely hurt us.
All for the hope that
these moments that they are on our lips
Might somehow last forever.


"blonde hair, black lungs."
Well, I'm addicted to cigs I guess
 May 2018 Mathilde
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
 May 2018 Mathilde
lexi
the beach
 May 2018 Mathilde
lexi
The warm, blue waves
lapping at the fine sand
eating it away
The bright, yellow sun
gazing down at everyone
radiating heat
and warmth
people laughing
and smiling
a gentle breeze
to cool everything down
I close my eyes
and listen to the rolling waves
and for a second
everything
is perfect
 May 2018 Mathilde
LS
when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss

they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on

they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful

people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time

if you fall in love with a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity
 May 2018 Mathilde
Natasha
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.
 May 2018 Mathilde
Colm
The universe puts her headphones on
And plays her favorite track
The raindrops in the meadow burst
And soak the earth
And with her feet up on the world
She smiles from ear to ear
And plays it back
What songs does the universe listen to? Is there a more beautiful sound than the rain falling in the secluded meadow. Truthfully, I don't know. But I do love the sound of these words as they roll off the tongue. YUPP!

BIG THANKS to everyone who liked, commented, and helped make this verse the Poem of the day (on 05/18/18). I really appreciate it! You can listen to me read this poem live on SoundCloud. Just follow the link and have an awesome day!  

https://soundcloud.com/user-433755196/her-favorite-song-1
 May 2018 Mathilde
Morgan
eternity
 May 2018 Mathilde
Morgan
he interrupted me
in the middle of
an earth shatteringly
pointless story
to tell me i had
a cute laugh,
in a smoke-filled
garage infront of
all of our friends.
i said,
"alright dude
*******"


that night
i slept in the fetal
position with four blankets
and craved his skin so
bad i didn't even notice
that i bit my lip
until the pool of blood
collecting inside the deep ditch
of my gums, began to taste
of hot metal

today he texted me
while i was at work
and asked if he could
bring me a coffee
i looked at myself
in the bathroom mirror,
sighed and told him
we were busy
then i bought a
coffee for myself,
let the bitter sweet
warm liquid
linger on my tongue
and pretended
it was his lips

alone is a state of being
and i have never been alone,
lonely is a state of mind
and i have never been anything but
 May 2018 Mathilde
Mike Essig
First Evening (Première Soirée)**


Her clothes were almost off;
Outside, a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
To see what it could see.

Perched on my enormous easy chair,
Half ****, she clasped her hands.
Her feet trembled on the floor,
As soft as they could be.

I watched as a ray of pale light,
Trapped in the tree outside,
Danced from her mouth
To her breast, like a fly on a flower.

I kissed her delicate ankles.
She had a soft, brusque laugh
That broke into shining crystals -
A pretty little laugh.

Her feet ducked under her chemise;
"Will you please stop it!…"
But I laughed at her cries -
I knew she really liked it.

Her eye trembled beneath my lips;
They closed at my touch.
Her head went back; she cried:
"Oh, really! That's too much!

"My dear, I'm warning you…"
I stopped her protest with a kiss
And she laughed, low -
A laugh that wanted more than this…

Her clothes were almost off;
Outside, a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
To see what it could see.

— The End —