Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Trinkets Apr 18
Used to walk through life
Nose stuck in a book,
only saw the world
in periphery of pages.

An artist of escape,
a dreamer in your youth.
Fleeing reality through stories
in all ages.

Looking up, growing up, into
something of your own.
Writing new worlds,
stuck exploring, dreams grown.
Like you did, now see
beauty in periphery.

An escape artist turned explorer.
Damian Murphy Apr 17
Never a better day shall there be!
My book has been published.... finally!
By Choice Publishing just so you know,
It's called "Out of My Head" by...Damo.

A "Somewhat Haphazard Collection
of Original Rhyming Verse".... on
Life, Motivation, Relationships,
Mental Health, Mindfulness and friendships.

There are Rhyming Verses, sonnets too,
Limericks, Acrostics, Senryu, Haiku....
My thoughts, ideas and reflections  
For each readers consideration.

I'm so happy my book is out there,
Hopefully you can find it somewhere
And should you choose my book to buy
I sincerely hope that you enjoy!

My thanks to all at Hello Poetry
For all the support you have given me.
It is very much appreciated....
Y'all helped to create "Out of My Head"
Mivel Mar 28
I am no good with words
staring at the ceiling
Finding the right words to
Describe the poem
that i've imagined
one hundred times
in my mind
Coffee in the yellow mug
that is later unfilled,
filled again
to fuel my nerves
Polaroid from the past
Scattered by the train
like a leaves
Too fast, i cannot grasp
Crossed out letters
Crumpled papers
Under my bed
Pendulum tirelessly
spinning
I am a newborn
A baby
Clueless in the world
A tabula rasa
A baby
Clueless in the world
But you,
you are filled with associations
Attached with threads
in any objects
that I laid my eyes on
The tip of your needle
follows me
wherever I go
Pinned me scornfully
on the shallowness
of my bed
Untill I bleed sentences of
how your eyes disappear
when you laugh
or touch your earlobe
when there's a storm
brewing in your mind
The pen is getting smaller
cold coffee
my back aches
paper after paper
The poem in my mind
that i've imagined
one hundred times
In the library,
museum in Manila,
in the grass field where
you pluck the string
of your guitar
while I sat there
and drew
every
form
of your being
One hundred times
in my mind
Remain hidden In
the shadow
Veiled from your gaze
Because I walk on the book
While you thrive on the ground
Would you read me?
I am no good with words
Jude Mar 12
She never really thought about age gaps before. Not in the way people usually did, where it was about romance or life stages. No, this was something different—something about understanding, about the way words landed between two people and how deep they could actually sink.

She had a conversation once, with someone much younger. She spoke, explained, even poured out her thoughts, but there was something missing in their response. Not disagreement, not even disinterest—just… a gap. A difference in depth.

At first, she couldn’t put her finger on it. They nodded, said the right things, even echoed back words that sounded wise. But it was like throwing a stone into shallow water—it made a splash, but it never sank the way it should have.

Then, she compared it to speaking with someone closer in age. A 25-year-old talking to a 29-year-old. The words flowed, deep and open, like an endless sea. There was no need to explain every little nuance, no frustration of trying to be understood beyond the surface. It was just there.

And that’s when it clicked.

Maybe understanding wasn’t just about words—it was about where your mind was, how much life had shaped it. A younger person could say the same things an older one did, but their understanding of those words was different. Not wrong, just… not as deep. Like reading a book at twelve and then again at thirty—the same words, but an entirely different meaning.

She wondered if that gap ever truly closed. If understanding was something time alone could fix, or if some people would always be standing at different depths in the same ocean, trying to reach each other across the waves.
First time publishing. Hope right people find this. 🥀
It's Just a Hop, Skip, and a Jump to the Madhouse is available on Amazon.com.  It's raw and gritty, powerful writing.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DY4XDQYC
Faith Cubitt Feb 11
Deep in my heart I knew you'd leave.
I knew I wasn't good enough, even though I tried.
but I wanna know how you left so effortlessly?
I gave you my all.... so fully, leaving none of myself for me.
I rooted my self worth in you, if you loved me, I loved me. (but I would always love you more)
so how? how could you just leave without a second thought, knowing I loved you? knowing I would have given you the world  if you only would have asked?
you told me to jump and I asked how high.
even now, if you came back, I'd welcome you with open arms.
saying sorry for anything I did to make you leave. because I loved you. and I always will love you.
but I know you won't. you couldn't, you chose not to.
I was a space holder, no matter the lies you told me, the loved you pretended to share.
I was a mere page in your story, but you were my book....
I loved you more than life itself, I gave everything to you, even though I knew you were gonna leave. what the hell am I supposed to do now?....
Mica Wood Feb 8
How many times must my life fall apart
I’m lying here in shambles
One day I’ll learn, and guard my heart
This pain I cannot handle

Immutable law: everything changes
But it’s all changing so fast
I try and I try to keep turning pages
But still I’m stuck in the past

This awful book I’m trying to read
Is corrosive to my soul
If I’d shut it, then I’d be freed
I was already whole

I’ll lay my heart down in a cast
And together we will heal at last
Shakespearean sonnet adjacent.
Zack Feb 6
Sunlight on my book
The clouds are gone — for today
This chapter is great
Reading brings me peace especially under natural sunlight
Heidi Franke Jan 29
How sorry I am
That's the title of the
Book I will write.
If I say,
I may write,
Where does my sorry go?
My son unintentionally caused the death of another man. There were and are so many victims. Four years on I remain bewildered it even happened. If you knew the story you too would be dizzy. If any of those involved had altered anything they did by just 10 seconds there would be no story to write. We are all so fragile. Don't let vengeance in.
Next page