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My mind is a dark place I can't navigate,
Last night my bad dreams took over me.
Everyday gets harder and harder,
I'm trying but no one can see.

I just want to try and heal,
But I'm struggling to find a home.
I want to be okay,
I don't want to be alone.

I know we all have our broken pieces,
Mine are getting harder to hold after long.
The pieces cut be beneath the skin,
I was a fool to think I could be strong.
a memory dangling; a heart wrenching,
thy body has a lot to offer though,
far beneath the widespread sea- thou breaking,
I do shall return; my head bowing low
Poetic T Oct 2020
She was silent a mute, or so they thought.
            Butterflies would frequent her abode.
Dancing around a kaleidoscope of words fluttering
around her, she was like a lantern in the dark
           and they seemed to be drawn to her.

But where colour was imbued above,
below in unseen hollow spaces,
                    there were remnant glimmers.
Fragmentation's of what was but deathly hues
enveloped in the frigid cadaverous silence.

There was no flying from where they'd fell,
                like autumn's leaves falling off the
tree of life now they were obscurity.


No one knew that she was able to talk,
          but she was an empath,
   collecting the negativity of those
                                           around her.

Everyone thought she was in a mood.
                   She'd just look at them with sad eyes.
But she played it cool to everyone around her.

They're all happy but she whispered all
             the woes of every word expelled,
she tried to play it cool..

But when she told the butterflies what she knew they
            feel frigid, cold.
   They wanted her company, but they hid under her
               bed hiding the depression that fractured

there every movement.


She always tried to show positivity,
     but the shards cut her feet underneath her
                              bed.

But above was rainbows where beneath the
                  fragmentation of emotions screamed.
annh Aug 2020
Brims curving gently
Beneath the glimmering sun
Bonnets in full bloom.

Period drama bingefest seems to be rubbing off. :)

‘Nothing could have appealed more strongly to Miss Wantage's youthful taste, so as soon as she had changed the chip-straw hat for an Angouleme bonnet of white thread-net trimmed with lace, she sallied forth once more with Mr. Ringwood, tripping beside him with all the assurance of one who knew herself to be dressed in the pink of fashion.’
- Georgette Heyer, Friday’s Child
Poetic T Aug 2020
Ill never write with the constructs
of ink no matter its shading,
                as it has no edges, no fear or freedom.

Instead I use a scalpel to cut clean words
even though not evidentially visible
             all cuts have meaning.


But ever metaphorical stain takes
         time to show its meaning..


You may not see what I mean
         i write in a different manner to


                                    you.
            

But let time show the interpretation
                     that was there but never understood


till you looked beneath the incise significance
               even if not seen now,

                         just realise its there...
Colm Aug 2020
I used to run across the Moherian cliffs
And jump to catch the first sunlight nether wisps
As they twinkled like dawning fireflies shone
In the jar of a hopeful wish
For as just as in your hand there mine own exists
Con·tent·edly
https://youtu.be/W1PoiyRFrUI
Andrew Layman Jul 2020
It comes in deep waves
first the warmth,
then the chill;
the salty taste that overpowers,
and the foam that seeks to fill.

Above beckons the alternating current
a body becomes stretched
only to sink,
and rise no more beneath the surface;
past the seaweed
among the fiery reef,
beware,
there lurks the end of still life.

Soon when muscles ache
when there is no fight left
with such heavy limbs that struggle;
heed my tepid words
when the dark clouds form,
it's much better to sink low,
and embrace the undertow.
Poetic T Jul 2020
For the well was deep,
      and the water
            endless.

     But I broke on the surface,
Never sinking beneath
The fractured
reflection of the abyss..
Poetic T May 2020
I felt like the titanic,
  we're perfectly sailing along
       on our sea of dreams..

But I never looked below
            the surface.
We were about to crash
              upon the other..

Cutting me beneath
                 the surface.
Not immediately visible.

But you slowly sank me,
       my life boats of emotion
empty as I had nothing left..
.
my heart serenaded as it sank
    beneath the waves..
And all that was left.

The wreckage of my dreams,
        As I sank beneath the
surface.. I'm never sailing free...
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