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Mel Little Nov 2015
I never expected to fall back in.
I suppose jumping is the real word, because I've always been a headfirst without thinking kind of girl.
I've always called it fearless, the words forever tattooed into my ribs, scar tissue raising so that his hands graze it when they touch me,
But oh dear God am I terrified as I make room for my things in his closet
Take a breath and store my makeup under his sink.
This is the first time in forever I can say that I wish I wasn't jumping headfirst.
I am frightened I am falling, forever the fearless female
Now a pile of lovesick mess on the living room floor I share.
DSD Nov 2015
At twilight
I walk down the path through the woods
Carpeted in autumn's nocturnal harvest.
The guiding porch light,
Feebler than the fluttering fire flies, fades.
Smell of fresh decay seduces my will.
Desires that have forever resided in the unattainable future
Now like long parted friends sit around with welcoming smiles.
Curious to commingle with Contentment
I feel the Autumn seep into the woods,
And the woods into my heart.

Never before,  
A weary traveller lost upon
The tortuous timber trail
Felt more at peace.
Wishing to curl up in the cold warmth of the golden fleece.  
The woods will the wind to wrap him in wool of the willow
and tuck him amongst the exposed roots.

An unmarked clock ticks somewhere.
Here the eternal present prevails,
Concealed from the eye of the arrow ,
In the stretch of this malleable moment.
I, in the knowledge that my estranged self
Rests in me, am whole again.
At twilight.
Koggeki Nov 2015
Withering willows wave in the night.
Neko nearly snarled at my sight.
Sneaky sister sitting on the floor.
Fearsome fellow fiends rap on the door.

Midnight moon marvels at this lay.
Leering lovely loonies come to play.
Parting parties parade o'er the hill.
Happy Halloween heap-up your fill.
Paul Butters Oct 2015
Wondrous whirling worlds of words
Wander away.
Smooth musical tunes from the Muses melt my mind
And make my heart go boom.

Sunny sylvan scenes ****** my soul.
In a simmering silence
Broken only
By birdsong.

It starts with simple wordplay,
Toying with those letters
Until some magic kicks in.

Visions of versified viewscapes
Mess with my head.
Eureka moments marching across the mountains
Of my brain like screaming Banshees.

So thus a poem is born
From seemingly idle play.
Those words are worked again
And posted here
To brighten the reader’s day.

Paul Butters
I lay in bed and think......... (New 2nd stanza added 21\10\2017).
Matt Berkes Oct 2015
There are secrets
In her stares.
Or am I just seeing things?
Her smiles stream
Like sunlight
And she speaks
In songs
That spin circles
In my head.
I can't stop thinking
That when anyone
Sees those eyes,
We're all reduced to
Single streams of light
Streaking through
Steep shadows
Cast in her mystery,
Suitors left swooning
Over stolen second glances.
We're stargazers.
Sublunary spectators.
Secret seekers.
Mel Little Oct 2015
No one could ever know just how I'm falling apart,
Slowly sinking, swiftly sinning
Dug myself a new hole today, six feet under doesn't seem so deep after consideration
If I hold myself together with duct tape and glue, another boy's arms, another goodnight kiss from another stranger
Does that make me stronger or just stupid?
Whatever's waiting for me,
that **** better hurry up
I'll be too far gone
For even fate
to find
me
Shyanna Ashcraft Sep 2015
It creeps along,
Slinking in the shadows,
Watching, waiting,
Wanting for you to pause,
To hesitate in your movement,
Smirking to itself in a sly way,
Grinning at the goose bumps,
The chills that chase you
Chanting your name,
As it chisels its way
Into your mind,
Catching you as you stumble
On the corner of a slanting stone,
It takes hold of you as
Your wary will makes way;
Your resolve risks crumbling;
Your heart pounds,
Pounding.
Pounding at your mind,
Until you can't help
But to give in again,
Like you have so many times before.
It has you in its clutches,
Grasps so tight to its prey,
Pray for a good outcome,
Or an escape,
A reprieve,
But it has its hold,
It has your bold
Soul screaming out in fear,
You are ensnared.
09-29-15

I wrote this On a random urge, and as I wrote the words brought both depression and love to my mind and it brought me to see that although polar opposites, they have so much in common.
Manic Brilliance Sep 2015
Ladies and gentlemen,
    

      Boys and girls.
    

      The story I bring is one to tell,
    

      With Dragons and beast from far away lands,
    

      Witches and wombats and beast from the sands.
    

      Golums and ghost, great goblins gone gruesome!
    

      Mighty warlords that would survive if you nuked em!
    

      Werewolves so powerful that they consume the night!
    

      Don't worry, no vampires to ruin the plight!
    

      Bombardments of beast, broken skulls, bad burdens.
    

      A tantalizing tail if ever you've heard one!
    

      Zombies so evil, your skin crawls with every word.
    

      I'm not lying when I say that the fear is obsurd!
    

      But before I give you this recital,
    

      I ask and I beg, I need a **** title!!
One of my first poems ever written!
It was a simply soothing sound.
Seemingly surreal, severing the silence
With even sin surrendering to the sublime symphony
Of sirens signifying salvation.
Leaving legs lying limp and lifeless,
Losing a life I'd have liked to live.
Leaping, laughing, or lounging lazily
I fear for my future
Forever fighting ferociously.
Because four fearsome phantoms
Brought bars, blades, and bats
To beat my bewildered brother and I blind
Before we both blacked out from blood loss.
Now there's a knife notched in the nape of his neck.
He'll never know the nuance of another night;
But now I know the necessity of the nightmarish noose
old poem
Paul Butters Sep 2015
Don’t ask me to pass the assonance assessment
Or time my rhyming to make you smile.
Alliterative pieces I’m proud to produce
After pondering, my pretty person.

No I’d rather be free
When I write poetree (lol).
Must write with meaning,
So don’t be demeaning,
Even if you are screaming.

Existence, God, Love, People –
They’re what I write about.
Oft without form.
Just enjoy.

Gorgeous gold glory starts the story
That ends with a tune under the moon…

Paul Butters

© PB 20\9\2015.
Yet another early-morning poem born from working words in my head.
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