Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Apr 2023 Ave Maria
Nat Lipstadt
when does the poem end?


creation is never ending,
the earth is endlessly morphing

but you lean back and say
enough
not because the poem
is finished,
for it is never finished,
because an exhalation feels
satisfying, releasing

but the poem never ends,
nor does the need to

exhale

not with the final .


the next poem is

but a

continuation

of the previous poem;

a continuation

of you~poem,

inhaling

and

exhaling

& morphing.

Sat Jan 7
7:57am
Go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something. ~Kurt Vonnegut
She Comes.

By way of storm.

the waters winding
in a fury of death.

And She. is painting
the sky

Black.

For now.
You have been warned take heed everybody...reduce your carbon footprint as much as you can.
 Mar 2023 Ave Maria
Crow
Exhale
 Mar 2023 Ave Maria
Crow
I have no memory of breath
till we kissed
now each breath recalled
spoke of you

each moment infused
with airs of your inclination
your unfolding sigh
filled me

kiss me
once more

your lips on mine
breathe into me
my last breath
must be yours

till I return it
Evening sky reflects truth
The glass surface of blank faces
Soldiers marching this war called life
Shame carried to fill the empty spaces
Through lonesome days we wander
Night dark enough to render sight blind
If we let light in we would find rest
The dreams freed of fear plaguing unconscious mind
Undefined weaknesses steadily simmer
Close in proximity to my soul
Gravity of all the success I'm failing to achieve
Larger than that of a massive black hole
Every time I attempt to win I lose
Born with poor coordination and aim
I decided I won't bother embarrassing myself
It is easier not even playing the game
I see myself through silent eyes
As I use my pen to stifle tears
Forever smiling through the sorrow
My sadness worse than it appears
Pieces of me splintering slow
Dreams wilting like autumn leaves
Falling headfirst
Tumbling down
Unable to find a decent reprieve
Beneath the shadows cloaking my mind
Where words collide like crashing rain
Hope begins flowing like a small stream of water
And for a moment I think
"Someday I will conquer this pain"
Inhale. Exhale
Taste the blue
And wrap yourself
In the possibility
Of gold
Next page