There are a small handful of decent poets on this site
And then there are the manipulators, the cliques, and the trolls
The manipulators will re-post their poems to the same collections over and over and over to get likes and attention
The cliques all re-post and like each other's work just because and they probably never even read a word, they just want the likes in return
And the trolls, well, we all know about them
But I'm extremely tired of this site's "best poetry". Most of it sounds like a five-year-old wrote it while they were drunk. A sentence is not a poem. I don't care what anyone says.
Poetry has no permanent definition. But I will accept a smear of boogers on a page as poetry before I consider one measly sentence an entire poem.
Did your brain get tired? That's all you could bother to write, today?
And it feels like we're all running out of original things to say.
I'm feeling rather cynical and "*******"ish right now.
It come to pass
That no one in Catholic church
Realizes it is traumatizing to a
To tell them they're
"The body of Christ"
at 4 in the
morning the sun
is never up
but i usually am
that are out of
even more about
things that are
get up early
when i work
when i don’t
the older i get the
more i learn
need to cry it out
into your pillow
need to cry
until the morning
sun falls across
the tears dried
under your lashes
and the lump
in your throat has
dissolved so you can
breathe with ease
you need to get up
let hot water
wash it away
let the steam rising
from your mug soften
any sorrow left around
your morning eyes
take a deep breath
don’t mention it
copyright 9/7/18 b. e. mccomb
She had galaxies
In her eyes
And her tears
Were falling stars.
© XPY 2018
I'm on the phone
No one's awake and I'm alone
The radio's on
Songs are played on lonely station
I'm in my bed
My eyes are open and sleep has fled
I'm on the balcony
The sky is dark and just quite scary
Some windows have lights
Could they also not sleep tonight
I'm still awake
When will life ever give me a break
Insomniac nights are the worst. And it's been going on like this for quite awhile.
She has no pride
No self love to begin with
How can you tell her she is self centered because she eats before the lunch breaks or how she makes tea for just herself and no one else
When she has no ego
She doesn't boast about victories or laugh at her own jokes
She doesn't tell everyone about her new hair cut or ask them to notice what's different today.
She does envy...
She hates that she couldn't get her grades above average or how she never had anything to be proud of.
She was jealous of the way her friends were content with life and happy when she would sit in her room and wonder why she cannot be them!
This is the girl you laugh at and the girl you underestimate just as much as she underestimates herself.
you still pick at the scabs the blade has made
pencil in your though on your face
i can still feel you underneath my skin
you're lost and scared to let me in
you've abandoned all your beliefs
the relief you felt when you go to sleep
within your mind you cannot find
the point of sanity has gone blind
and all the rest just lay in bed
when you leave this place these walls will rest
oh be grateful
your time is all but spent
At the laundry
And all im thinking about is laying up in my bed
With a good cup of coffee
In this drowny New York weather.
we rushed from the warm inside
to the cold outside
of a New York City night
Hailed a cab
then caught sight
of a lonely figure
slumped in the night
she’s in trouble
her soul is dead
and I thought
it is indeed
but what makes her different
from everyone else