Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2018 Shrishty
Sueño
Mask
 Oct 2018 Shrishty
Sueño
You’re covering something
Hiding it so patiently
Waiting for the time
To let it out
Painfully .
I can see it in your eyes
I can sense it when you talk
A really bad secret
That You could live without

You mask it so well
Until the blanket gets too hot
The feeling inside
You just want to get out
Bruised emotions
Shaky vibrations
Eyes are leaking
So intrusive
Don’t worry
I won’t judge
Just let me know
What will make you budge
Speaking from the heart
A reall soul seeker
Let me be your healer
Some things just digg  deeper .
 Oct 2018 Shrishty
Dinodust
I’m tired

Mentally

Emotionally

Physically

I’m tired of over thinking

I’m tired

I’m tired of it all

I’m tired of her

I’m tired of him

I’m tired of this feeling

Deep inside my chest

That makes me want to rip everything out

Tear me to shreads

But I can’t do that

I can’t have another 11 a.m. kitchen sink surgery

I’m tired of crying

Tired of feeling guilty

Tired of feeling unloved

Tired of forcing myself to eat

Tired of shaking

Tired of feeling empty

Tired of being numb

I’m tired.

I’m tired of always sleeping

I’m tired of forcing myself to do things

I’m tired of wanting to be liked

I’m tired of hating my body

I’m tired

I’m tired
 Aug 2018 Shrishty
Laura
Three Words
 Aug 2018 Shrishty
Laura
If three words
Could make a poem
I'd have one written already
I love you
Is all I need to say
How much more
Can I say
When I love you
Is the only thing
Running through my mind
I love you
Is all I want to say
Over and over
Again and again
And I want you
To comprehend it
To listen
Every time I say it
I love you
Missing
you
feels
like
breathing
underwater.

Tonight
I’m
sleeping
at
the
bottom
of
the
ocean.
Anything can
look like a poem
and sound philosophical
simply by moving
the words on
different lines.

Am I doing it right?
Is this
really
talent?
Art?
Effort?

I think I am trying.
Really, I am
I go back and change the order
and I break lines
where it sounds right
But it does not take me long.
Not at all.

I try to be
intentional
and call it natural rhythm.
Instinct and style taking over
I alternate between
agonizing every detail
like When to Capitalize
and publishing free form poems without looking over them twice.

How is writing supposed to feel?
Should I labor?
or should it flow?
Or do I get to decide?

I think the things I talk of
mean something
at least.

But am I just
pretentious?

fooling myself into thinking that
using common poetry formats
somehow makes my work worthwhile?
Problems only We True Artists face.
 Aug 2018 Shrishty
Jayantee Khare

O
dear hater!
do u matter?
of course not!
but thanks a lot
for letting me know that
people have right to reject
i am still not perfect,
and for equipping
my mind with neutrality!
my heart with equanimity!
my soul with magnanimity!
my life with acceptability!
for the black and the white
the wrong and the right
oh i think you matter
love you my hater!
yes you matter!


Sunday musings
 Aug 2018 Shrishty
Iska
Ace
 Aug 2018 Shrishty
Iska
Ace
Every day the cards were played
Everyday you lost
I won.
Every day you’d come back
With declarations of future success,
And when proved false you’d smile,
All lopsided and sheepish,
With a “next time perhaps”
And now your gone.
And next time won’t come.
I guess I won after all.
You always said
I was a queen of diamonds
But my dear,
You were the Ace of hearts.
To Everett
If there is a place after this life,
I expect to see that lopsided grin
From across the table
May we play cards again
who knows?
I may even let you win...
(Or not)
:’(
I follow my depression like a ghost
Chained to it
Dragged around
Like a dog with a noose
Around my neck
I can only go so far
Resist so much
Before it jolts me back
Break the rope?
Pulling away
It pulls me back
Hard and fast
Cuts off my air
The skin around my neck
Newton’s third law
Equal and opposite
Nothing moves
Controlling the boundaries
The radius of me.
Any advice is appreciated
 Aug 2018 Shrishty
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
Next page