Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Between day and night, choose fight or flight, hide out of sight, shield from the light.

Cocooned in our beds, words trapped in our heads, a poets mind is forming, ideas begin their swarming.

Not conforming
              Lines deforming
                        Minds contorting
                                       Rhymes consorting.
May add more to this later
You cannot break the broken, you can't live in the past, throw that memory away, you cannot let it stay, oh I wish I had the power to change every wasted hour, to knock down this growing tower under which I fearfully cower, in my ball of self regret.

             
                    I can remember:

                Tears that I have shed.

                 Lies that I have said.

                 Pain I have inflicted.

              Oh how I feel conflicted.


But know now this, for it is true, for all the things I can't undo, I'd never regret loving you.
No sleep = creativity, how does that work?
Oml this made the daily poem, thank you so much everyone!!
 Feb 2017 pen n bolsillo
mike dm
and she spoke,
and her lips were myth;
her tongue, song:

forehead scar shone
lodes of rune
re-membered ember
of yesteraeon soot cooked
sitting fire in ashen ire re-sired

without him

her self
felt, *******
clod alive

tooth of skull
culled forth
bone spoken
tomes uttered

and i felt her light enter
this dilating space
of ebb and ruin and alone

stile of mine
thresheld, again
footfall of wynd,
blown open
into dope field sprung swim
 Feb 2017 pen n bolsillo
Q
Everything you took from me
Summed up to everything I was
The hardest thing about it all
Wasn't letting you go
It was arranging a new me
You wouldn't ever know
 Feb 2017 pen n bolsillo
M Harris
Stranded in a Spectrum entirely green,
I dream; in colors clustered around blue;
We meet; in swirls of turquoise.

Subliminal codes in her lullabies,
Allow her to control my dreams;
And when she makes green tea to calm me,
She uses mouse skulls instead of leaves;
It tastes like half-remembered dreams.

Eyelid transplants
Allow me to experience her dreams,
And when my dream-self leaves messages
On the inside of my eyelids;
They are blue notes
That shimmer in the morning,
Rescued from her memory-hole.

And outside, right before that morning,
The injured moon leaves smears
Of blue-green blood across the sky;
And soon, the earth is ringed with gore striations,

Celestial entrails halos;
It will be a day to remember;
A day of turquoise.
panicked apologies spilled from my mouth that night.
and now they echo like a chorus in my mind
as if i never left that night behind.

“please, no”
“you don’t have to do this”
“i didn’t mean to make you angry”
“i’m so sorry”

i’m
s o r r y.

my words weren’t enough that night.

i felt the life draining from within me right before my eyes,
desperately trying to save whatever light there was left in me,
but i died.

i
d i e d.

the world around me turned dark
and soon blood started spilling from my veins
instead of flowing through my heart.

if i wasn’t enough to save myself that night,
will i ever be enough to pull myself back up towards the light?
Kissing yellow-orange suede
lips,
barely brushing
hesitate to puncture such
unbroken flesh

then the light body lowers and feet
turn home again, left
hand
keeping sunrise and
saving it for breakfast.
She walked the trails
with a grace
only she could master

The sun shined
a little harder
every time she smiled

The birds sang
a little louder
every time she laughed

Her words
had enough power
to move mountains

She got lost in her thoughts,
I could tell because
her eyes lit up a bit more

She saw beauty
in everything
even in me

Adventure called her
and her heart gladly answered
"yes."
If you want to see pictures from this day, check out my site: www.petitcactus.weebly.com
Next page