Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 2172° 
Marc Morais
We built
a tower
with hands
that did not know
how to touch.

It rose,
stone by stone.
Each word was a brick.
Each silence,
the mortar.
Promises—
now vanished in the air.

We stood
at the bottom,
blaming the height
for our aches—
but the tower
was never
what broke us.
 735° 
onlylovepoetry
Synesthesia is a neurological condition in which stimulation of one sense involuntarily triggers experiences in another sense. This means that people with synesthesia may see colors when they hear music, taste shapes when they read words, or feel textures when they smell certain scents. It is a rare and unique phenomenon that affects about 2-4% of the population. Synesthesia is not a disease or a mental disorder, and it does not interfere with daily life

would sell my soul
cheap very cheap
to have this kinetic
blessing

think of the life
of love’s illusions
you could sketch,
the intersection
of all the senses
in one glorious
syntax
speaking of the
synthesis
of perfection moments

to decorate ordinary existence
for others

to be a human filtering
kaleidoscope
this poet’s word~world enthralling,
mesmerizing

imagine a love poem
erupting,
the sound and the fury,
the volcanic coloring heat
upon your flushed cheeks,
the symphony of
tiny erupting pinpricks


when first you
kiss
the great love of
your life


For everyone to
understand,
persuasively share,
the exact ecstatic crystallization
of that single second as well as you…
2/23/25
 706° 
Nat Lipstadt
Dearest Patty m.,

we admire, admit to raw nailed jealousy
when we read the works superior
with the greatest worn scruffy complementary compliment
a poet
can give to
another scribe

How I wish I had written that,
those very words!


confessing before the world
with our own humility
at the daily dawning of
realization that
morning brings freshness and
insights needy for release and
aborning and the trace of humiliation
that we’ve all  ready
been breached bested
by others,
once again…

BUT
we do not bow!
no courtly arm sweeping,
back bent, at best
a nod of a head
then

privately
we gasp, rent our clothes,
throw the body flat to the floor,

observing seven days of mourning
reserved
for when we morning moan,
daylight groan and loan out our
croissant moon mooing cries to
bemused muses
in the clouds supervising,
as tears of, an admixture of,
an elixir of joy, compassion
and thus refreshed by someone’s
new infant’d christening
we *****. we resurrect, gamble,
throwing ourselves complete like dice,
in to a roll of
stunned stupor of high inspiration
and then make out best work
ever yet

but never do we bow, scrape,
bend the knee, maybe the head,
we mourn our lesser failings
and smile as we flash words
from our eyes,
stored in our mindsets,
our, my best, will
always be yielded up
next
——
addendum
———
seven years ago
in a separate guise,
he ssid it differently
maybe better?
:<•>

