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s  Nov 2018
Egg
s Nov 2018
Egg
you sit on my back
like a chicken on an egg
with a mocking flap,
shuffle and a wiggle
tucked and stacked -
chuckle and a giggle.
both - joke and cuddle
- die as they're written though;
but could I risk to memory -
forgetting that tableau ?
--

as I sit to study
our curiosities -
creating patterns & poems
of contradicting absurdities;
listening to the jugalbandi
of predictability & tease,
instigating the battle
between curiosity & belief,
how we manoeuver differences
with a pursued kind of ease -
love sits quiet,
amused but revealed,
its appetite appeased -
with a wholesome kind of meal.
Blade Maiden Jul 2018
Sometimes I ask myself
when did my thoughts and hopes of blue and green
turn into violet worries, violent dispositions
When did this soul with its empty bookshelf
burn all its unwritten scripts of things yet to be seen
and my steady solace turn into a contradiction

I know what I want in life
when I see my favorite pieces of art
scattered accross the canvas of my solitary nights
my cold fingers once touched it and I can count it on all five
I want to believe that I'd be content with really only a shard
to know my dreams aren't just made of imaginary sights

My open heart drives me
in uncertain directions with clear aspiration, sometimes just insane
but always looking, always wanting, always one heart ahead
If my eyes could only look beyond uncertainty and I'd finally see
a way that goes far and will let me travel along a green country lane
If I could feel as if I'd know why it seems so difficult not to be dead.

In everything that had to be broken and shed
these distant promises on remote and empty shores
For only the contingency of all that could be good and whole
Truly not knowing where this road might have led
and still keep my hands open and reaching and breathe in deeply through all of my pores
let me just find one wholesome and abiding content in this burning library inside my soul
A very deep-rooted and emotional piece that just started to flow out of my head into my hands and finally on this page. I'm at a better place today, surely. But there's still so much that feels empty and uncertain and not.. quite right. And things sometimes seem so hopeless and sad in such strangely and terrifyingly normal ways. It's difficult to hold on to things that you want to live for. Here's to all the blind but necessary hope!
Ryan Joseph  Aug 2018
Millenial
Ryan Joseph Aug 2018
Millennial is what called in this generation,
Everywhere here and there,
There are always youths who really never care,
And never been worried about their future.

In Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Messenger,
Are contents of follower, liker, reader and including seener,
Loitering and using fake accounts just to gain a wholesome money,
Even though that it is notorious, they still embark their blunt journey.

Most millennials are undisputedly addicted to social media,
Their lives depends on likes they are going to gain,
They don't care if their faces might be inside of multi-media,
And they don't even care if it will give them a pain.

Some truly go beyond their limits just to have a lot of likes,
Perhaps they are fame *****, but they don't care if someone strikes,
Strikes every part of their body including their faces and such,
Yet they don't care if it will hurt them too much.

However, seeking attention in the cyber world isn't a good thing,
Instead they should focus on things that are essentially free like a king,
Because in this generation, too many people are unaware and careless,
And some they didn't even noticed that our environment is already full of fraud either hypocrite and genuine people are less.
millennial nowadays
Yes I might be depressed,
But that doesn't stop me from loving you.
You're the sweetest
A poem every day.
Kiki Shaw Mar 19
the
sincere
perfection
of
love
and
confidence
Based on a blackout poem from an introduction to Lewis Carroll's Alice In Wonderland.
sophia  Aug 2017
poetic
sophia Aug 2017
he was like a written poem carved from the wholesome heart of an ideal poet. he was free and never needed a rhyme or a crested harmonic tone to be complete.
david mungoshi Mar 2016
your coming in with the rising sun
in soft morning light and glistening dew
made me think life could be  a huge smile
and that nothing about you could be a trifle

conversation with you was like lyrical poetry
full of measured tones and profound emotion
words are wholesome food when one is enamoured
you sip their oozing nectar at every sugary pause

your voice was like a heavenly harp magically played
by expert fingers dancing to an inspired melody
that only i and they could hear, and cherish like a dream
thus see me now with my face still ravaged by possibilities

but alas, you decided to take your leave with the dying day
and i knew my bewilderment would last the stretch of eternity
you walked away into the twilight and never once looked back
those who go away with the setting sun do not always rise with it
Brother Jimmy Jan 2015
At times I’ve believed it

And at other times, scoffed,

One of the oldest of pivotal fears,

Mentioned in scripture and stories and hymns,

The execration is stinging my ears.

And throbbing, echoing, clashing rhythms,

With no beat ...such tension… Distortion’s risings,


A march over mazurka decelerating,

Curious uses for curious things,

Intestinal-pullings, intestinal strings,


Every warping conceived by my kind,

Like tearing of flesh and torture of mind,

Nothing that’s wholesome, nothing that’s good,

The truth bent, the opening crude,

The too-thin passageway out, understood

And my own rotting flesh is my food.
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