Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
M-E Dec 2018
I wanted to live the american dream
But my dream is homesick
Years later and here I am
Just a wanderer
In the cemetery of dreams
I wrote a poem recently.
Not so much a poem,
more like a story;
a story of love,
kind of like a love story.
Sure,
it was the best love story
we've never read.

There were romances,
struggles,
some revelations
and resurrections...
even a few bruised egos.
Blah,
blah.

Yessir,
a bayside view of
false paradise
if I'd ever seen one;
some dogeared page
ripped out of a
journal written in ink
and found in the gutter.

No beginning or end.
Just a thought.
A memoir
of a fantasy that should've just
been
and never had to explain itself.
note: Do not read.
M-E Dec 2018
When I was a child, so many wonders and questions rise up to my grip-sized head
"Mommy. Where I come from?"
"Daddy. Why the sun is yellow and the sky is blue?"
"Mommy. Will I die like Grandpa? When?"
"Daddy. Why you are my dad?"
"Daddy. Why this coin can buy everything I want from the grocery store?"
Now, I just keep reminding myself that I ve got a rent to pay and a mouth to feed.

-19/06/2018-
I started few months ago writing some thoughts while going to work or wandering in the streets and I thought to share it with you guys. :)
M-E Jan 9
Just a wanderer in the streets
Days driving in slow motion
As public transportation
Buses or trains
In the roads I call my veins
Signs of temptation
On every grocery store
I opened the padlocks
On every bookstore
Opened the windows and the doors
Fighting the urge for more
I can't take it anymore
Cried as if traffic lights went green
Stop. I am not giving up.
I need to write it
down.
The wanderer is still struggling, fighting, wandering.
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
Tomorrow's sunrise
is a memoir.
It remembers
an exact mirror.

Like it showed up
a thousand times earlier.
At the end of the same
veiled night.

Once again will it take
a trip to the memory lane
and lay on a sea of primulas
interpreting in colour
that’s sweet dream!

The sun is in the know
It will paint across.
But own’t touch the rose
it will sleep in its dew.
Woke up from a dream,
only a memoir.
Mornings
without
you.
jeanette korbel Mar 2015
I am not scared and I will be strong. I’ve been lonely for ten years and now, I can see what has been gone. I am taken to a different place, far from home. The plane took me high and soared until things got low. I walked down the hallway of doom and distress. This wouldn't be a problem if he had never left. Walk into a room thats plain yet, engaged in activity. A conveyor belt and tags that say names, scrambled in my mind going their separate ways. I tell myself to focus and find my bags from here. The voices and the noises distract me, nothing has been clear. I see my name as nauseous as I can be. My stomach has taken a turn on me.


I find my bag and look around my vision is blurred and I can not hear a sound. I see his face threw the sea of people. Wearing the same flannel sweater he had ten years ago. He dominates the atmosphere with his torn up pants and his messed up hair. He looks the same but his hair is receding. His face is drooped down like paint that just won't dry. He grew tall but skinny like a plant that has withered. His face is pale but his eyes are rich brown. He has a genuine smile with teeth that had fallen out.
  
I walk up to this man I haven't seen in years we looked at each other and, we burst out in tears. Even though I don’t know him, I remember his face. From ten years passing by I’d imagine he's changed. He use to be plump and his face well rounded now it looks like he had been beaten by thoughts and loneliness. I can tell when he seen me his life already got better. He couldn’t stop talking like he was gone for forever. I talked right back to him because, I know how it feels.

I look back on all the years without him and realized we feel the same. The difference is he made the choice of being alone ,I had no need to be left. I felt lost my whole life, until he came back. Lost from what I can’t quite figure out. I just needed to feel the feeling of him being around. We walked out the crowded place and, went on from there. No one really changes, he still smelled like beer. You think someone would give up the little things for something so big. I left a couple days after, and haven’t seen my dad since. He chooses to be lonely and, I still suffer from it.
Blade Maiden Sep 2018

I want
my heart on a platter
so I can see the ins and outs
Want the act to matter
See it mirrored, my mouth, it shouts

Feels like
standing in front of the mic
singing of losing track of time
remembering this certain chime

Means I
don't really know how to defy
feeling lost in the rubble
of uncertainties and trouble

I hide
behind buckets full of the tide
I filled when the ocean didn't look
all I could see I took

I keep
time in a place safe and deep
live inside a moonlit jar
an ocean filled reservoir
read my own memoir
and said au revoir
Allaround me, an endless realm
                   But
In you I see me.
Reminiscences.  Art.  Love
Next page