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 Dec 2024
Francie Lynch
I'm nostalgic for those old wars;
The coloured Roses kind,
With heroes and villains named Henry or Joe.
Wars that inspired poems about fields and bunkers.
And songs. So many catchy lilts with
Tipperary, white cliffs and battleships.
And slogans that made children want to fight
Against Loose Lips and encrypted blips on collateral damages.
I could be persuaaded to enlist,
To serve along side guys like the Duke,
And ****... and **** Tojos and Huns,
While singing and dancing.
And the community. How all chipped in with the Effort.
Congealing around ***** of yarn or tinfoil...  and victory gardens!
We'd be three deep on the boulevard, handing flowers to marching children on Main St.,
And the pulpits and towers exalt our efforts:
God is with us.
Shangdi yu women tong zai.
Dieu est avec nous.
Gott ist mit uns.
Bag s nami.
Dio e con noi
.

Nobody has penned a memorable song
About Nagasaki;
We've seen some brain numbing,
Award winning pics
About Hiroshima.

We won't meet again.
I don't know when,
But how is definite.
A few big boys,
And...
Phsssszzzzzt!
How does that song go?
Vera Lynn: "We'll Meet Again."
There's no glamour in war.
 Dec 2024
Sadia
Through trials and storms, love remains intact
No distance can separate us when love is pure
Time may pass, but love continues to grow
Eyes hold a blaze,
a fire of love that never dies
No power on Earth
can break the bond of love between you and me
 Dec 2024
vienna bombardieri
What really matters
is not what happens to you
but how you experience it.

Don't let the world assault your soul, protect it if you can  
Don't let life beat you down, get up for the second round
Don't sit and stew on it, have a good cry then move on
Don't leave words unsaid,  "Say what you need to say."
Don't be a victim of circumstance just pave a new way.
 Dec 2024
Maddy
In the wee hours remembering yesterday and you
Even though you rejected me and my loving you was a one-way street
Remembering what was and what might have been if you let me in
The Love of my life came when I wasn't looking
It took two years to let you out of my heart
Remembering yesterday and hoping you found the love of your life too
I hope you are happy and healthy
Remembering yesterday and nineteen-year-old me
He knows what love is and I hope you found that too despite the pain you caused me.
 Dec 2024
South-by-Southwest
So amusing
just abusive
Words are blessings
in disguise

Pierce right
through me
Words of violence
deceitfully

Vows are choking
Only to be broken
Leaving pleasures
to blame


Just like
the viloence
the silence comes
crashing down

So amusing
Just abusive
Words are blessings
in disguise
 Dec 2024
Nemusa
It is in the smudge of mascara,
the red lip bleeding into the cracks
of a bitten mouth.
A quiet rebellion lives there.

Middle fingers do not shout;
they whisper—
a language only the tired
and the brave understand.

Running is not escape,
but a declaration.
A line of white powder,
a streak of neon—
these are maps
to the edge of something
sharp enough to cut.

They told us
fairy tales are for children.
But we grew up and learned
that happy marriages
are the most dangerous lies.

We sit behind screens,
armed with fake smiles,
perfect angles,
warriors of a war we don’t
believe in anymore.

The raves are loud,
but it’s the silence
of disappointment,
of insecure mornings,
of mirrors we cannot meet,
that tells the truth.

This is the war.
This is the smudge,
the smear,
the running.
And still,
we rise from the wreckage
like sparks in the dark,
too tired to shout,
too alive to stop.
 Dec 2024
Todd Sommerville
Die hard the poet's heart
Dashed with great fury against the wall.

Cursing to the heavens,
for sense of it all.

To see the beauty in the blood
 as it drips thick droplets from the blade.

To see, same said beauty, 
from a child's tears upon the grave.

Curse to the heavens.
Dash my heart against the wall.

And **** my poet eyes,
for the beauties seen in all.
Sometimes it feels we see things we shouldn't
or write things we shouldn't write
but would we still be poets if we did that?
Should we still be poets if we did that?
 Dec 2024
Nishu Mathur
They say that poetry doesn’t sell.

But then is poetry ever on sale?
Is poetry a commodity?
Is happiness on sale?
Is hope on sale? Is love on sale?

A poem could be a chunk of reality. Ramblings of a broken heart. A slice of humour. A beacon of light.

In the darkest of times, I have found poems that in a few words, beam rays of sunshine. That soothe unknown aches and pains. That hold my hand and pull me up. Bit by bit.

I may remain the proverbial ‘poor’ poet with large empty pockets. But poetry enriches me.

It casts a spell.  
So what if poetry doesn’t sell?
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