Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Does Hurt get hurt
Bringing in Hurt...

Does Solitude
Finds a Place for itself in Solitude....

Does Misunderstanding
Ever befriends Understanding.....

Does Silence
Ever gets to speak for itself in Silence...

Do all Questions
Ever get to Answer Themselves....
 Oct 2017 phil roberts
Seema
I have been told that my writes are vague
Too vague that it sounds fake
The poem gets off track and basically floats
I do use symbols at times and quotes
But the message within my writes are unclear
It's ok, I accept the critics and I don't shed a tear
I apply a playful twist in my writes, some transparent, some translucent, some to the point and some with open queue
Whatever you might think, I actually like your view
The theme I choose are simple to one's mind
Yet, with fiction, imaginary and factual stories I bind
It's up to you to call it a pathetic write,
But I write to craft and I call this an art
Not to be perfect, as perfection is hard
One message could be interpreted differently
As the theme plays in my head structuring mentality
C'mon poets each write is a definition of our own creation
So read, smile and show your appreciation...


©sim
I am not judgemental, I just write coz I like doing so. I accept the critics :)
 Oct 2017 phil roberts
nivek
bones laid down with the earth beneath your feet
-the food chain of worms wriggling in the beak of birds
and all those trace elements on your plate
to trace your ancestry as they walked out the past
leaping into your teeth where history grinds in your sleep
memories laid down and those that just plain haunt
every step you take across the Earth to which you will return.
 Oct 2017 phil roberts
nivek
She painted her face each day to go to war.
 Oct 2017 phil roberts
nivek
the wind here can come all the way from America
and 'stuff' discarded junk, washes up from all over the World.
a bit like us incomers, here on our small archipelago, full of wind from somewhere else and we bring our 'junk' pots and pans and all manner of stuff collected over the years with us.
there are other winds, the breath of warmongers, comes via the various channels of communication, but also the breath of peacemakers, but they hardly get a word in these days, more whispers, than winds.
 Oct 2017 phil roberts
L B
Caught in the tangled, death of weeds
I hear the shots ring out
It has begun--
between the fading day of sky and hollow
crackling ice beneath my feet

Again, resounding shots above my head
with baying hounds
and threat of voices blazoning the prey
I do as I have always done--
make a run for it….
and always, in the past
I seemed to get away

My soul is sinking, this time
along with boots in ******* mud
-soaked panic-sweat
clambering up a bank in naked peril
numb with cold
Heaving breaths billow
onto frigid air
Stumbling sluggish
Moments cling
Inertia--
grapples for an edge...

With all my body's strength
exhausted longing
I heave myself back...

Fear floods out
like birth
into the lake of waking

A long time there
I lay
paralyzed, dumbfounded
My father used to take us with him trap-shooting in the open fields of Hatfield, Massachusetts.  We would huddle in the car and wait for it to end, but this day, I was exploring along the edge of woods before they started, and got caught out....

This is also about sleep-paralysis-- both terrifying!
 Oct 2017 phil roberts
nivek
love plays hide and seek
but always wants to be found

cannot hide for very long
for sharing is loves true game.
 Oct 2017 phil roberts
nivek
All things are a present to be unwrapped
and unwrapped again

a book within its cover
a seed within the fruit

a ghost within its skin
a heart within a voice.
Next page