Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nicole Sep 2019
If you were my bed
Id never want to leave

If you were my favorite book
Id read you all over again

But you're not


You were that bed sheet i should've replaced

You were that book  i should've just stuck at the corner of my shelf


And until this fragile heart
Hurts no more
And until the last allegory id think of you
I will always compare you
To every piece and every word
Because darling
I love you
Even if it hurts
Nicole Sep 2019
you are every allegory
in my catastrophe
Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
awake now!
Recite!
Write it down, letter by letter
the house of Holy is being built
brick by brick, letter by letter, gem by gem

my Spirit approached me by night
with a vision of gladness
a triumphant tiding
born on a warm and powerful wind in the dead of winter

Say, “It is finished”
Say, “The city has fallen!”
Say, “Come away with me, my love. Come away, and taste not of her poison delicacies”

as in a dream, I watched
while a mad-woman
a maenad
ran through every street and back alley
a lunatic
possessed by the moonlight
holding in her left hand
a magic wand that she had retrieved
from a children’s magic kit
a plastic wand

and everywhere she ran
she swung her wand
pointing at each and every thing
and shouting

HOLY! HOLY! HOLY! HOLY!
Holy, the cobblestones of the street! Shining in the moonlight!
Swinging her wand and pointing up
HOLY the dark clouds which move to block the moonlight
and move away again to reveal!

Swinging and shrieking and crying
HOLY! HOLY!
Pointing the wand at the gawking passerby
who stopped to stare, clutching their children tightly to guard them from her madness
HOLY the skeptics, the blind, and the deaf! For they shall see! They shall hear!
Holy your children, whom you shall not keep from me!
They will follow me through the streets, singing and dancing to my merry tunes!

Holy the children, for they believe in magic wands of plastic
Holy the plastic, no less than the gold with which you adorn your temples!

Holy the darkness, which falls over your land!
And with those words
the Lady flung her arm
pointing her wand at the moon itself
which turned red-black
like congealed blood over a wound
and darkness fell over the cobblestones in the streets

and panic fell in the hearts of the passerby
because the light was gone
and screaming terrified, they tried to drag their children with them back inside their homes
where the cold hum of electricity kept the incandescent status quo glowing from the ceilings

but the children would have none of it
the Lady had begun to dance under the darkened moon
through the black streets
singing a merry tune (holy holy holy)
and the children each broke free from the terrified death-grips of their parents
and danced behind Her
into the streets
Diána Bósa Jul 2019
Afterlife.
Naked, true.
We are reborn
By disrobing the disguise.
Unmasked.
The fact of the matter is I'm lost. The dense infinite sea has all the power over me. I go where the wind takes me. There is life all around me, yet I'm all alone. I had people back home, but all of them stayed as I set sail into the mist. I'm cold. The only comfort I have is, that I will inevetably come across some sort of land, somewhere I can take refuge, somewhere I feel safe and warm. Warmth. It's all I need right now.
I write to let my mind express itself and to keep my sanity. Of which I have not a lot left. Had I any to begin with? Why must I suffer. Why must anyone? I don't know if suffering together with someone would ease the pain, or would it simply multiply it. Only time will tell. I hope, I think.
Not knowing is manditory.
That is all I have left.
Soon i might know.
If only because of some miracle, the promiseland finds me.
The bottle, the one I set out into the emptiness, hoping it will find the one I sent it to, and return her to me.
I might never know. Know that feeling.
I might never feel again. Im starting to lose it.
I never learned how to sail.
Thought it comes naturally. I could, but it is keeping me from it. This. This one, that is both a blessing and a curse. The one, who promised me the confession will reach it's goal. How will it know the goal, when even I don't? Empty promises. Just like they promised to help me.
What did I expect
The start of an 11 poem journey about unrequited love, solitude and finding myself
Cha Jun 2019
Eli lived alone

In a normal neighborhood.

She dressed up for work

Like any person would.


