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Philip Larkin


Clark Davis Hitchens
M    "Ars longa/Vita brevis". Art is long, life is short.
Alicia D Clarke
A seventeen year old girl, just trying to find herself. I love writing. I use poetry as an outlet. Not just any outlet, I use ...
Ace Malarky
19/M/Minnesota    A creator, a weaver of words. Thank you for reading my poetry.


The lark ascends
on light wings

Taking flight toward
a heavenly home

It lingered here
but a short while

Certain of the course
she must go

A delicate beauty
and playful grace

Her twittering eyes

Deep trust for love
and sturdy branch

Of her verdant
earthly home

We reveled in her
abundant joy

She fed our spirits
and fondest hopes

Her gossamer wings
a fragrant breath

Her heart angels
hath divinely blessed

The lark is light!
The lark is life!
Her song forever young

The lark is kind
The lark is Thine
The lark is winging home

Godspeed Beloved
Pyrrha  Jan 2019
Pyrrha Jan 2019
He didn't know the love she had
Buried beneath her skin
Held behind the bars of her rib cage
Her heart was there, burning with desire
Beating within was the song of love sung by a lark

Alas, he couldn't hear it
From the surface he only saw an expressionless doll
He never listened to her when she tried to sing to him
That deafening sound that refused to please him

So instead of being left with a song
Destined to drive her to madness
She released the lark within

But that boy couldn't let her go
Tortured by the thoughts of her
Haunted by the memory of her
He defiled their trust

She could no longer stay silent as she planned
So she opened her mouth and told him
He was not a man
She hurt his pride and didn't mind

Her lark returned
But that pretty bird was consumed by rage
Her heart now burned with a different flame