epilogue

read my face
incapable of,
deprivation
but how now silent
bow my head to Will
for teaching the way of words
traced upon
a fool or a king's tongue,
two too human,
so that poet may ken
his senses keener,
all for the better,
for the betterment of all
 557° 
Taylor
i think you deserve a soft epilogue,
my love.
you are a good person
and  you've suffered enough.
 542° 
Nat Lipstadt
~ for Rob Rutledge -
@ 6:15am
~~~~~
we all are living, reading and writing,
paycheck to paycheck
even if by happenstance, our bellies full,

for the white sheets we lay our words
down and upon, our supporters of
ids and egos of egg shell thin lifes
are the bare emptied shelves
of our unending, still ongoing
pandemic pandemonium,
razing times
of eroding joys

the sheets are blank, but our souls
wearied, helmed and whelmed
by the unending of the unexpected
that demands, orders and commands,
no matter what
pour it out blasting
unleashing the rage
compelled, compiled,
completely compulsing
we
selves ordered to compose

giving form and firmament
to our vaporous innards,
releasing new oxygen from
the tides inside and without,
clashing ideas, irregular notions
that demand we poets responsible
for reconciliation and auditing for
human truths

we awake barren but weighty,
the emotions are rustling in the
now daily, common,
mighty metors of gusts of higher winds,
spreading fire and measles to spite,
not despite
our fragile failings & flailings

oh goodness and grace,
let that be the colors of
our skin, our face,
essay on, sashay with a
swinging motion,
yes, rhyme and rhythm

and deliver us with words
so soft, they shatter the
gloomy desperation of
what confronts our entirety,
when the terrors of our
sleeping dreams cannot be
differentiated from the
sad eyed waking
ones

so write, and right,
these troubled times,
when trolls, dragons
and yet unnamed monsters
seek to take away our
tiny green planet, watered,
seeded and plentiful fruited
plains enough to satisfy us all

if we are so emboldened to choose
all of us over our lonely selfish selfs
6:15am
Tuesday
close by
the Ides of March
(1)some words recently received and rescreted
 524° 
kathleen
They say it’s all in your head,
They say you’re making it up,
They say nothing is actually wrong,
They say your life could be worse
They say you’ll grow out of it,
They say it’s just doctors trying to make money,
They say all it is is you’re sad.
They say it’s all in my head… maybe it is, maybe it was.
but now it’s slowly spilling out onto my wrists.

I don’t think it’s just in my head anymore.
 504° 
jim moore
You saw it coming,
you knew it
I had my chance,
I blew it
You held my hand
We walked to the edge

I couldn’t jump
A missed opportunity that I wish I had the chance to do over.
 457° 
Iska
Unrelatedly,
I’ve lost my appetite.
•not a cry for help. Just a thought that flit through my mind some months ago•
 355° 
Craig Strong
Dude, do you realize that you used the word dude
like three times in the same sentence, dude.

who does that?
 298° 
Imarie
No longer fooled by sweet disguise,
She shields her soul from judging eyes.
For trust, once given, now denied,
Leaves only emptiness inside.
 275° 
Clay Micallef
When a black sheet has been
thrown over the moon
and a million lazy stars
have fallen from view
I hear the wind has
grown tired of traveling
I hear the sound of mandolins
crying in the mountains
I hear the rattle of
gypsy wheels
I hear the heavy hearts
of horses upon the
restless roads of
broken poetry ...
Clay.M
 230° 
kohu
my blue veins pulse, life
throbbing, aching, red spilling
i crave, the cutting
a haiku
 222° 
Sunamin Tamang
She Said,
"I was his Strawberry Moon
Red & dim
Lambent with love.
But he never stepped into my light
Never felt my red beams.
And now…
Time is gone.
Time is gone."
~
& after all, what did he reply?
 218° 
Raven Star
I exist.

But i need to do things
I don't really like,
And i dream
Of a different life.

So, am i truly alive?
Meaning of life?
 207° 
Gary
Love ties bows
around garbage bins.

Turns losses into wins.

Brightens a sky,
shortens a queue.

Changes one into two.
 191° 
Lawrence Hall
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                               The Daily Mail’s New Profits Plan

Go away, Daily Mail.  Go away, Daily Mail.
I’m not going to spend any money on you
I know that your clips are sweet
But my money clip is mine to keep
And my credit limit insists that I must be true

When you're demanding like this
You’re really easy to resist
Go away, Daily Mail
I won’t pay, Daily Mail
You’re just a clickbait away, Daily Mail
App delete, Daily Mail
I will not beg you to stay