She fixed her hair,

Put on her clothes,

And her door

She closed.


She went to work,

Then she came back.

She got to her door,

And almost had an anxiety attack.


Her door was unlocked.

She stopped mid-thought

She slammed open the door,

And was distraught.


Her furniture.

Her clothes.

Her food and drink.

All of it was gone.

Eli could barely think.


She checked her phone

Quickly scrolling through her apps,

Finally finding the one

That controlled all her traps.


She opened it quickly

And rewound the tape

And while watching it

What had happened started to take shape.


A robber had flown through her house

Using false wings

Went in and out quickly

And taken all of her things


Her food,

Her drink,

Her kitchen sink,

Her shoes,

Her clothes,

Her old photos.


Everything was missing.

Nothing could be replaced.

Eli just sat in the middle of the room,

With anguish on her face.


Eli thought about what had happened.

“It will never be the same

There’s nothing I can do and

What I have lost, I can never regain.”


“And because

That is true

There is nothing

That I can do.”


She went to her father,

Feeling like a disgrace.

And told him what happened,

As he watched her with a straight face.


He looked at her angrily and said,

“You left the door open,

So, it's all your fault.

The person who robbed you

did nothing wrong.”


She stared at him in disbelief

“But-,” She started.


“Say no more.  

There will be no debate.

You did wrong,  

so, you must accept your fate.”


She opened her mouth to respond,

But quickly closed it.

This was her father,

So, she had to submit.


Eli thought about what happened

As her father threw a fit

“It’s my fault that it happened and

I deserved it.”


“And because

That is true

There is nothing

That I will do.”


Her father sent her off,

With a satisfied smirk.

He was very glad

That his talk had worked.


Eli went on with life,

But it was never the same.

She roamed a barren wasteland,

Not a thing to her name.


As she was sitting at a corner,

She saw the robber roaming around town.

But, remembering what her father had said,

Did nothing but look on with a frown.


The robber glanced around quickly,

Then nodded his head.

He ran to the door of a house,

And Eli’s stomach filled with dread.


Eli quickly thought about what had happened.

It can never be the same for me,

But everyone else

Should be carefree.


“And because

That is true

There is something

That I should do.”


Eli pointed to the robber

And yelled as loud as she could

“This person is up to no good!”


Everyone around her

Turned to look.

At the person at the door

Who acted like a crook.


Before she was going to speak

Her mind became like frost.

The words of her father started to creep:


“You left the door open,

So, it's all your fault.

The person who robbed you

did nothing wrong.”


She shook her head.

Her father had lied.

It was him who was unjustified.


She spoke out,

Loud and clear,

“This person has done terrible things

And he is someone that we should fear.”


“Don’t listen to her!”

The robber squawked.

“What I’m doing isn't wrong-

Their door is unlocked!”


“If your door is unlocked,

Then you are just asking to be robbed.

I’m not doing anything wrong!”

The robber sobbed.


“What do you mean

‘Nothing wrong?’

What you are doing is evil,”

Eli said while others nodded along.


“You took all my things

That I can never replace

Now, I’m stuck out here

In this wretched place.”


“You should have kept your door locked”

The robber responded.

Eli rolled her eyes

But the motion was unseconded.


Others in the crowd started to agree

And started chanting.

Some screamed their opinions

And others started ranting.


They argued and argued

All through the day

And all the while

The robber slipped away.


“This fighting does nothing,”

Eli said with sadness.

Then the crowd hushed

And gone was the madness.


Eli thought about what happened.

It will never be the same for me,

But everyone else

Deserves to be carefree.


“And because

That is true

There is still something,

That I must do.”


Eli gathered the crowd

And they traveled together.

To the police station

Like birds of a feather.


She told the police

What had occurred.

She gave them evidence,

And they were assured.


The police tracked the robber

And brought him to a cell,

Threw him in quickly

And in the robber fell.


And even though the robber was in jail.

And even though he couldn’t get bail.

And even though Eli got the justice she deserved.

