Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I am struggling to get the words out
They are starting to feel empty, and forced

Poetry shouldn’t be like that.

Poetry should be as natural as breathing
As flowing as air currents

It should pour out with power, with purpose
Unrefined, but beautiful
Not in spite of it, but because of it.

And that is getting difficult to do.
 Mar 2014 Savannah Charlish
Chris
I opened the blinds.
I took a deep breath.
I reminded myself that I exist.
I let you go.

It was a routine morning.
 Mar 2014 Savannah Charlish
Xyns
Thank you for breaking me
And making me
A better me

Thank you for hurting me
And making me
A stronger me

Thank you for shooting me
And making me
Bulletproof

Thank you for burning me
And making me
Fireproof
This is an older poem. Things have changed since then. But this poem is highly relative to a lot of people and I liked it well enough so I posted it.
I don't mind
that you care.

I mind
that you worry.

Why?


Because I don't understand.
It's not important.
Not
She loves me
She loves me n...
No.
She love me
And there will
Never be a not
To follow
Those words
Because she
Would burn
All the other
Flower petals
Except for the
One in my hand
To make sure
I never doubt
The absence
Of that not.
When I was a teen
Vinyl was the scene
Forget
The tangled up cassette

Then came, scratch free CD
Now the one you cannot see...... MP3

Pulled apart
LP's wonderful art

Dusting down my old turntable
Spin some disks
Hope it's able

Making a warm crackle
The needle clicked into the groove
My ears did approve

So it's final
I'm going back to
Vinyl.
Could you fill my sunday mornings
with little kisses on the nose
between yawns
&
let sleep dance across our eyelids
just for a little

while
more
?
I love sundays.
I think I have fallen in love with Mondays too?
NO, we should love every day. Goodness knows, what giggles and smiles will come our way.
Hi there lovely reader!
I hope where-ever you are, you are having a wonderful sunday.
x
Next page