Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
  Feb 2018 unnamed
Will
Lay me down in fields of green,
whisper promises and dreams,
as wildflowers sway in rippled sighs,
and treetops kiss the smiling sky.
Hold me close and stroke my hair,
while breathless love songs fill the air.
Never fear for I am near,
always close to you my dear.
  Feb 2018 unnamed
Eric the Red
The truth about poets
Is
They’re not all alike
Some are derelicts
Scalawags
Lovers
Sisters
Some say they’re writers
Instead of Poet
For they know what that puts
Into the minds of others
Romantic
Lethargic
Gypsy
Some will never write novels
Poems are their Ulysses
Their ‘Love in the Time Of Cholera
Some are sad
Withdrawn
Choose to live there
While some poets
Use their words
To claw their way out
Some have fallen out of love
&
Want someone
ANYONE
to listen
While some have fallen in
the deepest ocean
&
Want to tell the world
What this man
This woman
Means to them

Most write their verses
Alone
Some at midnight
Some at sunrise
Some with coffee
Most with bottles

Most will never see the reaction
Of many
Will never hear
‘I like that...’

And most don’t want to be famous
Or sometimes heard
We
Just want to be
Ourselves
  Feb 2018 unnamed
GitacharYa VedaLa
I'm a collection of solitudes
A silence derived from
the summation of all languages
  Feb 2018 unnamed
Sonja Benskin Mesher
visuals

this morning you came with snow

falling



we know the cars

with snow falling



it is not what we meant

yet



we swapped photographs



blaenau translated
  Feb 2018 unnamed
yúyīn
JJsbdksndkkdmxmjshJustletmediemmmkbhbxjdnxnbdjxbdnxnnxnxnImsotire­dofthisnsjs nkksbdndnbdthese tears wontstopjdjdnn znjsnndudndkdknfkdmssnfnjdndnndbdbdbdnWhythepainstilllivesin myheartjjxnxjxjdn mykdjdvjsndjcjndndncnxkxnkxndkdkjdnskxhjshdjddndeImsofuckingtired­msnndksnxonshxidnkxndjsjdbjdkslmsndjjdbdisbdjjdksndjdhbsndnndjdjd­ndnd


Youllneverunderstand me
@.**
Next page