Legal stuff about “Go Away, Little Girl,” a sweet, charming song:
Written by: Gerry Goffin, Carole King
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
U. K. Daily Mail
 188° 
apricot
Please, get out of my head
Please I am begging you
Leave
I don't need you here
But I do
I want you
Just you.
But it's your fault
I can't shut up about you
Please, get out of my head
I don't want you anymore
You can't make up your mind
Because I can't
It seems
It's only filled with you
Like all others did,
I want you to leave
But, I'm stuck with you
And you're stuck with me
I want you
Just you
No one else invading my head
I've gone crazy
Because you aren't in my head
I'm in yours
I've gone crazy
Because you don't want me
The way
I want you.
This is literally what my live life is currently wth
 188° 
Persephone II
She cracked
Shattered that day
That day eons ago
Leaving a shadow
That grew roots
Roots that grew deep
Deeper
Within her blood
Blood and bones
Etching tattoos
and scars
That she did not
Did not know how to heal
 183° 
brooke
I only just realized
what joy can be—
It is a small thing,
I think,

In the back office
at the bank,
If you leave the chair canted
towards the south window,
the sun will warm the small
blue seat around 11:45

It has always been
such an inconsequential thing to me
always out of reach—

But it’s there,
A quarter before noon
every day.
 176° 
Nishan Niraula
Dancing in the attic,
I hide from the Passerby,
Confronting their eyes—
Traumatic.
Listen to the words I try to imply.

These beings mean no harm,
To me, they seem strange.
As they embezzle in my charm,
All I see them as, deranged.
This person sees people from above,
The attic is his habitat
 174° 
Maryann I
Soft are the sighs of the evening’s embrace,
laced in the hush of a silver-lit breeze.
Waltzing in whispers, the night leaves a trace,
brushing my cheek with a delicate tease.

Gossamer ribbons of moonlight descend,
trailing my footsteps in flickering white.
Coy is the dance as the fireflies blend,
spun in the glow of a star-lover’s light.

Fingers like lace trace the edge of a dream,
velveted laughter afloat on the air.
Oh, how the midnight was made to be seen—
darling and dainty, yet wickedly fair.

Tell me, sweet wanderer lost in my spell,
would you still chase me if I never fell?
 166° 
SøułSurvivør
::::
The chains
'round      my
ankles      are
sterling fine
the
very
   best      that  
I could
find
:::
The
chains   'round
your     neck
are purest
gold
and
the      lock
will      cost
your
very
SOUL


So­ulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
(C) September 17
2014
 163° 
Bree17
The warmth of summer's first kiss?
Bliss,

is the absence of winter’s cold fist.
Resist,

undermining your power,
flower.

Rejoice in spring's free breeze.
Freeze,

and enjoy this moment’s endeavor,
forever.
Echo Verse
 162° 
nivek
written within DNA
word songsters

born
created

gifted

set on a journey.
 159° 
Hlelolwenkosi
Him
In my world
Your absence is an offensive crime
As my heart is under arrest
And only your presence can bail me out
Just found out his absent at school
 156° 
Liana
Dear seven year old,
Yes, there is a monster
But it’s not under your bed

The monster is in your head
But maybe it’s not even a monster
Maybe it’s just buried pain
Because they told you not to cry

Dear seven year old,
Yes, you should keep crying
Otherwise the tears will build up and flood your insides

The tears do not care for being stuck
They need to be released
Into the stars

Dear seven year old,
Yes, your plea for better times are being heard by the stars
They always will
Keep wishing on them

Wish on 11:11 too
Because to wish is to know what you want
And knowing what you want
Telling it
Makes it so much more likely to happen

Dear seven year old,
Yes, you still feel like the kid sitting under the slide and just observing life
And you’ve come to appreciate it

Observing, looking, watching p
Make all the difference
Almost as much as writing

Dear seven year old,
Write.
 155° 
Mica Wood
One fifth of my day
was spent on precalculus.
I want to die now.
Time I cannot get back
 155° 
Carlo C Gomez
~
First God
Then Everest
To the ends of elation

Her eyes in sunflare
An imprint from her light
Heavy and pulling me
The ever after of the hereafter

In that moment I was hesitant

~
 154° 
dead poet
a slave to desires
masters manipulation;
ushers the dark age.
 153° 
Kashi
A reset to Mother Earth
Taking a little nap
From growing and growing
So much green
She donned the white
Willingly and joyfully
Why not me
As I recall the joyous
Rides down the hills
Most fun only
Winter can offer

I’m bidding farewell
To the reset
