Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 May 2016
Paul Gilhooley
I like the dark, I like the cold,
Away from life that makes me old,
To stop and ponder what should be,
And escape the life that's crippling me.

I like to sit out in the rain,
The splosh of droplets, relieve the strain,
This crash of water, the growing puddles,
Oft clear my mind, and all it's muddles.

To sit and feel the pelt of hail,
That crisp, sharp sting and blast of gale,
The swirling wind, no sounds of man,
Here I can work out who I am.

I want some time from behind the mask,
I do not think that's much to ask?
I like to get away from it all,
For chance to be the real Paul.

Working out which path to follow,
To stop me feeling empty, hollow,
Where to go, to do what next?
This age old problem leaves me vexed!

From within my soul I feel its growl,
It's evil, demented, cavernous howl,
It's mere presence chills to the bone,
This demon follows, wherever I roam.

Controlling thoughts, fuelling fears,
Crippling ambition, driving tears,
My plans to go forward, it brings to a halt,
As everything in life, is always my fault.

My future remains lost in the haze,
Living with this darkness for all my days,
All that remains, is my epilogue,
I'm living with the big black dog!*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016
 May 2016
Sedoo Ashivor
No thought is original
What you do
Has been done before
The ideas you get
Have been spoken for
Your work might be illegal

Seriously,

Your mind taps from
Things you've seen
Things you've heard
Places you've been
Words you read

The more you experience,
The more inspired you get.
The bigger your imagination,
The wider your creative net.

Truly,
There is nothing new under the sun
One day, my words will be reborn.
 May 2016
Hadrian Veska
The crows fly back
Into the ground
A chilling wind
Blows all around

A watching eye
Peaks through the trees
A crying voice
On bended knees

A colorless world
Devoid of reason
Without change
For there is no season

A burning pool
Of water and blood
Petrifies the ground
Sinks into the mud

My shadow lengthens
Stands up on its own
The silence deafens
I wish I weren't alone
 May 2016
David Ehrgott
one little poem
can heal a hurt
one little poem
in the pocket of a shirt

a shirt that's ripped
with a spot of dirt
has a poem in its pocket
that could heal a hurt

a hurt can't heal
if a heart can't hear
the words of the poem
that create the cure

the cure for the hurt
it begins with a verse
but you need to read the words
so the cure can be heard

be heard all ye poets
check the pocket of your shirts
and speak of the poem
that can heal a hurt

a hurt can be healed
by the power of a verse
one little poem
in the pocket of your shirt
 May 2016
Dhaye Margaux
My skin  is now ready for your eyes
Not for a stranger in the night
I know you are waiting for a rhyme
Like a rainbow that's out of sight

I painted birds and  chickens on canvass
I know you'll remember this day
Spend time calculating the hues
To create a piece all the way

You may fall short of  time and chance
Sometimes you may pause and then hurry
But that's how we  create like we explode
Be obedient if you don't want to feel sorry.

-----

She's an artist. She paints.  She write songs,  poems and stories.  Even a stranger  could prove that. Her skin tattoos speak so well.  You can see flowers and animals on her arms,  neck and shoulder.  So funny that even chickens can be seen once you closely look at those marks.  

As a poet,  she mostly observe rhyme and meter.  She would always spend time calculating the syllables in a line.  She always remember her mentor's teachings even when writing short pieces. There was no moment that she's not obedient of the rules she had learned from him. She won't forget that anything should not be done in a hurry.  

She is an artist,  and her  creativity is like an emotion that is going to explode once properly set.
For the 10  Words I Give Contest...
The given words:
S K I N
S T R A N G E R
R H Y M E
C H I C K E N S
R E M E M B E R
C A L C U L A T I N G
S H O R T
H U R R Y
E X P L O D E
O B E D I E N T
 May 2016
Torin
So many drown in depth
So few
Can see depth with feeling
I am an ocean
Could you be a shark?
Breathing underwater
Always moving forward
Ready to eat my words alive

So many burn in the fire
So few
Can ever control
I am a flame
Running wild
Untamed by hands of man
Turning all to ashes
Especially the willing cinder

I burn for you
I throw my spirit onto paper
My spirit
I only hope you can overcome
 May 2016
Torin
May my words be glorious
Victorious
Infintisimal
May they be a glitch in the matrix
Seen before
Done before
When it's the first time you hear

May they be the wings of angels
The hands of devils
The non committal
The ever lasting truth
And always
Let all of my words speak to you
In a way you never knew
Let them show deeper meaning
Profundity of feeling

May my words be shouted from a pulpit
Or whispered from a pit
May they be everything
Both fools gold
And wiseman's lesson
An image you see in your mind
The beauty of mankind
And the torture that comes from living
A painting in black and white
With no canvas
And space and shape
Are only sound
Of my words read aloud

May my words be the footfalls
Of a sanguine traveler
A despondent wanderer
Let my words find their home
That they may win or lose
Or be whatever you choose
Let them find you

May my words reach you
 May 2016
Valsa George
We are the chosen pair
of an eternal waltz
to sing and dance
in timeless rhythm
blend in
indivisible togetherness!

Though our feet are not laid
on carpeted floor
and no cheering crowd
to applaud the show,
we keep waltzing
in fervent zeal !
 Apr 2016
Colten Sorrells
I broke the last one
from abuse
it'd been worn out
and badly used
and when I told her
of the news
it seemed that she
was not amused
I played it hard
I played it fast
I told her that
was in the past

but she told me
she didn't care
it wasn't like
she had a spare
humidity,
the cold,
the sun,
to her it didn't
sound like fun

I told her
that was all okay
I wouldn't leave her
in the rain
and I would
strum her every day

I'd take my pick
and lightly strum
just hard enough
to make her hum
never have I
broke a string
and I'm precise
in *******

I've rhythm
that would curl her toes
and I can play
with my eyes closed

I'd give her
just what she deserves
I'd worship
every inch of her
the lyrics
I would not forget
not just one song
but a whole set
I'd play until
I'm tired and sore
and then I'd play
a couple more
Next page