Esha - Hello Poetry

Esha Aug 2018

I banged my head onto the wall until it got splattered to a thousand pieces of colourful mosaic;
******* all the gloom, wet and sticky, on which they lay and grew prosaic.

Somethings like flowers, like coloured rain drops fell on my hands;
Through which they easily pervaded.

Flowing up, through the vessels, to the brain;
Overflowing and leaking from the wrinkles and filling up the skull,through the ears out they drain.

Creating infinite abstract blooms, which try escaping;
Out, again into the gloom, of the head that is dehiscing.

Those invisible blossoms spread across the room like mildew;
Soon creating a world of their own, ugly and new.

Esha Aug 2018

The one I wish to be.

I want to be the child she wished me to be;
But they won't let me and keep on haunting me;
Bad habits are what they are called;
Having spread their roots deep within, holding me taut.

Am I thinking of myself too highly;
If I say this whole precious day was wasted on me solely;
Wow nonsense! You have a brain fog, you cannot even think clearly.

Writing poems and stories, maybe you should just give up;
'Cause you're not confident or talented enough to write about important issues and real stuff;
Can you understand your own self?
Will you ever figure out or do you need help?

I don't even know, if I'm good at anything at all;
A single achievement or moment of pride, can you recall?

Stop the abstract and actual stabbings;
They'll just hurt in vain, and are not acknowledged to be actually punishing.

Lousy rhymes, lame lines, lazy you;
I just cannot understand, no matter how much I try to.

Self-loathing is never helpful, is it?

#self #life #loathing

Jul 2018

emnabee

The secret life of poets

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.

#secret #life #poets

Jun 2018

Carina

Journey to happiness

Sometimes you have no reason to stay,
and realize that's a perfect argument to go.
And that taking an entirely new way,
is the sore but single method to grow.

If you're washed-on abeyance's bight,
and you feel decision's heavy heft:
To choose the left where nothing's right,
or go to the right where nothing's left.

Remember it matters not where you proceed,
or which mountain you want to ascend.
It does not matter whether you succeed,
it is the journey that matters in the end.

#journey #trip #travel #way #growth #happiness