Respite
Offered
As I gently await
The awakening
With the end of one season comes another. Let's bring in spring as winter lays behind us.
 134° 
Thomas Castle
your vase is not too much for the teacup in their hand.
 133° 
Chris Topah
I close my eyes to take the sun away // blue moon
Bat an eye to all the things these days // so true
Little rover, gettin older
A circle is just, the circles a must

Ten high just never felt the same // I puke
I felt another giveaway // just shoot
Gearing english, sporting spin
A circle is just, the circles a must

Cut me slack, I took the hard way // it's fine
Make peace and let it melt away // rewind
From me, dear you
A circle is just, the circles a must

Toss a coin to another man // bless you
And in return ill take another chance // on you
Monkey see, monkey do
I guess my fortunes told me to bid you adieu

..

If all i need is just a better view
If I can then you can too
Believe in things for me and not for you
a case of the toucan blues
 120° 
jan oskar hansen
Peace in our time
What can we say our hope for peace in Ukraine was declared, we are no longer sure if this is possible, the right words were spoken until someone mentioned the value of rich soil that had costly minerals within, and the talk of suffering humanity talk a pause, greed had entered the frame
Sure, we need troops to guard our ill-gotten treasures, friendly troops do you mind if there is a thing like friendly weaponized troops guarding
Earth treasure
While our leaders try to change the narrative to
tell us it is not about right or wrong but it is about saving the world for our benefit
 115° 
Grey
The war between,her,me and she

Funny a tale I tell you

"Her" was me a minute ago

So malleable, gullible
Easy to stir

But "her" was happy
Holding unto a dark mural

"Me" is I now

Lessons from "her"shaped me

To let go of steam
From others action

That some ain't -
Worth fighting for

"She" is my future
The all control
I want to be

Some war ain't-
worth fighting for

I'm letting go of "her",
"Me" in progress
So that "she" can live
 111° 
aviisevil


For I want to be
kissed by the sun

not the candlelight

There isn’t room
at this table
for the both of us

I want to sleep
deep in the forest

close my eyes
and not be alone

A bed for two
only lasts the night

I want to take my heart
hold it in my arms

and not give it back
this time

To laugh and sing
and dance

to let them know
it’s just a silly little life

but it’s mine


 102° 
Immortality
Hidden garden,
owns its beauty,
flowers blossom,
our feelings intertwine.

Evening sun
kisses your glow,
deep eyes shine,
your soft smile flow.

Your hand in mine,
I wish forever.
sweet love note hidden in a garden....
 100° 
Seth H
The sun & the moon
greet each other now & then
The crows pick up dimes
on the prettiest days
oh,
what will you do,
when I look at you?
yes,
what will you think,
when I walk your way?

Will you love me
yes, will you love me
  like a flower on a grave?
Written a while back,
I have a number of these, so this is one of a series

Untitled, so the title is new
undated, so I don't remember the context
 100° 
souletry
And that's okay but,
i'll never admit this to you so I'll say it here,
where I know you won't see it.
I miss you.
Why do I deny myself the chance to go after
the love I deserve?
True religion
begins in the heart

The heart is the ruling power of manhood

You can enlighten the
understanding of man

But if his heart is wrong
the understanding only enables him to sin with a greater disregard for the responsibility resting upon him .
 85° 
lilpoiein
I was too independent and God broke me down, it was isolation and negativity. He can't work in self-reliance, because without him you can do absolutely nothing. God design us to co-depend on community and co- depend on Him. You can be secure and dependent on God. He never created us to walk alone.
 81° 
Ivan
could you please look in your purse?
you see, I gave you all my love
and left none for me

I'm sure I gave you plenty
and I so desperately need some now
please, could you return
a bit of that love I filled you with?

because I still have none for me
as you throw it all away to an abyss
could you please look in your purse?
I'm sure my love is spilling from it!
this was my first poem
 79° 
PuellaGratiae
When I was fourteen I found a dog.
Once, she brightened my day.
A long time ago she played at my feet,
But now she's gone away.
With her floppy ears and her fluffy tail
That would wag as she gave me a kiss,
With all of the love she gave freely to me,
She will be sorely missed.
Dedicated to my friend, and her dog, Millie.
Next page