david mitchell: Favorites

Apr 2018 david mitchell

waves

Apr 2018 david mitchell

Nishu Mathur

waves

The sea is still today
It's cerulean blue and gold
I think of the thoughts it carries
Within its hidden folds.
Its touch is soft and gentle
It soothes the ache of years
But I wonder how many waves
Are made from fallen tears.

Dear everyone,

This is such a surprise! Thank you all for your likes, loves and responses. I have not been very active on Hello Poetry, but will get back in action soon. So much appreciated. Thank you Hello Poetry for selecting this as a daily. Thank you so much my friends and fellow poets for taking the time to read this poem of mine. It means the world to me. Love to everyone **

#life #nature #tears #sadness #loss

Apr 2018 david mitchell

a tanka

Apr 2018 david mitchell

Gargi

a tanka

blood red gulmohars
violent dancing raindrops
wet, rocky brown soil
slippery streets and cool nights
monsoon comes with happy tears

i hate counting syllables in english :)

#napowrimo2018 #tanka

Apr 2018 david mitchell

lessons from psych class

Apr 2018 david mitchell

Gargi

lessons from psych class

on some days
words ma k e don' tsens e
eyesscanthroughletters,onpages
pause at commas
and move along arrows
and the brain...
the brain buffers...at its own
...pace

on those days especially
you must gather your feelings:
listen to what they think,
nod your head in agreement,
smile at them the kindest smile you can,
and tell them,

thoughts are not facts.

difficult day but it's going to be so much better tomorrow!

#napowrimo2018

Apr 2018 david mitchell

i, ophelia

Apr 2018 david mitchell

n stiles carmona

i, ophelia

lillies and nettles! red roses and white!
i'm fresh as a daisy and rotten from spite!
you see, my lord, i've half a mind--
but it won't let me speak my mind --
my molars grind
and tense and bleed
- that's why my hands are red, you see! -
i tried to tear my tongue from my mouth
and found i'd ruined all my teeth.

few cared for my coherent word,
yet now that i can not be heard
there is a window in my door
they lean in close and wait for sure
signs of undisputed sanity
since my vital signs of life are not what they would like to be.
do you hear how they speak of me?

"hark! reapers sing in rapture, composing 'Ode To Void':
gaze upon the patron saint of self-obliteration.
this roadkill incarnate with inferno-coloured hair:
neck-deep in bloodied rivers of throttling despair."

re-write of an old poem

#ophelia #shakespeare #mentalillness #freeverse