Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jul 2014 S
Victor Hugo
Take heed of this small child of earth;
He is great; he hath in him God most high.
Children before their fleshly birth
Are lights alive in the blue sky.

In our light bitter world of wrong
They come; God gives us them awhile.
His speech is in their stammering tongue,
And his forgiveness in their smile.

Their sweet light rests upon our eyes.
Alas! their right to joy is plain.
If they are hungry Paradise
Weeps, and, if cold, Heaven thrills with pain.

The want that saps their sinless flower
Speaks judgment on sin's ministers.
Man holds an angel in his power.
Ah! deep in Heaven what thunder stirs,

When God seeks out these tender things
Whom in the shadow where we sleep
He sends us clothed about with wings,
And finds them ragged babes that weep!
 Jul 2014 S
letitgoghh
Untitled
 Jul 2014 S
letitgoghh
"They say 'if you love something let it go'. But how could she let him go when he was the reason for the faint smile playing on her lips".
 Jul 2014 S
letitgoghh
"It's 3 am and I can't sleep. My mind is clouded with the thoughts of you".
 May 2014 S
Lame Poet
It's laughable.
In the way that lets people know
you've maddened--
oh, you're a ripe, juicy
one now--
and also tells
them you learned the proper
definition of irony--
and the steam from your breath on
New Years' Eve
won't straighten out the wrinkles.
The laugh wrinkles on
your face are reflected as
frown lines in
your eyes.
It's laughable.
In the way that lets people know
absolutely nothing about why
you seem to have heard
something that made you
just split your sides with
laughter.



-LP
 May 2014 S
seasonalskins
i wish to unmeet you
         only to meet you again.
My body heaves and convulses
while tears stream down my face
blurring my vision
like a camera lens in fog.

My mind was sick.
I had just watched the movie
The Pianist about the Holocaust.
The Holocaust was sick.
A man in a wheelchair fell
from a tenth story window,
dumped out by the SS.
Sickness.

My body was sick.
I could not speak.
I could barely cry for that matter.
All I could do was sob.

My spirit was sick.
I hadn't prayed in a whole month
and God and I were floating
farther   and         farther            apart.

My soul was moved.
I heard the real star in The Pianist
Wladyslaw Szpilman play
Chopin's Nocturne in C# Minor.
(that is NOT a hashtag)

That was when I broke down.
This actually happened. I was at home one day from school with nobody around and turned on Chopin's Nocturne in C# Minor. I swear I could hear every death he had witnessed during the Holocaust in that song.
 Mar 2014 S
April
Tattoo
 Mar 2014 S
April
She asked me if I had a tattoo
I told her
Yes, my tattoo marks upon my chest
stretched long and wide it resembles all my pride
what pride she asked
I said
my lungs are breathing
my blood is pumping
what more could I ask for
I did not include
that my tattoo long and wide has stitches all around
Every night
it burns my flesh
its spews the shakes' like a mini earthquake
By morning
I pick up the rubble
and curse the day I added this sentimental devil
 Mar 2014 S
Cassie Stoddard
Untitled
 Mar 2014 S
Cassie Stoddard
Tonight I want to
cut.
Well, I actually want to be
loved.
But that's not happening
Next page