Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Aug 2012
Ajay
Admiring our existence
in the past,
and remembering
every minuscule detail
of that day,
brings me
a euphoria stronger
than the euphoria
brought upon
from the strongest
of drugs.
 Aug 2012
Ajay
Occasionally
I place my hands over fire
to see if they burn.
 Aug 2012
Muggle Ginger
These past two days have come and gone,
I sat on my bed from dusk till dawn,
I couldn't stop thinking of you for a single minute,
People told me to do something... but I didn't,

I refused to listen,
I refused to hear,
All I cared about,
Was my sweet dear,

I closed my eyes and imagined your face,
We raced off together to a beautiful place,

We huggled,
We snuggled,
We laughed and we cried,
I wiped the teardrops away from your eye,

Don't worry my dear,
Everything will be all right,
When you lie down for bed,
Think of me saying, "Goodnight."
Special thanks to S. Ryan Berckmoes
 Aug 2012
Alicia D Clarke
I was your curtain
High on a rod you hung me
Protector of your inner most secrets
A barrier between you and the outside world
Shielding you from unwanted light and judgments cast your way
Hiding the storm that lay outside your window
I was your curtain
Sheltering you from reality that you might look outside
Hiding you from all things a coat of armor
I was your curtain
 Jul 2012
Loewen S Graves
finally, something
has gotten through.

I'm craving fields
and painted skies,
I want to choke on
the poems that burst
through my throat,
I want them to sing
the way your eyes do

finally, I want
to do everything I can.

I want to throw open
the doors, draw
on the walls,
swallow my clutter
and exhale my own kind
of laughter -- I'll submerge
anything I don't want to feel
beneath the waves

finally, I can smile
the way you do.

my spine has grown
softer, there is a magic
in my fingers and I'm learning
how to release it, it's coming
straight from the peace
I'm finding inside my chest,
somehow there is no longer a war there

finally, the reeds
are untangling themselves.

my gift is to hold, to
cradle, because i know
that whatever i am holding
must be deserving of my love.
maybe someday soon,
i'll realize that i can hold
myself, just as well as you can.

finally, i feel
like dancing.
just like them old stars
i see that you've come so far
to be right where you are
how old is your soul? --

(jason mraz)
 Jul 2012
Kingafroninjaa
I never felt like I belong here.
No matter how hard I tried, I never belonged.
Could it be I'm destined for something greater than life on this planet
Or am I doomed to spend eternity with the latter?
I wander across this land in search of who I am but it seems there is no answer no where in sight.
Am I suppose to quit this journey or continue to walk in denial?
How long must I endure this nightmare til I finally wake up and face "reality"?
At the night's commencement, memory of this life drifts away into the forgotten stream.
I can taste the answers but the moment I begin to relish in its delicacy, it fades from my grasp.
What is left for a king whose kingdom has fallen?
I went on a trip with a white girl & I never quite came back
 Jul 2012
Emelia Ruth
I sit on my back porch.
With the fire pit roasting at my feet,
keeping me warm and comfortable
as the rain washes away my worries.

The white wicker chair
old, but strong
cradles me into a cocoon
as my blanket hugs me.

The fire twinkling in the dark of the evening,
pruning my feet like the sun does to raisins.
Its flickers and waves amuse my eyes
as I feel its flames tell me a story.

The moon and stars,
as old as they are, still shining bright.
My friends that I look up to from time to time.
for clarity and wisdom, and are not thanked enough.

I listen closely to the rain’s rhythm on the tin roof
as it sloshes its way through the clogged gutters,
to the sound it makes when it hits the concrete ground.
The sound lures me into a new… better world.

Here,
in this place of love, ease, understanding, welcomes, and real friends
there is no worry, no stress, no judgment, no guilt or pressure,
just the perfect place to be when the real world isn’t perfect
… Although eventually, you will have to return.

But for now
I feel the playful gestures of the flame’s warmth, wisp along my feet.
I listen to the soothing harmonies and captivating rhythms of the rain.
I watch the sun turn into a bright full moon and the clouds turn into sparkling dancing stars.

This is where
I want to be.
I dream to be.
I live to be.
 Jul 2012
SRM
it hit me sometime later that graduation is life's greatest metaphor.

you show up early confused about where to go
you stand in a line that you're not sure you belong in
you march, following your peers, hoping you're going the right way
you fill out a form so someone older than you can correctly pronounce your name
you sit around and listen to adults talk, but you don't really pay too much attention
your name is called, a few people clap
then it's over.  

and you stand outside and ask:

"what now?"
 Jun 2012
Glenn Sentes
You hedonise yet killed your gamble
Coveting, lusting, groping for words.
You penetrate her deepest thoughts
Imprison her, criminal humanoid.

You steal her breath in the strokes of your pen
Your delirious limerick strangling her.
But your words in aching beauty
Gratify the body of your poetry.

Now you reached the ****** in your robust stanza
The provocative lines steaming desire.
You hit upon another magnum opus
A mortal sin told in the poem of Oedipus.
 Jun 2012
Juliana
A chain of beautiful accidents
light up like strings of Chinese firecrackers.

I follow trails that may or may not be blue.
They tip toe to the coast and snake around wild peacocks.

Funny things happen when you close your eyes,
lines from A to B are never completely straight.

I come for the sun and stay for the drinks.
Sometimes my thoughts make spider webs in my eyes.

Twelve doves like fingers walk in and out.
Off centre circles revolve around shapes caught in my throat.

For the long nights I played movies
that I wanted and hated as much as cinnamon jelly beans.

I don’t really know what brought me here.
Perhaps I’ve fallen through the rabbit hole, but

Maybe it was only a chain of beautiful accidents.
http://poemsaboutpoetry.blogspot.ca/
 Jun 2012
Juliana
Aluminum tigers prowl on power line borders
Freudian slips melt,
eating at handholds
Borrowed garbage is sun washed to the shell.
These pretty monsters make their way across the city,
weaving through wet newspapers from last Sunday,
rolling over the urban flowers with seconds to spare.
They are confined to streetlights by night,
trapped with us during the day.
When it rains, water drips inside and out
the windows fog,
an attempt to keep the rain out.
They pass with a mechanical melody,
the sigh of the sun on their backs.
They are the eyes and the ears of the city,
echoes of rumors.
Everything is carefully worked out,
like a poorly played game of Tetris.
They are the lines that connect me to you.
 Jun 2012
Ruby Flynn
we stood with our faces inches from
the el screaming past.
lights from the tracks were flashing
and we held fast,
in this moment we realized that
the eyes of every person we'd
ever seen
meant something.
maybe not to us,
but to someone.
and that,
that is a powerful thing.
Next page