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 Jul 2017 Pat
fairyenby
I wish I were permanently drunk and I wish I didn't wish that.
I wish I were permanently hair flying mouth smiling loud talking proud walking drunk
in the middle of the day
replace the need to say
I'm sorry I mean thank you I mean please don't hate me I mean you can hate me but tell me if you hate me don't pretend to be my friend and
I wish I were permanently drunk without the drink
without the sharp taste that hits the back of my throat like the anxiety which comes with showing that I care
without the down it if you dare
without the fall without the crawl without the fumbling in stalls
I think you might have gotten the idea by now but just incase I'll tell you anyway
when I say
I wish I were permanently drunk
I mean
I wish I were permanently in love with myself.
I wish I were hands on hips and mouth on lips and a full chest and my absolute best
and
I wish I could move down a corridor without wincing
wish I could speak without convincing
myself and you and her and him and them
to stay.
I wish I were okay.
what did I just say?
I'm fine.
Ok but this poem was not supposed to rhyme.
I wish I were permanently drunk
or
rather
I wish I saw myself the way I stare at forests of green
I wish I could make myself beam
rather it is
the ******* the bus with the really pretty eyes
and
the poets with their words and their desperate tiny cries
and
I wish I looked at myself and saw sunflowers blooming from the broken parts of my chest
and
I wish I would just stop for a moment and rest
and
I wish I were permanently drunk
in the middle of the day
on nothing but self love and self esteem and self self self
scream it like I'm standing on the edge of a pier for the whole world to hear
I wish I could stop apologising for my existence
well, you know, the universe would shout back,
you'll get there.
It might just take a little persistence.
an attempt at slam poetry
an attempt at self love
(neither of which I know how to do)

An old one I'm not too sure about anymore but what the hell x

Jan 2016
 Jul 2017 Pat
Hiba Mohammed Sobh
Her
 Jul 2017 Pat
Hiba Mohammed Sobh
Her
She was a shy, sensitive young woman with smaller hands and lean, long fingers that beautifully graced the pencil as she wrote poetry, or rather, the whispers of her heart within a small leather notebook, whenever she became curious, the dark, lustrous brown eyes would glimmer in fascination as the entire world would become you, she was not particularly beautiful though her heart was pure, remaining hidden through her poetic worlds as though listening to classical music, the streams of violins are the winds tousling her midnight hair as a dreamer of the night, her quiet demeanor and depth in thought hide her way in understanding and shaping a person or only musing about the simple beauty of the moment, she would see the stars while everyone walked past them and appreciate what others could not see at first glance, as the light once hidden among the leaves she was noticed by the one who had came closer, while placing her palm on her fair face when thick in listening, the painted portrait of the female poet always held her cup of warm tea, content in her recluse until there was a gaze upon her, opening a glimpse into her soul.
Note: A newly updated version of the poem
 Jul 2017 Pat
Lakshmi
Life
 Jul 2017 Pat
Lakshmi
A connection, a spark,
light in the dark;
lust into love,
as pure as the angels above;
both so young, both so dumb,
just the two of them was their sum;
they felt the world move as they moved,
everything intertwined in just their groove;
so madly in love, as if the world was only filled with those two,
both went hand in hand together, like a toolbox and the screws;
but then, both did things they said they wouldn't do,
and soon they realised it was no longer them two;
they realised in fact 'the world does not revolve around us',
and they were just two teenagers who were once in ocean deep love;
and as the days had passed, they had spoken less and less,
both did things to ease away the stress;
and now, they would hardly speak at all,
ironic for two who once stood so tall;
and all they have now are memories so fond,
of the love they had for each other, once so strong;
and now in their hearts, the memories remain deep,
for every once in a while, there would be a tear or a weep;
funny how life pans out,
yet time keeps moving forward, without a doubt...
 Jul 2017 Pat
Liz Carlson
Gone
 Jul 2017 Pat
Liz Carlson
I wrote you a note at 5 am,
you read it,
with no reply.
Before you left you asked for a picture of the two of us.
I made a joke and we laughed through the pictures.
But all that I could think about was
how it felt to have your arm around me.
It was holding me,
as I held you.
I wish I could go back to that moment,
but it's gone.

When we said our goodbyes,
it hurt so much.
I wanted to tell you so many things,
but time was running out.
I hugged you so many times,
you thought it was strange.

As soon as you walked away,
my heart felt empty;
I missed your presence already.
We touched hands as you drove away
in that big green van.
I ran after you,
as did other friends.
But you were gone.

I can still see your eyes gazing into mine,
and your oh so sweet smile;
but you're gone.
Nowhere to be seen.
 Jul 2017 Pat
sabrina flowers
I've never been good at
Being touched.

Though the fingers
Of endless suitors
Have traced incomparable
Lines of affection,
They all stroke
The same wounds.

New hands feel like
Recycled lullabies,
Humming promises
Of a new melody,
Singing a remedy for
My impassivity.

Whether words fall
Passionate or
Fearful,
Endearment lines my lips
With an expiration
Long enough to convince me,
But short enough to leave me.

Reminding me:
The disintegration of
Indifference
Remains
My prerequisite
For destruction.

So before you
Touch me with
Promises of a new
Orchestration,
I'm already marking the
Days until you leave.

Because my skin
Is tired of
Intruders hidden
Behind momentary
Infatuation.

So keep your hands to yourself.
 Jul 2017 Pat
Abigail Ann
That night
 Jul 2017 Pat
Abigail Ann
I still remember that night when we first met
You were celebrating your friend's birthday
and within a blink of an eye, our group clicked right away
That night, that moment, feels just like yesterday

I still remember that night when we first kissed
That night which I truly miss
You even asked for one more kiss
then your hands perfectly traced my cheeks

The best things in life really do happen unexpectedly,
Our story may not began beautifully
but everything happened so smoothly
A story in a short period of time, made both of us happy

I will never forget every single night that we're together,
That night where it all started,
that night where you confessed,
and lastly, the night where our story ended.
 Jul 2017 Pat
nora
There is a place called empty
a claustrophobic room
Inside it tries to tempt me
my soul it will consume

It preys on broken people
whose hearts facile to break
their bones were made feeble
their brains made opaque

There's a depth beyond this place
it's relatively hard to find
your world you must embrace
for you to free your mind.
felt like rhyming
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