Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jan 2017 B
Mysidian Bard
It started as a puncture,
but the seam slowly ripped;
a thimble can't protect
from a poison needle tip.

She tried to mend it
by making more holes;
the tear only grew
and grew out of control.

At the spinning wheel
her life would quickly dwindle;
frantic attempts to hem
were depleting the spindle.

What started as a puncture
of seductive sedation
fueled the abuse
of machined perforation.

"Don't mourn a living corpse"
were the last words she said
as she drew the needle
that held the last thread.
 Jan 2017 B
Mysidian Bard
What price do we place on freedom
in a world of consumer slaves?
Do we measure it in the lives
of soldiers sent to their graves?

Do we measure it in the families
who lost dads, husbands, sons;
and trust the politicians
whose solution is always guns?

Do we measure it in the comfort
of never knowing first hand
the way that a child feels
growing up in a war-torn land?

What is the cost? What will it take
for us to wake and see:
if this were the path to freedom
wouldn't everyone be free?

If hate will only breed more hate
and if war only breeds more war,
it ultimately begs the question:
is "peace" worth fighting for?
 Jul 2016 B
anika
Before you, I did not notice much. They say that when you fall in love, nothing and no one else matters. but that’s not true. When you fall in love, everything matters just a little more. Songs now make sense, all of the sudden you yearn for a dozen roses and another coat of mascara now makes a difference. When I fell in love with you, I realized that sidewalks are made for two, that two chair tables outside small coffee shops are meant for dates, and that ice cream tastes better when its shared. The sun, the stars, winter, trees, coffee, Chinese takeout, beer, long car rides, pools, walking, TV shows, funny movies, perfect fitting jeans, new makeup, curled hair, new outfits, and everything in-between, mattered so much more when I fell in love with you. Suddenly, home was no longer my mother’s house Sunday mornings with the smell of pancakes, home was anywhere and everywhere as long as I was with you. What I am trying to say here is that now you’re gone and I’m homesick and I don’t know where home is anymore.
 Jul 2016 B
Rhys Jones
If the stars did die
I wouldn't mind
If my eyes went blind
I couldn't find

Strolling the darkness
With souls like yours
Hearing the whisper
That binds us further

But
If the stars are bright
I'm grateful
If I can see light
I'm aware
If I can hear voice
I'm at ease
Next page