Soloy: Favorites

Jun 2020 Soloy

n i c k t h e g o b l i n

You can always tell a self destructive writer
By their poetry

Because sometimes they are redundant
And other times they are expressing pain

But they always tell a story of being hurt
And locked into their own head

But this my dear, is why they write
Because the person in their head is trying to get out

Self destructive writers
Are usually dark

But when they are light
They tell you how perfect you are

So that you don't do the same thing
That they did to themselves

Self destructive writers
Don't want you to make their scars
On your arms

To all those out there who are this way, trust in your loved ones, you will get out of this. Thank you for encouraging other people to be who they are.

Jun 2020 Soloy

V.

Jun 2020 Soloy

georgia h

V.

I have been practicing form
with many curls of graphite on paper
between soft blue and white lines
scratching hollow hearts in repetition
until they bend into V’s:
that very shape children turn birds into.

Careful and careless with my heart
as I am with the storm cloud of little ones
on my pages
flurried into place by my absent mind
I am absent
I am filled to my throat with smoke,
the desire to take flight,
absent in thoughts of you.

The shape of an arrowhead,
Eros’ penetrating tip.
The angle of a woman’s *******.
The bend of a wishbone ready to snap.
These could all be called
the shape of love

but my love will always be a bird too high, a V windbound,
that I will pin to my fridge with a magnet
and look at every other Sunday
when I remember it.

#romance #yearning

Jun 2020 Soloy

Astromantic

Jun 2020 Soloy

misha

Astromantic

Sweet fae doll,
dressed up in all soft perfume and glitter
to make you look alive.
Like a dragonfly on a downwards spiral,
or a sheen of blood on a white marble floor,
the glitter in the corners of your eyes shines.

I wear sweet absinthe on my lips
and dark rings under my eyes
and I wonder- do you ever look like me too?
Do you ever cry at night?
Is your radiance merely an illusion
to be robbed by the moon?

Do you not exist until someone sees you,
little quantum illusion?
I wish, I wish, I wish
my face would crystallize and shine
and the resonance deep within
would be forgotten under shadows.

I've been having so much writer's block lately,,, sigh

Jun 2020 Soloy

Untitled

Jun 2020 Soloy

David Lessard

Untitled

Jun 2020 Soloy

Death

Jun 2020 Soloy

Eleanor Sinclair

Death

I met a friend today
His name was Death
He smiled big with pure white teeth
And minty fresh breath
I asked him what he did for a living
Staring blankly at me, batting his eyelashes
He did the opposite of giving
What did that mean?
But the closer I got to Death
The better I understood his scheme
In his sharp black suit he won me over
I felt an irresistible draw
Like to a diamond in the rough, or a four leaf clover
He convinced me of the beauty in the night
That when the moon was hidden from view
There was nothing better than the lack of light
He led me from my lust for life
Sang to me in my sleep
Whispered sweet nothings and handed me the knife
I tried to pull away from my newly found friend
But his choke hold was so tight
On him I started to depend
The world could see me deteriorate into nothing
He held me harder and closer
With shortness of breath I stood huffing and puffing
Enclosed in the lackluster of our friendship I became numb
The emotions drifted with my vitality
I tried to retrieve them but could only attain 1/5th of my former sum
The more time you spend with a person
The more you become like them
I suppose I couldn't see the situation worsen
Collar around my neck he leashed me like a dog
I cared so deeply for him
My haze filled mind ignored the dense fog
I came to terms with my life long trap
Death circled like a satellite around my position
No matter where I went he found my place on the map
Eventually I succame to this fate
Despite his control
Death, I could not hate
I loved him too dearly to notice the signs
I couldn't think clearly
His presence was odious and it wasn't benign

#death

Jun 2020 Soloy

When the heart of a poet gets broken

Jun 2020 Soloy

Meera

When the heart of a poet gets broken

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come

That's how true poetry comes into existence

#love #heartbreak #poet #poetry #pain