Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Hex May 2021
Slipping free from yester's time,
A Feather trapses yond the way,
On wind it floats, a step, sublime,
Dipping and ducking flakes of grey,
Those forged by winter, the sun's decay,
Plates of ivory, why must they hack?
Torn soil, a relic of why you turn away,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.

O Sea, so fair, shimmering as a chime,
As the wind you switch, and you sway,
And your blues shine like a dime,
But if he drifts beyond the bay,
Will waters claim him, as they say?
Or shall he wash back, with the wrack?
To you, O Sea, he mustn't stray,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.

O Mount, your peak, the rigorous climb,
At your summit, scores kneel and pray,
Your caps glow white, with a grass bed of lime,
If you were where the feather must stay,
Shall your perils bring him fray?
Must he lie in caves of black?
Nay, a feather must fly, and outward he must splay,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.

O Feather, O Feather, where will you spend your days?
Here I must halt on the trail of your track,
Seize the wind, O Feather, the world is your prey,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.
A tale of independence.
if our lives could reshape  
i would choose to fight than crawl
heroes don't need a cape
however some days i feel small
wearing armor as a shawl
thinking he will never know
anticipating to fall
where rivers never flow

you can't make a bandage with tape
heavy emotions might stall
comparing a scar to a scrape
burdens will be there to haul
pack lightly if you bring back all
what you can't manage you'll owe
seeking more comfort and less mal
where rivers never flow

endlessly longing to escape
my writing becomes a scrawl
yearning for a new landscape
ignoring your late night call
feeling like a strung out puppet doll
our love could never grow
through a UV lit concrete hall
where rivers never flow

wicked storms begin to sprawl
shady groves and forest below
searching for a waterfall
where rivers never flow
Sarah Crisp Jan 2019
So, after all is said and done
I take some time to sit and breathe
A moment's silence so hard won
To unload stress and retake ease-
People are so hard to please
They ask one thing and want another-
The stillness shivers like a breeze
And nurses what the crowds had smothered
An experiment in ballade style. Subject: myself, an introvert, after a long day of work in entertainment and customer service.
Lewis Hyden Nov 2018
Over on the crescent wing
The bitter gales bring waves of rain:
Listen. Frozen windows sing.
Enraptured by the searing pain
Like pestilence in hurricane.
Buildings rise up to the halls
Impenetrable planet-bane
As summer lost, and spring withal.

Then the writhing storm-clouds bring
A storm of ice and wind again:
The sun rears up, but sets during.
And past the steel-laden plane
Silver orbs first wax, then wane
Then plaster to the mighty wall
Midnight buses, lane-by-lane,
Of nature not, but city fool.

Ascended like a spiteful King
The whispers rise, then sink in shame
No sound is here, no, not a thing.
Soaking in like liquor-stains
The buildings survey their domain
Not city-life, nor life at all;
They wander in the pouring rain
Where love is lost beneath the sprawl.

Tears and laughter, much the same
All are whispers, doomed to fall.
Dystopia without a name:
Not so distant after all.
A poem about the modern age.
#9 in the Distant Dystopia anthology.

© Lewis Hyden, 2018
calvin schafer May 2018
The toddler walks with no grace,
back and forth as he does his waddle.
Sticky somethings upon his face,
happily drinking his bottle.
Once so small wrapped in his swaddle,
looks like mom I can see it clearly,
cute little boy looks like a model.
The one I love so dearly.

The toddler points at his chair,
he knows I understand his need.
I pick him up and put him there,
he knows its time to feed.
I try to help but let him lead,
getting it in his mouth well nearly.
I cant believe this is my seed
the one I love so dearly.

The toddler starts to rub his eyes,
l can almost open my wine.
I sing him gentle lullabies,
I'm thankful that he is mine.
Like an angel he'll always shine,
it is so sad he will grow yearly.
With each step I'll make sure he is fine,
the one I love so dearly.

When he grows up I'll miss the hugs,
I wont wake up so cheerly.
I'll miss him being scared of bugs,
the one I love so dearly.
jack of spades Sep 2017
Find sanctuaries under other people’s rib cages.
Count all their heartbeats, each exhale,
Wipe down dusty lungs and old notebook pages.
Bite down on bones and fingernails.
Whisper to yourself, “I will prevail.”
Peek out from behind the diaphragm and skin.
The world is foggy through this veil;
This is how familiarity begins.

Old highways only lead you to stages,
ravine edges and steep drops with no rail,
where wanderers have pilgrimed for ages.
You hesitate to fly; you fear you will fail,
unable to follow wanderlust’s trail.
You’re weighed down by all your past sins
and the mountains you turn to scale.
This is how familiarity begins.

In someone else’s heart, a hurricane rages,
sleet and thunder and head-sized hail.
Memory lane’s speed limit has no gauges.
The mountain drops angry avalanches of shale,
So close your eyes and determine to prevail.
There’s no way to count your wins;
The sun is rising and the sky turns pale.
This is how familiarity begins.

Curious, how feelings are so frail
under mountains and ribs, the outs and ins.
Veins and dirt roads trace the trail:
You’ll start to see how familiarity begins.
written for a summer class
Bailey Apr 2016
So many tragedies surrounding me
I, in the middle of it all
I know I'm thinking selfishly
In my little bubble of pity
Crying every single night
While praying everyone be happy
Wishing things were still alright

I saw something that shouldn't be seen
Which provokes my messy scrawl
The heartbreak of my family
The pain of my sibling
I long to help out with the fight
But I'm stuck in this city
Wishing things were still alright

I'm flitting in between
Climbing and hitting a wall
Do I shake and cry and make a scene?
Do I stand up strong and keep it clean?
After seeing this sight
Do I strive to be happy or keep
Wishing things were still alright
?

Maybe I should go to sleep
Stop scrounging for a bit of light
But I know even then I'll be
Wishing things were still alright.
first ballade (not ballad)
Should you attempt to ease my pain,
take warning, mine's a toxic brew,
with any spillage sure to stain
and burn its noxious way down through
those armored plates protecting you,
concealing that soft heart beneath,
a treat this beast would slowly chew...
the hopes left stuck between sharp teeth.

My dark mind's torn and hardly sane,
left barren since her love withdrew,
and charities would but profane
those memories I hold askew,
those cloudy thoughts of love so true,
those daggers hid in yearning's sheath
that slice when others misconstrue...
the hopes left stuck between sharp teeth.

Go hang from your ****** sugarchain
of coaxes meant to help renew.
There are no passions to regain.
There's nothing left here to imbue.
My shattered rose rejects your glue.
It's not a blossom for your wreath.
So, toss your thoughts of breaking through...
the hope's left stuck between sharp teeth.

And, of a doubt remains as to
the character that's underneath,
then tease my shell and watch me spew
the hopes left stuck between sharp teeth.
Hello, thank you for reading.
Next page