Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Dec 2015 Janoortje
nate k
oxygen
 Dec 2015 Janoortje
nate k
dyspeneic,
he kissed her
        like she
was his
                                    last breath
(c) nate k. 2014
10w.
i promise you will never be as beautiful

as you are in the eyes of a poet.


did you ever think

that the curve of your lips

would be worth writing about?


oh god,

that crooked smile

has my pen bleeding ink

faster than i can keep up


did you know that

i’d find inspiration from

the scars on your hands?


tell me,

did you know that

i would write about the way

the light fell on your face that night,

the hair dangling in your face,

your eyes looking more beautiful than

the stars above us?


does it bother you to know

that all of our secrets

make their way

onto paper?


or does it comfort you

knowing that

i can’t forget?


what does it do to you?

knowing that i compare your words

to flowers growing in the bottom of my soul,

the weeds entangling around my heart…


does it bother you that

i’ve turned you into a poem

over and over again?


or does it do nothing at all?

please tell me.
 Dec 2015 Janoortje
Brent Kincaid
Falling for hyper-fit gym rats.
Salivating over straight guys
Dating guys who never once
Looked me right in the eyes.
Much too easy to be picked up,
It’s almost like they know I am
The perfect dupe for one-night stands;
The sucker for the guys that scam.

I’ve had my wallet lifted once
My car stolen one time, too.
I have lots of phone numbers
Nobody is connected to.
I laughed at all their jokes and
I bought all of the drinks,
And never once did he seem
To want to know what I think.

It was all so very mellow, then.
I told him my name when we met.
But within a half hour after that
He forgot it, I would place a bet.
He never introduced me to
Any of the guys who said hi.
There might be other reasons
But I think he forgot is why.

Once I thought my problem was
That I was being much so easy.
That good guys weren’t attracted
To someone that was too ******.
But age and wisdom taught me
Being needy is dating poison.
So, I’m slowly but surely learning
An extremely humiliating lesson.
 Dec 2015 Janoortje
Rapunzoll
Truth is you
weren't blameless
I saw your eyes
flash red that night
the fire in your palms
wouldn't burn out.

Together we were
a suicide pact,
there was something
about the drug in
each others eyes
that made us want
to overdose.

We itched like
razor blades
on each others skin,
our tongues a noose,
heartbeats fast,
furious.

My hands bled love
my knuckles
bruised like skies
I puked up every word
until I could finally
say goodbye.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
our love is god. let's go get a slushie.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
© copyright
 Dec 2015 Janoortje
Kwanele
how
 Dec 2015 Janoortje
Kwanele
how
how dare you?
  give me all that soul?
                 all that love?
       baby all that art?
how dare you give me that,
         and then take it away?
that is not okay, i am not okay.
-whoever you are
baby, i just need closure.
 Dec 2015 Janoortje
Thomas Davies
What does it mean?
Those three little dots...

What does it mean?
Cause i use it always and everywhere...

What does it mean?
It explains so much about me...

What does it mean?

Maybe I'm just
Full of thoughts
I can't fathom into stars...
 Dec 2015 Janoortje
o
The worst part of poetry
is trying to make everything rhyme.
With the amount of time I pine
bending lines to make them mine
and fine, sublime - sorry for the slants but I'm
needing to do a lot more productive ****.
...but instead I sit and craft witty
Pity-inducing stories of my worries,
of my mind. My poems.

The worst part of poetry is the vocabulary.
Should I write this like a novel
or more like a train of thought?
My brain is pumping raw ideas
my heart is thumping words I see as
honest, authentic - messy.
How do I make my feelings more appealing to a crowd,
to a person sitting in a room looking through
an online blog of poetry?

The worst part of poetry is getting stuck.
Writing a really good line and waiting...
for the next... ...good line.

The worst part of poetry is metaphors.
******* it, how many times can I liken your smile to a sunrise,
say your presence is an ice cream cone and a warm fire all at once on a mid-summer night,
or describe how many different kinds of scars
your absence leaves?

The worst part of poetry
is how it makes ideas out of people,
makes them so much bigger and so much thinner than they are,
fits their hearts into simple charts saying,
"This is her mark. This is his work. I have put it into a poem. I have made them art."
But the worst part of art is it can only get at parts -
all we can do is one point of view.
You will never paint me and I will never paint you
completely.

Reality is not poetry.
The worst part of poetry is it's just like us:
Trying
line by line
to get at least something right.
Next page