Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Aug 2017
Jellyfish
I love reading your books
but cannot anymore.
I burst into tears
each time I open that door,
the one that leads into
the library of your heart.
 Aug 2017
Ally
I’ll always love those eyes.
Like the night sky we always watch,
It catches everyone’s heart including mine.
But I love it more when those eyes can’t lie.
It shines as she talks about her favorites,
But looks so heavy when she’s suffering.
I’ll always love those eyes,
But times had changed,
They will never meet mine again.
-him

I’ll always love that smile,
Like the scenery he always love to photograph,
It captures everyone’s heart including mine.
But I love it more when it obliterates all the chaos.
When I talk about my favorites, he smiles.
When I’m suffering, his smile heals all the wounds.
I’ll always love that smile,
But times had passed,
I’ll never be the reason again behind it.
*-her
8/27/17 3:42 PM
 Aug 2017
L B
Never sure who's boss between us
He comes when called
several minutes later...

Blinking sweetly
smiling as only cats can
Golden, half-moons of sunlit bliss
watch fat yellow-jacket
marginally motivated

The hunt cannot compare
to the soft grass with its tender clover
a  full belly
and the meeter-of-all-needs nearby

But the quick jitter-dance
of an easy moth
sends the tiger
to the jungle of forsythia
Gleaming, stalking stripes
Alternating white of paws in precise approach
The prey?  Too quick
The predator?  Too old and lazy
prefers attention
Lumbers slowly back
lolling against coffee cup
Enough....

On needles of white pine
a secret lion has lain down

waiting only for the lamb
This was written for my, 16 year-old cat, Joseph. who's been gone a while now.  I thought of the poem as I said good-bye to my latest pet, Bailey,  whom I buried this week.  
I do believe I'll see them again in the resurrection, when He will restore all  things in peace-- granting life again to all in which was the breath of life.
 Aug 2017
Jellyfish
I tell myself I don't care
but underneath,
I feel scarce.
sometimes I feel afraid to breathe, the world keeps turning and in the end, i am unacknowledgeable.
 Aug 2017
MeghanKylie
i'm afraid. . .
. . . but i shouldn't be.
i linger on
. . . hesitations.
italktoquicklysometiemsspeedingupandforcingmyselfto
s
l
   o
     w
d
o
w
n
and when i'm slow again,
when i'm clear again,
when I

.....
pause.
i seek comfort in the strength of words, of music...
something
that i can't
lose
again.
something i can TOUCH.
something i can FEEL.

only to find it, and
lose it once more.
 Aug 2017
Jellyfish
My mind can change from a beautiful sea,
into a place full of monsters just between hours.
 Aug 2017
Hanna Mae Mata
Unwittingly,
we all just wanted to be loved.
From our births
to the moment we become one of the antiques,
one thing will remain amidst our constantly changing nature- and that is our want to love and to be loved in return.
It may have been the fault of the romantics for engraving the idea of love into the air,
or it maybe an inherent bone of our very nature, or perhaps an idea bestowed from the womb of our mothers.
Some have forgotten, or at least claim to have forgotten, love.
Little do they know that it exists right at the core of our reason and sometimes it thrives within our passions and dreams.
Some have the ability to see it with their naked eyes.
Some claim it lives through the warmth of another person.
Some believe it sits on the grave of another. Some use it as their shadow and yes, recognize it as demons too.
It’s everywhere, for sure.
But most, if not all, still crave for it.
Most claimed to have been failed by it.
There seem to be an overwhelming absence of love in the very universe that made it.

Why is that so?
 Aug 2017
Hanna Mae Mata
Seldom will you ever find a friend who will sit with you in your silence, one who may or may not understand but still- he or she, will sit with you in your silence.

As if the world has sum itself up into a second of a minute where all being has forgotten what it means to speak; as if all that every one knows is to listen

To the silence.

As if words have set themselves free of all of us human beings; that we have become strangers to them- words.

Silence.

Seldom will you ever find silence as you sit with a friend. Seldom may a friend understand.

But too often, silence who is a stranger to the words, listens. And my God, how it understands.
 Aug 2017
Nishu Mathur
I welcome the sun with open arms
Touched by its warmth and soothing light
Disarmed by it's limpid molten charm
After a gusty and stormy night.
A breeze still blows but the gales have eased
And blue is the sky over sun washed fields
Clouds that gently drift with joy
Float like angels of love and peace.
And though the world darkens at times
Shadowed seem joy and bliss
May the heart never forget
The beauty that was and the beauty that is.
 Aug 2017
DaSH the Hopeful
In a thousand years,* will anyone remember you?

       Will people read about you on their brain implant computers and bring you up in casual conversation over whatever coffee flavor is popular a millenia from now?

      It seems like a stretch. Us humans operate on such a small scale, but we love to dress everything we do up with purpose and grandeur. These days its easier to sink to the bottomside of insignificance and pretend you run the show as you drown than to swim towards relevancy.

      
There's always time to do it later, right? We can wait... right?

          Just... not now.

      So many dreams and aspirations have broken open against the constant battering of those reschedulings and put-offs.  
                 *
Keep your dreams alive. Don't fall under the curse of the Not-now.
Next page