Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Nov 2017
Seema
In the midst of day
The strong winds blow
You not ready to say
Now the motion is slow
This is not your first
To say goodbye
May be its my test
****! Why am I so shy?
It's the love that clicks
For you know that
You ignore my flicks
But you ready to bet
Who would call first?
It's not me,....No!
I will take my rest
Door is open, you may go...

©sim
 Nov 2017
G Rog Rogers
If and when
you do begin again
Give it all you've got

Tomorrow is just
a day away
And soon today
will be long gone

It takes a plan of action
Setting goals you
can attain

Follow through
with all you've got
See it happen
Then do it again

An ounce of misery
is preferred to
pounds of pain

And mistakes are
the hardest of teachers

Risk analysis
before every move
Know what you get
for what you might lose

Risk and reward
determine the odds

Take decisive action
knowing and counting
each and even
the intangible costs

Keep your score
and know you've
won far more than
you ever have lost

Seek joyful happiness
Knowing sorrow
is never far

Embrace yourself within
the good and the best
To become truly
who you are

If and when
you do begin again
Give it all you've got

Tomorrow is just
a day away
and today is
almost long gone.

-R.

(11.17)
-LA
©ASGP
 Nov 2017
Kaye I
she's a song
you'll never hear
because you never listened.
poems are not all
sunshine and
rainbows

sometimes,
just sometimes
we have to ****
in the bathroom
sink of beauty
to find out how
repulsive it can be
underneath

I find the soap ****
of the shower drain
to be more enriched
with adorning features
than the palm trees
of florida

art
and all forms of it
are inexhaustible,
you could never
take that away,
including this
ugly
ugly
ugly
poem
Art needs its balance
 Nov 2017
Pepper Dove
I have lost myself. At some point I’ve forgotten who I was becoming, letting my Self slip through my finger tips where my essence once did reside. My childlike curiosity seems to have faded away with the castle-like clouds… it has changed its shape, again and again. Morphing from one creature to another, unconsciously, without my permission. This has been me for some time - a chameleon; changing with the backdrops strolling across this stage we call life. Folding my slices of thoughts into clichés of paper mache … fly away little crane, fly away… I have been the bystander of myself. All along, standing beside my Self. I am there though, just blind.. maybe even deaf and mute sometimes, but I am there.. I am here.. I simply just am. Though, as complex as I may make it, it is simple: to just be. This is what I have forgotten. This is what most of us have forgotten. I am realizing this more, as more Suns rise and more Moons fall, that nothing else really matters. These shadows casted upon us all, they do not exist. They cannot exist. Dark cannot exist when there is light.. and light is what we are. Unless there is a brick wall blocking our light, forcing its shadowing umbrella onto our hopes and dreams. But light is what I am, and dim I will no longer be. So today I start by opening a window for my shine, so tomorrow I can open the door, letting more of my light to leak. So soon I can walk through that doorway, one step at a time, further and further away from this dark shadowy wall until it disappears behind the horizon forever. Until finally, I am my true Self shinning vibrantly as the Sun does, becoming who we’re all meant to be - found and free.
A little journaling from my innards haha.. really just writing honestly and vulnerably without looking back.
 Nov 2017
Laurel Leaves
There's this wire I keep tripping on
the string that lays parallel to current divisions of reality
a plane of moments
strategizing time fragments that correlate with the general population
but keeps me cloaked behind a veil of
they call it
dissociated
the illusion that I cannot fully connect
my atoms don't seem to just align properly with the whirling visions around me
and I slip into the seconds of grandiose prophecies
consumed with the mentality that I will never be enough
that my moments will never really
quite line up.
 Nov 2017
Irene Poole
I was trying to start
 a conversation, an education:
a way to reach the dark-hearted ignorance
 and nurse it back to health in knowledge
but
my consequential words
slammed against your brick-walled brain
the china shop to your bull-
****.
Wasn't sure if I was going to post this, due to the political nature, but here it is. Sometimes all the work you put in to a well-crafted argument seems futile when pitted against an uneducated and close-minded opponent, but it is still important to try and have conversations with people who have opposing views from you. I felt like this feeling was better expressed in a poem than in an angry Facebook rant, thus this poem.
 Oct 2017
SG Holter
There's room for your every
Blade between my ribs.
I have a thousand other
Cheeks to turn when

You need to fling
Frustration from the channels
Of your heart's palms.
I can take all your punches.

I am a statue to your weathers.
I am the sound of handfulls of
Dirt and pebbles against an empty
Casket. I can take out my every

Nerve, my heart, my pain centre
And place it in a pocket; take it
All back out when you need to
Dillute your tears with mine

Over some matter that weighs
Heavy on the hearts of little
Girls playing with big boys; falling
From swings designed for

Denser bones and hands rough
From climbing. I am the teddy
Bear missing an eye and a limb,
Exposing stuffing through seams

Torn from being dragged over
Stairs and through sandboxes,
Always a thump behind little legs
That carry love for it, unequal to

Any.
 Oct 2017
Echo Floating
Peeling the wallpaper
From the walls
Glimpses of layers underneath
Some vibrant and bright
Others sombre and dark
Measurements of growth
And the passing of time
A history revealed
With patience and care
Papered-over cracks
Stripped and laid bare
Each one a story
A voiced over documentary
Narrating the life of a room.
 Oct 2017
Melissa S
When the last person living
Takes their last breath
Stares down the darkness
and meets their hour of death
Birds will not cease singing
The trees will still grow
The tide will still pull
and the wind will still blow
The sun will still come out
As will the moon
The leaves will still sprout
and the flowers still bloom
It is only our arrogance
Which makes us think we
are at the axis of all
That we touch and see
Life will go on without us
Year after year
We will just become the people
That once lived here
Next page