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 Jul 2017
Melissa S
Some days I want to be a wild horse
or a gypsy wild and free
Don't put any fence around me
Who would want to tame this
Heart of wild
I just want to be somewhere
Anywhere just not confined

Other days I want to build a house
Build me a home
Build my life around my kids and spouse
Sometimes I can follow the direction of the reins
Even if they do feel like chains
I want to give my all
I am just so scared to answer the call

It seems I want to have my cake
and to eat it too
Its like I have double lives  ~ What am I to do
I want my freedom and I want his time
Cannot divulge all the darkness in my mind
There is beauty in imperfection
and order in the unruliness
I am a walking contradiction
Yes I'm somewhat of a mess
Words rhythm and movement are what I live for
and I can sometimes give up the control
I do what feels right to me
Cause there's a gypsy living in my soul
 Jul 2017
Joel M Frye
Traveling back to humanity
from a place where there is hopelessness
beyond hopeless,
where one believes in God
and will not trust God.
Lost in a spiritual wilderness
for twenty-one days,
by grace alone not forty.
There is no fear quite like
the fear that your fervent prayers
are being ignored,
or put on celestial Hold:
"...your call will be answered
by the next available Higher Power;
estimated wait time is
approximately three lifetimes."
There are times
when I must founder,
battered, shattered
against the reef of my ego,
baptized by drowning in self-pity
before emerging, reborn
on a safe shore in sheltered harbor,
pulled in by willing friends
who miss me when I'm lost.
"We are punished by our sins, not for them." - Elbert Hubbard.
 Jul 2017
Pax
I can say the right things
yet in the wrong time,
while I say the wrong things
in the right time.
seems contradicting but in truth, I better stay silent and listen more than confronting any situations thats for the later part....
 Jul 2017
nivek
in the old I found a freedom
(not all)

and that wisdom was experience

freed from so much anxiety

by the simple act of living.
As the first drop fell on me
I looked up at the black canvas
gathering and rumbling ominously.

But there was supposed to be another
not far
but right over my head
to defend me against the weather
pattering insane
between me and the rain.

Did I by any chance
leave my umbrella here, sir?

I ran to the shopkeeper.

We all suffer this predicament
was his smiling statement
losing grip over our mind
letting things be left behind

and then came the mischievous addendum
as if my trouble had inspired his mood

go for good
once you let them go
woman and umbrella

they never again show.
 Jul 2017
wordvango
is just a
day an oasis
in eternity
 Jul 2017
K Balachandran
There was blinding darkness to deal with
at first; worse, glaring light to fend off too,
I held you closely,to my heart and moved
we pledged to explore together till the end.

But the play of light and darkness recur
now with different colors and other means.
We lost the compass that point the path we sought
we parted ways smiling at a juncture, unexpected,
in silence, though still aware of our one true calling
the  relentless quest to find a meaning absolute.

Now you are struck by the moment of epiphany
ask yourself about my whereabouts, perhaps fearing
I'm lost forever in  some wilderness unknown,I gather
may be far far away from you, now you'd be thinking
as you had concluded  I am wild, a meteor through space
But my love,never fear, find me there,within you, secure
at our old, rendezvous, that quiet,green space,eternal.
 Jun 2017
wordvango
it's time
time to load my most personal  things
taking only the most important

escape this apocalypse
you'll see me on the side
of the road
my cardboard box full of notepads

a lifetime of heart things
feelings tear stained yellow
page after page
pulling a Radio Flyer

on I-10
three  cats and an old faithful
black labrador dame
and one box
 Jun 2017
zebra
have you read the book of lies
such a comfort
to know how acceptable we are
like well placed silverware
as long as i keep moon shadow
in a cellar box shut tight
where little cocka demons
play unuttered
you can't hear them rustling about
but
i shake little bats and owls from my socks

am i lookin congenial today
just a teensy icky inside
bubbles in the belly
clinched toes in crowded shoes
eek
hope i'm not dead and don't know it

my graciousness plastered on
like white sheep over a goat
to get what i need of course
to make friends and influence
sorry
about my ti ti ticks
the way my fi fi fingers fi fi fidget

my towels are folded
and in place
vanilla cup cakes with sprinkles
all in a row
like little ballerinas prancing
as plutonic volcanoes heat
like spires pandemonium

my life a white glove inspection
all pressed and starched
like a mythic poem
written by a ******
stiff with holiness
as saints float over my head
yet the world
for all my good
a thunderous
black light
a poem about the struggle between who we are and our face to he world
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