Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2012 gg
Overwhelmed
planet mars
 Apr 2012 gg
Overwhelmed
air filled with hatred
sanity ****** clean
from the atmosphere,
I drown as the pressure
goes critical

ground now gone,
stability disappeared
into the dark void,
I beg for death in a
world devoid of life
 Apr 2012 gg
Will Brown
Have you ever held your hand still
Just above a river’s passing water
Liquid rushing by reaching for your skin
Jumping up; eager to commune with you
Beckoning you to dip a finger in
 Apr 2012 gg
Overwhelmed
there is a poem
I want
to write

but I am not sure what
it is about,
what it might
say,
or even
how it might
begin

but I know I want to write it
and I know that somehow
the rain will teach how

so I sit, door open
and listening, trying to
hear the message
the world is trying
to say
 Apr 2012 gg
Overwhelmed
the writing of a poem,
much like the taking of a ****,
is most satisfying when
it is large, slightly painful,
and locks you away in a small
room for what seems like
hours

and it was Bukowski
who said that the most satisfying
part of this is flushing
it away

seeing it go forth
into places that you.
yourself, shall never
have the heart to
brave
It was goodbye.
From beginning to end.
Whether we liked it,
or not.
It was a long goodbye,
several years,
stretched out over time,
so that in the end,
there was no pain.
Just memories.
It had its happy moments,
and its sad ones.
Most of those sad moments didn't occur till the end,
when in fact,
I knew it was over.
You see,
most goodbye's,
are short,
bitter,
and are usually full of unbridled rage.
We knew we didn't want that.
We wanted to be able to look back,
and say things ended,
on a good note.
Not an ugly one.
So we began saying goodbye from the beginning,
from the day we met,
we already knew it was over.
We knew someday,
it was gonna end.
One of us,
or maybe both of us,
wouldn't want to be with the other anymore.
Turns out,
it would be her who didn't want to be with me.
The day came,
the dreadful day,
where she said it,
goodbye.
I was okay,
or was I?
We had prepared for this,
for several years,
we built a tower,
a tower of love,
on happy memories.
But one word,
made me forget all of those memories.
Later that night,
I found my gun.
I sat in my room,
with my finger on the trigger,
for hours.
I never pulled that trigger.
I remembered,
the whole time I was with her,
I was saying goodbye.
We were saying goodbye.
We knew it was one big charade,
and that someday,
one of us wouldn't want to play anymore.
But like a fair sport,
the other would have to accept it,
and remember the fun they had playing their game.
So it was okay.
I was alright.
Who thought a goodbye,
could save your life.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
 Apr 2012 gg
Overwhelmed
the figure
 Apr 2012 gg
Overwhelmed
I awake,
finding myself
in a car
speeding
down a highway
in the middle
of the
night

someone
is driving

I do not recognize them,
I am afraid to speak

something
hints that it’s
smirking,
taking a small laugh
at my expense

it leans over then,
looking at me I know,
but it has no
face

it whispers

your turn

and is gone
 Apr 2012 gg
Overwhelmed
rest
 Apr 2012 gg
Overwhelmed
I sit,
contemplating
the world,
as I look out upon
a green country,
spotted by tan umbrellas,
and the blue ocean
waits somewhere
nearby
 Mar 2012 gg
Julia
Your shirt
 Mar 2012 gg
Julia
You gave me one of your shirts for Christmas.
And I wear it all the time.
That way, you'll always be around me,
Feeling like your mine.

Soon, I'll get a light gray hoodie
That has a red canoe.
It's sleeves aren't quite the same as your arms,
But they will have to do.
 Mar 2012 gg
Jon Tobias
Dear poet,

Dear ***** talker of some unrequited nasty,

Dear slow admirer,
Noticing my detail like a detective

Twist this halo into handcuffs
And love me already

Or don’t

I’m not real

And if I were

I’d hate to be her

You perfect pitch psalm sayer
Waxing generic

Quit the verbal dance

And dance with me

I am glad you know I’m not perfect

I am as faulty
As a topographical map of California

This body is chills

Is goosebumps

Is legs that were soft yesterday

Kiss them

Prickle your cheeks

Does your beard know the difference?

Do you?

Do I feel like scented sandpaper love notes
Still stained with a kiss?

I know I might just be squid ink to everyone else

But you dear poet

Dear detective
Black lighting my flaws into glowing beauty

Put your lips to my stains

They still taste like stains

You made them

You made me

You made me Dear Poet

Stop talking

And take me
It was suggested to me today that I wirte a poem from the perspective of the person who is recieving all the love poetry I write. What would she say?
 Mar 2012 gg
Overwhelmed
small rant
 Mar 2012 gg
Overwhelmed
nobody’s got
“pasts”
or
“secrets”
or
“deep, dark
hidden
lies”

they’ve just got
themselves
and
how much
they choose to
tell the world
about

the irony is that
the most mature (and
the least mature)
thing to do
is to say nothing
and let that
be
Next page