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Meekness breeds oppression
There's a hold on my progression
The breakable binding will have me stay
So a poem a day keeps the squalor away
Jeremy Betts Sep 2024
A wrong way trend setter
In my own personal time line
Can't say I didn't know better
Each decision was mostly mine
Goals for someone not a go getter
Become the shackles that bind
Having to eat my words for dinner
I fear sitting down to dine

©2024
Maria Etre Sep 2021
"What happened along the way?"
as she looked back to see
her lines crooked, her ink melted
and her pages torn apart
from the book that held her
together
Dante Rocío Sep 2020
It is sharpening crimson steel in a knife as of that, with it fingers softly bleed like care and rise as a shuttered peach in
a sturdy piece of scarlet, paid in heed.

Your foreboding onthou my skin is no more truly nor less rigid unplugging of violin strings out of a guttural chords into a straight morbid fire, and a pain structure
hardens, straightens,
embeds them forever into every light’s riddance, this trial mended.
Welcomed fireflies in a
solstice. bonfire. forest. [stygian].

Love, my dearest Love, if your ever evanescent body or voice even exists:
if I ever dare to greet in my tears music it only may be to bleed with you in one common fluid, to have my ribs torn gently by
each your promise barely for my hand’s taking,
endure time to have my truer form by you,
a sensation, clad in lilac velvet that goes
under the name of “Paper Airplane” by
my thoughts.

To keep.
Us.
Intact.
More than as rain we always are.

A child picked up a solitary chalk and sketching protruded some things by that hand & sight, some sun with injustice drawn, that elders’ words and acts
have not put up.

Some of the chalk simply lays everyday crushed.
Foundance.
With no human passage, luggage.
No matter how hard I’ll come to cry
Never shall I reject my waters.
My Love, you who kiss me further and further
Without lips or anything to align,
I wish for you to never earn a step or body,
And to marry my sand-sea plaited follies.
Be veritable Garden Song.
Strung Jun 2020
Orange flowers
Catching all the hills on fire
Just to see them burn, I take a breath.
Smoke and dust bind my righteous life underneath my eyelids.
Blindness.
Devin Lawrence Dec 2019
I write my words in cursive so they know how to.
The lines that bind us together can seem so thin,
like a dash of ink, it can be wiped away.

An island only knows water for the way it extends beyond the horizon.
The peaceful splashes of rippling waves can’t pacify the feeling of loneliness;
a passing bird squawks as it carries on its journey.
And the sun keeps rising day after day.

Have you ever felt the jolt of holding someone’s hand?
The spark of life that is embracing them in a hug?
We were made to connect,
yet so many of us sit aside
unplugged.

The singer on the stage begs us to sing along;
and for a moment, every stranger is bound by word and sound.
That post-concert depression hits hardest during that long drive home -
riding solo.

I write my words in cursive so that they know how to.
Because if they do, maybe you will too.
H A Vitatoe Jun 2019
The picture
that you drew
You said
give to him
I kept it
I'm the one
who seeked you
Not him
Binding us
Forever
My friend
From The Collection "A Work Of Art"
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