Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
TKO Jun 2016
Breaths fall short.
Thoughts crumble in defeat,
But the sensation of creation
Still aches to feel complete.
A chest has no treasure
Unless you have the key;
Tidings creatively delivered
By a verse of fantasy.
Inspiration billows within.
Without the words to convey,
My masterful poésie is still
Waiting for its wave.
Where lack of inspiration, becomes the inspiration.
sayona Jun 2016
why oh why,
does my ability only reveal itself when i'm choking on the truth(?) of the inability for someone to love me
why,
does the wall that constantly hinders me from expressing how i feel only tear down when i do the same to myself
why,
is forming and keeping words together only easy when i can't manage to keep my own self together?
why?
Michelle Garcia Jun 2016
Write it all down. The way you feel when you wake up on a rainy Saturday morning, the howling thunder of a summer storm, how your heart races like hurricane winds at the simple thought of tomorrow. Write about your best friend's laugh at three in the morning and how blissful it is to have found a hand that squeezes yours back. Write when you feel as if your soul is perched at the very top of a mountain, and when it sinks to the deepest part of your mind's treacherous oceans. Write when your heart is dancing like a ballerina spinning in a white tutu. Write when it is still. Quiet. Lost. Write when you've fallen in love, when you've lost at a cruel game, when you fall asleep wanting to erase every memory you've ever experienced, like the songs you cried to when you were thirteen and swore you were falling apart. Write it all down, the bright colors that melt into fond afternoons, the bittersweet tastes, the textures that scar, the aches and pains. Write when words can no longer express what exists inside of you. Do it anyway. That is what love is.
Charlie Chirico Jun 2016
I could not produce a perfect sentence,
so instead I killed my family.
Intricate webs woven,
and little seeds planted.
Words that will not touch a page
let loose a vindictive voice.
That's why your inner voice
finds words like onomatopoeia funny;
it's sharp.

As you project your frustration
into a headache, it passes along.
You try to remember if your family
history has been linked to cancer.

Yet some people will say:
Words Don't Hurt.
But they know.
Because they once
had families, too.
Michelle Garcia Jun 2016
what is left with the poet
after her words have been silenced?

nothing but the static hum of passing time
crawling past every wilted heartache,
every kiss left out in the summer rain
to rot inside stained pages that have forgotten
the blistering sensation of abandonment

no matter how hard she craves
for them to return home,
the door remains propped open
with a crumpled love letter
stained with sweat and addressed simply
to a name she has not heard
since the last time
she listened.
Emily Rene Jun 2016
The feeling of missing you
makes my head spin &
at times I feel queasy
because I used to be able
to write about my pain
& how I'm feeling on paper
or in a poem on this site
so easily as if it were writing
my name on the top of an
all nighter essay that was
due first thing the next morning,
but because of how much I miss you,

I've forgotten how to spell it
Braxton Reid May 2016
Ill save you for when I get back
Monsterous potential for now I lack
But maybe just a little scratch
Of this bug bite so I can relax

No, it only makes it worse
A hot spoon on my skin could take the curse
Or maybe if I rid the flesh as well as sin
Give it up for the mess I'm in

Like God, I give and take
To myself, this creative stake
But block these things that must align
So I can stay within the lines
Pixievic May 2016
My words have stopped
My pen is dry
I've so much to say
I try and try
To put down on paper
My thoughts and feelings
My brain is a puddle
Eyes turned up to the ceiling
Inspiration has left me
Turmoil instead
A black hole engulfs my
Poor battered head
Clutching at adverbs
They slip through my fingers
Searching for rhymes
Procrastination lingers
Abandoned and lost
Alone with the page
It stares blankly at me
No attempt to assuage
The assault of despair
Lurking within
I can think of one option
Open the gin .....!!

(C) Pixievic
Well we've all been here .....!!
Next page