Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Dec 2016
Mike Essig
on poetry*

A poem is only a mouthful of air
until it is read.
Imagine it. Craft it carefully
from your heart's flesh.
Seal it in a bottle
of clear, pure words.
Set it adrift on
the ocean of time,
life's restless surge,
until a few congruous spirits
pluck it from the sea-wrack
and recognize a message
that illuminates their souls.
Readers find writers;
never the opposite.
 Nov 2016
Julia Mae
do you wanna lose our heads tonight?
we can regret it in the morning
but that's the morning and this is right now
and it is dark and beautiful and you're smiling
and all i would rather do right now is put my hand on your knee and finish these drinks
yeah we can slip under the covers and be consumed by the warmth
and if it is okay can i hold your hand until the sun comes up?
can i brush up against your skin so mine isn't alone for once?
can i pretend for just tonight your body is mine and mine yours?
let's lose our heads tonight
you and i
 Oct 2016
Rapunzoll
my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.
© copyright

NOTE: i've noticed people sharing this to other sites without having spoken to me about it beforehand, I do not give permission for this and all poems are copyright, keep this in mind.

------------------------------------------------
my mother never actually said this to me, but i figure i'll probably end up saying it one day if i have children.

it's pessimistic yes, but i know there are exceptions. please don't take to heart. it's more a criticism of myself than all poets. :)
 Oct 2016
Nina Sherizze
At the other side of the cove I'm breathing
The same air that brushes your skin
Basking in
The same light that kisses your cheeks
Waiting
The same way I've waited for years
 Sep 2016
SøułSurvivør
~~<○>~~

shadows shed by moonlight
through the plants entwined
creating their own patterns
weaving their designs

blues and purples shimmering
the subtle shades of grey
the lovely dearth of color
unmatched by light of day!

they create a tapestry
of mystery on their looms
the woof and warp of dreamers

the shadows of the moon

~~<○>~~


SoulSurvivor
(C) 9/11/2016
I had a lovely time reading tonight. I wish I could read longer... My time is so limited and precious! I want to read you all! But it is almost midnight here, and I must be going to sleep soon.

HAVE A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT!
HAVE A BEAUTIFUL DAY!
Wherever you are in the world!

~~<○>~~
 Sep 2016
Polar
Child of mine please know

All things have a season

All things have a time

If stars can fall, then crash and burn

Humans fight and fail to learn

Then time has nought to teach

The blind will never learn to see

And the deaf will fail to hear

Even mighty rivers run dry

And seas can also die

Today

my heart stopped beating

But time has taught me this...

Love is where you find it

Follow joy wherever you can

Hope can spring eternal

Fellowship remains in man
 Aug 2016
zody rose wang
please tell the moon that i miss her soft shadows.
please tell her that i am dying to bathe in her subtle rays.
please tell her to continue her resting patience -
     that i would begin to admire her again,
     when i am better, stronger, filled with determination.
please do not disrupt her beauty.
please cherish her,
     for me.
 Aug 2016
Puspanjali Sahu
You and I,
who never believed
ghosts existed
neither angles
in our childhood  

You and I,
who never believed
a star will fall from the sky
on the other side of the horizon
and make our beautiful imaginations  
come true,
even in our dreams  

You and I,
who carries practicality
in our pockets and
categorized ourselves
according to weight of our wallets  

could never understand  

why a girl
at her 5, 25 or even at 70    
a girl
at her  highest level of maturity
search madly
in each corner of the city
for a particular coloured thread
from thousands and thousands    

and I hardly understand
how she decides
what will look best
on her brother's wrist  

The boy who is still struggling
to take care of his hairs or wardrobe
from where he gains
the courage
to say a girl
don’t worry
for anything
I am here
and wherever you need
I will be there    

You and I
could never understand
why a mature girl’s smile  
seems childish
and why a childish boy’s  smile
seems filled with responsibilities  

when she ties the coloured thread
on his wrist
Raksha bandhan is a ritual followed by Indians in which a sister ties a coloured thread, called raksha around her brother's wrist and brother promises to be with her when she needs. He promises to give her everything and protect her from every bad situations

Rituals in anywhere in the world are loaded with emotions but pressure of busy life forcing us to be emotionless (up to certain extent
Next page