Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Punters only buy into words
if they believe there’s worth.
I’ve been begging for buyers
before premature birthdays.
Let earth spin unaware –
never questioned its axis.
Hid from the anxious parties,
continued chewing table cloths,
then choked on the spike of a train stub.

Not much value in a decade thrice lived –
standing on the coast in yesterday’s underwear,
a teenage busker sits between hip-hop legacy
as new marble faces arrive in constant rotation.
I’m waiting for my estranged brother dance,
who ran out on me despite his free diary entries.
Desperate for reunion. Bitter for the jives lost.

I’ve stepped further than I ever pictured
but I’ll never walk away from the stalking wolves.
Cubs are warned but continue to ignore all advice.
Lions that scrap with the pack tell me to enjoy the plains.
So I forget the bites and burn this poem in my future face.
Poem #24 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad'. Coming to terms with getting older.
Claudius Apr 14
My Kryptonite,

A month has never before felt like a year.
30 days of breakdowns and sanitizing my tears
A month alone-
Quarantined from everything but my thoughts of you

Just one day is what I crave
24 hours of bliss that bring me back from the disassociation of the everyday
I know I shouldn't risk life for a day with you
Yet the temptation grows as fast as COVID does

Tell me it's wrong
That I should keep us both safe
Remind me of the cost even if it hurts me to hear
Remind me that 30 days is nothing compared to a life without you.

Day 30 and I want to risk it all.
For the person I didn't realize I had feelings for until I was lockdown away from them and all I want to do is be there with them and scream how much I want to be with them.
In another life
we'd have been pinky-sworn to
some ******* promise
Chelsea Rae Jun 2019
Why am I two different people
Inside my head
And who I really am?

Or is who I really am
Just all inside my head?

Maybe I don't know who I am
At all
And maybe I never did.
I feel like I'm never consistent. Why am I brave one day and terrified the next? Why am I even me? Who even is me? Is us?
I heard you laugh
And I wish I was a part of it
A poem every day.
Spicy Digits Dec 2018
I get excited by naps
giddy after one wine
make-up itches my face
always wake up after nine
one tea on the hour
one bath every week
two bags under the eyes
two once-perky cheeks
gardening is my ******
libraries, my *******
silence is my saucy lover
- noise equals pain
my hair is lush, healthy
because I wash it rarely
my legs are nice and smooth
because I let them grow hairy

But, on the count of 30

I am more resilient than before
I have a bessa-block mind
mixed with a molten-gold heart
of softness and wisdom, refined.
Chicken Scratch,
chicken scratch,

   Scribbles, smashed against the page.

You are my Poem.

~Robert van Lingen
Phi Kenzie Sep 2018
Rachel Ray was amazing
to the tot that watched
while grandparents talked
to the parent that brought me along

Sat hands in lap
on the living room floor
slowly arching back as each meal passed

We never made any recipe
though I'd thought a lot about it
and often wanted to
Traversing my minefields,
   Is an impossible task,
Find another way around,
   So that you don't get hurt,
Because that would be sad.
  
I don't want to make you sad.
Was part of I Am Not but i decided  to split them into two independent pieces.
The seance,
Between my heart and mind,
Serves to intertwine,
My thoughts I might find,
Buried in my heart,
The kinds that tear me from my feet,
Up till the moments I've died.

Every unwaking second,
Is a moment I find,
That my heart and mind,
Can be...

Alone.

~Robert van Lingen
Next page