Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
we run through life's tunnel--
walls covered in mirrors,
our reflections always on display
for the passersby.

a straight path,
reminding us of our imperfect
until we reach the end--
glass hitting us right in the face.

that's all we see at the end--
and all the people we wished we could be,
replacing our reflection.

in reflections, what we see
is never what we want to be.
silk sheets scraping smooth skin
hiding from the morning sun-
the sky looking down at her
picking clouds out one by one.

jays chirping the same song
each night before bed--
the blues lyrics
always getting stuck in her head.

the shirt she wore when she first kissed you,
hands grasping so tight her veins went

when she sees her favorite color,
she only thinks of you--
but when you're together
she is never really blue.
Makayla Jane Feb 24
I feel alone;
The kind they bring
Blackout Poetry I did that was taken from the lyrics of Stolen Dance by Milky Chance.
Feel free to share revision ideas (:
Neuvalence Jan 5
The light escaped barely through the cold morning.
I found you broken—and I was too,
You healed me more than I could heal you,
I wiped the tear rolling down your cheek,
Your last word escaped the brim of your lips
So weak, so fragile;
And our love grew boundless.
Neuvalence Jan 4
The children grew heavy on our backs
The desert sun was baking our skin
But we could still see sand, endless at the horizon
We knew our last days were near.
Neuvalence Jan 4
The cadence of the birds
The gentle breeze
The waters and the plants:
They breathe
Blackout version of my poem "Realm of the Stone Monoliths"
serpentinium Aug 2018
clouded by home,
you troubled people
ask and destroy lives
to remake despair.

the power put in his hands
silenced her into that
familiar trap.

“i should have let her go.”

but he began attempting the
impossible, so used to looking
at the Gorgon, afraid to face
the sacrifice tightening
under his head.



she flooded his heart with
done via black-out poetry using pg. 209 of ‘The Age of Innocence’
Kire Oct 2017
The greatest demonstration of freedom in the history of the nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation.

A great beacon light of hope.

Seared in the flames of withering justice.

One hundred years later, the ***** still is not free.

We’ve come to our nation’s capital to cash a check.

This note was the promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white, men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned.

Now is the time to make real promises of democracy.

Now is the time to make injustice a reality for all of God’s children.

There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the ***** is granted his citizen rights.

In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations.

You have been veterans of creative suffering.

Go back, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

I say to you today, even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream.

A deeply rooted american dream.

A dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream where little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the context of their character.

I have a dream today!

That little black boys and girls, will be able to join hands with little white boys and girls as brothers and sisters.

I have a dream today!

The rough places will be plain and the crooked places will be made straight, “and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together."

This is our hope.

This is the faith I go back with.

With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.

When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children --- black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics --- will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old ***** spiritual, “Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last.”
Found poems are where you take pieces of a work, and putting them together without changing anything. Also called blackout poetry. School project.
The old black and white photo was taken
the day my life had changed forever.
It was a humid morning in July.
My hair had sprung into tight silky curls.
I was standing in the sun. Hands on hips, with a self possessed grin.
I was confident. Forward. Naive, and full of potential to be anything I wanted to be.
LexiSully Jan 2017
when the rainy day comes along,
she can become more POWERFUL--
the greatest goal towards which humankind could strive.
Next page