Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Believe it or not -

I gather you do.

I’m fueling, a growing fire

which burns bright
and gold.

Since my shy heart,

loves beauty

for it, is all of you.

A glowing sun,

playful and greedy,

as I.
P. Written in 2025.
I wanted to feel it
The joy of being understood.
Time lapse
Remembering the future is just fine
New concepts of light, space and time
Being on the edge of new ideas
Listening and learning from two different eras
Believing in fate and destiny
Sometimes traps me sometimes sets me free
We searched the skies for shooting stars
yet never thanked the quiet moon—
'how it stayed
how it prayed'

even when we didn’t.
We mourned the flowers we never held
but not the hands that reached for us
when we were too broken
to feel their warmth.

Rain fell on rooftops like lullabies
and we cursed the weather
never knowing it was—
god’s soft way of asking us to rest.
there were days we begged for signs
for answers wrapped in thunder
yet the silence itself
was an answer—
a mercy wrapped in stillness.

We wrote poems for those who left
but not for the air that stayed
when our lungs gave up,
or traffic that halted our time
so we wouldn't be wounded by—
death's call that compromised
oh, how blind we were
to the blessings that never screamed—
the mother who prayed behind a closed door
the stranger who smiled and meant it
the night that didn’t last forever.

We begged for forever—
but were handed fleeting moments
wrapped in the scent of old rain,
echoing laughter in empty rooms
we never thought we’d miss
we thought love had to arrive
like fire through glass
but it was the scarf left to be found
the door left unlocked
the voice that whispered "I believe in you,"
when even we didn’t.

Look closer.
Sometimes,
what saves you
doesn’t come with a name.
Sometimes,
love never announces itself—
it just leaves the light on
And maybe that
was the blessing all along.



Erennwrites
Lights up a smoke
Takes in a draw
Laughs with a rasp
Chokes with a cough

Lives for the sensation
Of smoke in her lungs
On the ladder of life
She skips a few rungs

Prefers the menthol
Says it freshens her breath
With little regard
The rest smells like death

Side of the pack reads
They bring on disease
Smiles at that fact
Behind yellow teeth

The very same ones
She's lying through
When she says she can quit
Any time she wants to

Fires another one up
Takes in a deep drag
With what little lung
She seems to have left

Laughs with a rasp
Chokes with a cough
Never once wonders
At the sense of it all
what you now hold
is a simple poem
that simply states
it's done nothing wrong

doesn't cause any waves
in what it has to say
has no point of view
on truth, love, or hate

does not try and hide
behind cleaver rhymes
though it might take up
some of your precious time

simply stating the facts
on what it has or lacks
if you can relate
this poem is okay with that

takes time to exercise
it's poetic rights
then when it comes undone
it takes to high flight

where it seeks out a hand
in which to land
this simple poem
that holds no demands
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


that which used to take ten minutes
now takes an hour or
two

something's that used to take an hour or
two,
now take ten minutes, give or
take,
(mostly I do the taking)

(or as the little voice whispers, the mostly
faking)

betcha you'd like to which is what
and what is which being bewitched,

I ain't spilling no beans
cause I value my insanity's privacy,
and I don't got to give that up just yet

but if you want the worst of what little I got left,
unhappily I will approach the old muse
begging me giving me something to use,
bad she turns away bad she say

"You all tricked out,
you wares worn,
ye old styles from yester last month
you been styled by
  H&M;
30 days max,
then
ring in the new, and if all sold,
or none-at-all,
too bad for you


then you gotta decide:

wear a watch
or watch the wearing
with  small
pleasures sighed,
confirming,  night-moves,
gonna
Keep On Keeping On
Living
it ain't easy, when you relate, restrict and delegate,
when you draw a narrow lane on a highway that says
only left footed
poets need apply
<>
it does not say
slow cars stay to the right,
only trucks,
or oddly even,
no trucks



I love seasonality,
without thickly thinking
you take a break
from the poetry writing

one day I'll figure out a way
to monetize my love poems,
publish them as Shakespeare's couple(t)s,
"new edition plus
a couple of
newfound poems!"

maybe some fools will buy some thinking Shakespeare has been, resurrected!

love grows goes hot all over and
grow slower older
and grow colder,
in between those fine
ticklish teasing moments


when the miracle of resurrection repeats itself

something is said
a gesture is made
a finger strokes the cheek,
unexpected
and it all comes
rushing back again,
overfilling
that coffee cup mug she bought
just(ice)
for you

ain't gonna check how long it's been
since last I declaimed, disclaimed,
inflamed,
these pages with an only love poem

but I do know this:
it is something I think about,
It is something I know about,
it is something I feel about
daily
even on the nothing days,
when routine takes over
I know you couldn't remember of its passage,
is the waking up and the lying down to sleep


but the poets eyes are always open his emotive secret senses,
always alert,
what's that thing they always say,

his heart just wasn't in it!
(🥴if they only knew the truth😘)
Next page