Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2020
Sk Abdul Aziz
Our greatest adversaries...the ones we must fight most often is within ourselves.
 Oct 2020
Sk Abdul Aziz
Sometimes we spend so much time thinking about the past that we forget to live. Take lessons from the past but don't live in it.
 Oct 2020
Logan Robertson
My Sister, I Watched You Fall-2

My little nephew, I was sorry for your sorrows
When the whims of your mother stormed your tomorrows
You didn't know who your father was
Or why the branches of your tree sagged its paws

For you walked thru the halls of life mauled
By a lost paw that grabbed your mind and sadness walled
I could see it in your mind's eyes, the question marks
Of why other families have fathers at the parks

From the time you were a little child of two
You would love to go with uncle to the zoo
Then as the wheels in your mind started to click
Seeing other kids with fathers, it made you sick

You were young seedling lacking the nourishment
The parts of the puzzle missing fulfillment
But hear this, my little nephew, your uncle tried
And ... at the mercy of your mother's whims, I cried

We'd play the role of father and son
Fish a dream, toss the past, paint some fun
We'd **** weeds while wrestling through a reservoir of tears
Aborted in time, a lake, two swans and a duckling in good cheers

My nephew, I would take you around the world if I could
But hear this you were never, never driftwood
For I had spent as much time visiting you
In absence of a fathers touch, you never knew

I shed more tears today as I catch wind of your child
For its teeth bites and gust of whims, again, run wild
Do I offer congratulations knowing the lake is devoid
Of future swans and a duckling, walled in my mind's void

No. My nephew, I'm choked in tears that crawl
On the face of the earth, I sprawl
I thought you learned, child uncorked
On wings of albatross and not the stork

Logan Robertson

8/16/2018
Play on words-paws, mauled. At age two, he was a child prodigy
with an eidetic memory. He was a **** at math, count change impressively, knew the times' table, like how many donuts in five in a half dozen. We would study the map, he knew all the states and capitals. I was impressed watching him grow and blossom. Then one day at that young age he learned why other kids had fathers and he didn't. It hurt him badly. He recoiled. He rebelled. He purposely started to give wrong answers to my teaching, as he started to lose interest. And things waned after that understandingly so. But for a while there he was so bright. This is a sad page to turn.
Shadows are taller
run-ups are smaller
throws don't go any far

morale is lower
bat moves slower
no more can hit a sixer.

Muscles aren't sturdy
movement is tardy
lethargic feet hardly run

only lean patches
missed easy catches
nobody says well done.

Can't see it clear
from daze of fear
fumbles my unsteady bat

the opponents dance
they don't miss a chance
the field shouts how's that!

I have a feeling
this body ain't willing
to run on the green anymore

yet the ****** mind
still hopes to find
one last three figure score.
 Oct 2020
Cross Boundry
You owe me six years,
six years you took from me.

Six years I spent pining, loving,
pleading with the world to let you love me.

You owe me my ability,
my ability to love is scarred from your carelessness.

Six years you spent carving, stabbing,
killing my love that I continued to give.

You owe me, but I don't think I could bring myself to take it back.
 Oct 2020
Norman Crane
black lives matter so
black lies matter so
dive in deep waters to
die in deep waters to
be seven as the samurai
be seen as the samurai
your mind curved
your mind cured
starve and
stare and
carving your name in history make
caring your name in history make
the world: invert
the world: inert
an ideology to believe
an ideology to belie
The challenge here was to start with a line, then make the next line the same but for the subtraction of one letter (in this case, v) and follow the same pattern for the duration of the poem.
 Oct 2020
annh
Do not deny me,
The lines between us read;
A footnote of a smile

A miniature novella
Cradled in my palm;
Your hand held

Written in our familiar aspect
An epic journey of the soul;
A quiet collision
Of two still quieter gestures.

'There is more to hear in what is not said.'
- Rachelle Joyce
I have a quiet lake of answers
For your raging storm of questions.

I have a placid summer meadow
For your hectic pace of living.

I have a waterfall of caring
For the times you feel unloved.

I have a purple sunset
When your world is without beauty.

I am a fresh baked cookie
When your soul is starved for love.
                      ljm
I don't often get to write love notes.
 Oct 2020
Kasper
He waits in the night
Such a glorious sight
With fingers like claws
And a crow that caws

He waits in the day
So he'll be at bay
With hair like the void
That no one can avoid.

He waits in the moon
It'll be over soon
With eyes like coal
That will rot your soul

He waits in the sun
It's almost done
With wings like fire
That suits his attire

He waits in the night
Such a glorious sight
As he goes by
You all will die
 Oct 2020
Owen
Where ever life takes me.
Whatever we've done.
I will always wish you happiness,
health, joy, and love.

We both hurt each other
I hope we both heal.
I know that at one point
what we had was real.

Theres a place in my heart
that you'll never leave.
I'll always be here
if ever you need
a friend.
I know we can never be together again, but no matter how much i wish i hated you for this pain, I can't help but feel love for you.
 Oct 2020
Norman Crane
The sun set over the Hamptons that night,
A golden egg cracked into the ocean,
We napped on the beach. Goose bumps. Wrapped tight,
Warm blanket. Waves. Shared ear buds. She sang
solely for us sitting so comfortably
on the precipice of forty. If only
we had known this would be the best day,
we could have begged the dripping sun to stay
afloat but then we would have always known
the sun will never rise as high or shine
as brightly as it did. Each day a slow
erosion of the New York coastline,
degradation of the mind. Please remember—
even when I don't—our summer in September.
Next page