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Valya Mar 1
I'm staring at the clock
Waiting for the 9 to become a 0
Checking how much longer
Until I'm out
I sit here in silence
Typing away
The only sound being
My fingertips on the keyboard
I look again, the 0 is there
But now I long for it to be a 1
A never ending, vicious cycle
Minutes away from a freedom
That can only be achieved
After 7 hours in this hell
When the day comes
That I no longer stare
At this digital *******
And instead enjoy what is around me
I will finally be at peace
Chelsea Rae Oct 2021
You make Tomorrow sound so beautiful baby.

The way that the false promises
Fall right off your tongue
So gracefully
Like silver waters.

I love the ways we're always waiting,

Waiting on Tomorrow.
Procrastination with a lil bit of doubt and fear mixed in and voila! You have a life unlived.
A creature so hopeless.
The embodiment of boredom.
Flips through his life repeating the same sentences often,
Never getting to the end in time,
Placing the bookmark every now and then,
Fails at wooing Routine,
Ultimately gives in to immediate reinforcements.
Syd Aug 2021
Despite my painting skills and the passion ,
Upon which my fate rests .
They have rejected me in a regular fashion !
It's life with its horrible tests .

I will redraw borders and the world map !
My motherland will no longer put up with crap !
Not me
Aahi May 2021
Is it the era of feeling down in a continuous way?
Wilkes Arnold Mar 2021
Depression is an overused word
It might make an easy rhyme
For poets who labor under the impression
That they can climb to the heights of expression
By showing no discretion with each and every
Narcissistic emotional self-obsession confession.

But of all the poetic depression transgressions
From the front of the procession
To the straggling indiscretion
The worst and least touched on
Is that it's boring...

Depression and talk of it
Leads to the inevitable compression
Of each and every tidbit
Or texture that prevents a poem from becoming a lecture

It flattens the curve
It scans the sculpture
A man of depth dwindles to a nerve

But depression doesn't let them see how it narrows their view
The circle it drew around appropriate questions
Ignore the censor and suppression
Be vigilant of the slightest dispossession
Starting to understand this oppression?

Don't let it convince you that you can see more clearly
From the bottom of a pit
You have no idea what you're missing
This became more of a psa than I intended. Written with the utmost compassion.
Avoid boring people - james watson
sara Feb 2021
yellow outside
grey from the back of the eye
a tired head holds
a dauntless mind
catching words
I won’t recognize.

This memory fell and
will never climb up;
restless legs on
resting souls.

Back pain hardly
sets fire to the day
of yellow outside
and inside of grey.
Evie G Feb 2021
If you were to ask me what boredom was, I’d tell you were boring and to stop asking stupid questions, but if you really persisted, I would tell you boredom is the tick tock on the white clock on the white wall of our English classroom.
it’s the thrill of seeing how many dried crackers you can cram into your mouth before your mouth becomes a cracked and dried desert. Boredom is
making up haikus,
Alone but not quite knowing,
How many syllables go on each line
Boredom is haikus.
Boredom is
the decapitation of innocent
grass blades as you listen to an unenthused sports teacher
the blood of your unwitting enemies splattered on your fingers.
Boredom is this boring poem


Now you were never one for boredom;
you enjoyed sitting on the grass, getting a soggy ***,
you enjoyed the crunch of crackers snapping on your tongue,
you really enjoyed
and I still do not know why
making up haikus
you enjoyed the long languorous spaces between lines...





and I guess that really was just you.
But recently the silence has been getting short its rudely interrupted
by forced laughs and nervous glances from eyes that recently went shopping


You jump at every crunch or crack, scared of well…
I don’t know .

And your poetry,
Well, you barely write anymore because you just can’t seem to muster up the energy and you’re just tired and its nothing to worry about and it doesn’t matter anyway because you have an English essay due tomorrow yeah-


And the grass misses your ***


And I miss you


And there’s someone in your place, a lethargic parody, too frightened to pick up the phone, frightened by nothing at all
There’s a black hole in the shape of a friend
hidden behind the comets of comedy and asteroids of avoidance there’s a small hole


I reach in… grasping for a hand,
I catch glimpses. tufts of hair. old coffee smiles
but… nothing
so, I try again

I reach in, grasping for a hand, or even a bone
I catch glimpses of skin, hair, teeth, bone. Nothing
and each time I throw myself into the silent abyss,
batter past the comets and asteroids and reach into that dark expanse I find less and less,
I miss you


I am right outside,
whenever you’re ready to,
we can talk a bit


I’m trying my best ,
and I really care for you ,
but haikus are dumb
accept it, it’s true.


The spot of grass is waiting right where you left off,
the crackers in the tin are there just waiting to be scoffed.
if ever in that silence
you feel yourself alone
just know that in my house,
you’ve found yourself a home.
Hey there! so i actually just won my schools poetry competition with THE HARRY BAKER judging so i can now die happy my life is complete oh my god. This is essentially an extended version of a poem i wrote back in November i think, it really takes on a new meaning and (i might be bias here) i think is worth the read ? Anyway, any feedback would be lovely, thanks
Also, willing to debate the validity of haikus because i think they are terrible
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