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 Dec 2014
berry
i wonder if the doors in the house you grew up in
started slamming themselves to save your father the trouble.
i wonder if you can remember the last time you prayed,
and if you had trouble unfolding your hands.
i wonder if your mother knows
about the collection of hearts you hide in your closet,
i wonder if she could tell mine apart from the rest.
i wonder if your shoes know the reason why
you keep them by the back door and not your bedside.
and sometimes, i wonder
if you ever think about that night when i told you,
you wouldn't need to drink so much if you had me.
but it seems like we only speak when you've got body on your brain,
whiskey in your glass,
your judgement is overcast,
and you know i'm too weak to ignore you.
i learned how to translate your texts
from drunken mess back into english.
i am fluent in apology, but i don't ask you for them anymore.
this is just how it is.
it's not enough for either of us
but ******* it we are not above settling.
so i will ignore her name on your breath,
and you will ignore the fact that this means something to me.
i always thought the first time i kissed you,
it would be on your mouth.
i just wanted to be something warm for you to sink into,
something that could convince you to stay a second night.
but i sneak you out in the early morning,
and you take a piece of my pride with you when you go.
i am left to nurse the hangover from a wine i've never tasted,
wondering how this is possible.
waiting for the next drunk call,
for the next time i get to pretend we are lovers,
the next time i get to live out the fantasy i am most ashamed of.
it is the one in my head where you want me when you're sober too.

- m.f.
 Dec 2014
bambi
For centuries
my weary soul's
been swallowin' grey-faced spirits whole.

But the porcelain broke
between the lips
I feel dusky fingertips.

I have short moments,
one brief farewell
before I place my sins in hell.

Stranger please--
lend me your ear,
I've become what I most fear.

I know there's no
such thing as ghosts
but I have seen the demon host.
 Dec 2014
Devon Webb
We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.
It's worth it though.
She quenches her thirst with
The tears of the inhabitants
Of sinkholes, claims them,
And gives birth to them anew.
Exhaling the winter wind, the
Scalding embers of December.

No one knows her name,
But you can confide in her.
Share your disarray, she will
Rectify you with her rhetoric.


She's seductive like suicide,
While I am as hung as a noose.
An irresistible demon, a potter
Shaping your every desire, a puppeteer
Manipulating the strings attached to your limbs.
Hailing from the same realm as Shang
Tsung, mortal anguish empowers her.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
An "answering back" poem based on Winter by Sia Janes. http://hellopoetry.com/poem/960549/eternal-voices/
 Dec 2014
Sean Critchfield
Breathe.

Settle yourself.

Try to understand.

We were meant to love.

And if we can not love, then we were meant to try to love.

And failing that we were made to breathe.

And try again.



-Sean Critchfield
This is the product of an exercise. I was instructed to grab the 7th book on my shelf, turn to page 7, and use the 7th line as my first line. The poem was restricted to seven lines.
 Dec 2014
curlygirl
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
 Dec 2014
K Balachandran
Before my eyes is the war dance, the armies of light enact,
is this, one inane madness or pursuance of a vision divine?
what makes me lose my heart, to you for all the time?
White lotus of my thoughts, the blooming my every cell echoes,
we are no different, I am reminded, our union is beyond time.

Through this limitless moor, tireless miles,alone I walk,
feel your presence everywhere when the wind booms
the blazing desert sun is unforgiving, it implied this:
"I'll make him regret for his insane love, the intrepid adventurer"
even if he scorches me to death, would I ever let go of my love?"

Rain lashed, strong guests of gale pelted hailstones,
uprooted trees asked me to stop,paths became waterways,
nothing, except your face, entrenched deep in my consciousness,
was in my recall; our love,I resolved, wouldn't die, even if I fall.

White lotus of legends, in you  enshrined, is my essence,
don't pretend, you are unkind and  I am not in your eye shot,
for you the rules of love I'll throw to the winds, cross the river of fire,
pull out all the stops to reach you, may it be in this life or in any other .
 Dec 2014
Kelly Rose
Strange and twisted
are her dreams-
She knows
her thoughts
are often
esoteric
Though she craves
lucidity
It seems
beyond her reach
It is hard
sometimes
to accept
Her dreams
her thoughts
are often
strange and twisted
Hidden
clearly lacking clarity.
12/1/2014
 Nov 2014
Elise
Thread wound from petals of black tulips line her soul
As she dances in the moonlight her silver lining starts to glow.
Her pale, glistening skin making love to the night
My mind escapes reality as my eyes regain their sight.

No matter how much she tears me down
She hit me like magic
I'm under her spell.
She'll leave me every time but i'll keep coming back
Enchanted by her madness i'm imprisoned by her grip
And i'm ******* black magic.

It's all of her imperfections that hide in her mind
As she creeps in the shadows her hearts beating black and she's swallowed by her pride
But my thoughts still surround her and she laughs as I cry.

One day my eyes'll roll back in my head and my heart will sink in her poison and i'll drown in India ink as she pokes her lies into my skin tattooing my soul with her malicious grin and i'll still be ******* black magic.

No matter how much she tears me down
She hit me like magic
I'm under her spell.
She'll leave me every time but i'll keep coming back
Enchanted by her madness i'm imprisoned by her grip
And i'm ******* black magic.
Wrote a song?
 Nov 2014
Liam
stellar direction in undulating terrain
punctuated by meteoric columns of infinite light
imparting a clutching embrace to the face of now

lunar reflections form a fluid nocturnal path
to an osculated gateway of fertile encompassment
culminating in breathless pillows of untabled silence

stars without fault grace the expressive heavens
while muted words gaze out through rooftop eyes
cascading over living stone in waterfalls of emotional geodes
 Nov 2014
Musfiq us shaleheen
..
~

hundreds of thousands of words,
we told through our whole life

tens of thousands of sentences,
you wrote in your novel

thousands of dreams,
we dreamed through our passing dark nights

millions of images,
we left in our moving past times

but my friend
at the end,
I carry

only a few images of withered petals
except all those nightmares
yet I can feel a few dreams of yours, repeatedly

even I can recall a few words of yours
that grew the motion of life
maybe you can feel a few words of mine

As  the words that can make a wonderful  lyric
"I love you, that holds an eternal truth"
yet that shining as a crystal of diamond
..
~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
words those make a lyric of love
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