And even though her dignity was preserved.


Eli sat and thought about what had happened.

“It could never be the same

All I can do, I have done, but

All that I have lost, I will never regain.”


She sobbed, “And even though

That is true

I guess I will just have

To try and make do.”




This was an allegory of ****** Assault.
Logan Robertson Mar 2019
Dare she lies
With a three inch putt
Tap in birdie
For sure
With a **** in her eyes
She looked askance
How can this be
It was a beautiful drive
Straight down the fairway
A pitch and a roll
Fortuitous is the bounce ...  swing
Now standing abreast on the green
Nonchalant
She takes the putter to bed
One under par

Logan Robertson

3/30/2019
Oh my!
IV. Isaiah

If ever on the moors in seeking
Zarephath she faltered—
White of gossamer and lamb—

And the well in running over
Colored bloodred clay
Lapis Lazuli, sweetened to dewpoint

As for what it meant
To those that saw and waited
Prophets and disciples of an
Instant; bear witness to the
World reborn (not premeditated)

At muddy dawn in unloved scrubland plots
Subsequent to love running sacred between
The pages of an unloved tome, a fissure

What is a truth?
Could I reach out
And touch you?

What holds your heart, Elijah?
Who can you see beneath the glass
Who stares back from the bottom of a raindrop
Flashing past before convening
With the ground?

Did you know, my dear,
I stem from the disillusionment of ground
And the resurrecting of fraught winter
Sky?
Did you know,
I am alive and dying to go, now,
To arise from Pelas and walk free in sun again?

I want to love the rain
So that it knows

I want to lavish love upon your
Lips, your hands,
Your neck that holds
Your temples, the gaps between
Your ribs, and vertebrae, and 50 billion stars
Part IV of IX
Sketcher Nov 2018
There once was a boy that felt kind of strange,
Everyone knew that this boy was deranged,
Out of his mind and that would never change,
All thoughts of success were far out of range,
But one day this boy felt a new feeling,
Something that felt like his mind was healing,
This was the first thing he found appealing,
This was love but sadly she was stealing,
The spirit that the boy couldn't get back,
He felt peace during her silent attack,
Felt stomach to stomach and chest to rack,
Then the ***** threw him out and stole a stack,
Now the boy was broke and left heartbroken,
Felt pain like never before and choking,
On tears from the heart, **** from the colon,
That is his life and that is his slogan,
He soothes the pain with drinking and smoking,
Passes the time by thinking and hoping,
That the ***** will drown in blood and soaking,
In memories of every dire moment,
She was gilded, thought she was pure golden,
Now I hope you know to never open,
Up to people because they're all just fake,
Treat you like a vampire and drive a stake,
Straight through your heart and your love they will take,
As they watch you sit in anguish and ache,
Don't fall in love if you don't want heartbreak.
Sorry for the negative message, but my poetry prompt was, "Negative Allegory" so this is what I made. Enjoy!
harlon rivers Nov 2018
Listening rain plashes
upon crystal spring waters
It hears the trailing distance
disguised in the silent gravity
chasing it down the sky;
refreshingly sprinkling
          stillness
where spotless fawns
drink from mirror pond
green and peacefulness

     A man falls from
a distance he knows by heart;
dropping like a wind broke tree ...
Breaking all the silence hidden
within the deepest places
          of his soul
Hitting the ground hard
to see if he still feels —
laying there broken
feeling the raindrops
     soothe the hurt

Certain when he’s able
     to get back up,
hearing a distant calling
to the fountains of his soul —
he may fall down again
     bearing the weight
     of broken dreams
     But he’s seen it all
for long enough to know:
he’s no candle in the wind

Awakening in an unfinished life,
coming back from the dead,
     still feeling each
     feral breath enough —
     to keep on trying
to chase down the wind ...


     harlon rivers                                                           ­                          .
November 4th, 2018

Rumi said:   'Whoever brought me here
                     Will have to take me home'
Next page