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Àŧùl Sep 22
She had introduced me,
To Hello Poetry.

'Twas a day like none other,
I reached Amritsar for her.

Accompanying me that day,
Was my kind physiotherapist.

Yes, the very same physiotherapist,
Who I dubbed physio the ******,
For the pain used to be unbearable.

But no,
'Twas necessary for my betterment.

Coming back to Amritsar,
She was pleasantly surprised.

For she thought I'd play a prank,
Just like she had played one on me.

Giving me a false hope that she'll come,
Anyway, I went to her home.

I wished her on her birthday,
My physiotherapist went away.

I tuned her guitar as E A D G B E,
Eddy Ate Dynamite, Good Bye Eddy.

They laughed, her friends.
For who eats a Dynamite!

Well, that's the standard tuning,
Now I played a few songs.

Her friends were impressed,
Of me, she was proud.

I presented her a pen drive,
A Gaņesha adorned drive.

She loved it,
And thanked me.

After the party, she insisted that I stay,
I slept beside her father.

She shook me awake, and I was like,
"Who are you," she put her hand.

"Shh, it's me," she whispered,
I understood and relaxed.

She kissed me again at 3:30 a.m. on 24th,
This time I was awake and gave her my warmth.

Later, before sunrise, I went to the Station,
I had united with my Physio The ******.

I hugged her for one last time,
And we climbed on the train back.

Now nothing remains but memories,
Bitter ones to be more precise.

She cheated on me in 2015-16,
When I couldn't go to Amritsar.

My former best friend capitalised,
The ******* induced the breakup.

But that girl, who got so easily seduced,
She Wasn't Sad — Droņa Wept Like Kids.

And the immortal Droņa died,
Unable to trust anyone again.
My HP Poem #1997
©Atul Kaushal
there is no river
without the shores,
two hands guiding

no left poet
unless a right,
to believe in

let magic dragons
all the live long day,
sit upon my shoulder

whispering bad jokes,
always showing off,
with whistling fiery

demonstrations,
still there, old man’s
boon companion

didn’t wake to write
this, but Puff nudged
me awake, his heart

so big it lives, loves,
me still, always will,
for the little poem boy

could not dream, now
that history leaves its
handiwork tell tale signs

upon his carriage,
but look closer,
twinkling eyes, yet scheme

and my dragon licks
me wet face, every Morn,
and I tuck him in every Eve

he is my friend, my better half,
and likes this poem very much,
watched me write every word

dragons purr, laugh out loud,
at their own jokes, makes me
happy, because old men die
happy contented knowing that

dragons will always tell jokes
even when a little boy lover
must go
in every grumpy curmudgeonly old man,
lives f o r e v e r a little boy, I am living
almost dying proof…just tell him an old corny he has
heard 1000’s of times, and watch what happens

stand back for that scaly dragon may just yet
spit firer *****
i don't even like you.
(i want to be just like you.)
i don't want to participate in your humiliation ritual
(i'm sick of being the sacrifice. spread someone else's ribs on the gym floor.)
**** conformity.
(i study every movement and take it for myself.)
**** conformity.
(i want to be just like you.)
**** conformity.
(can i wear your skin?)
don't come near me.
(i want proximity and brotherhood like a sick second hunger.)
please go away.
(please hit me without being afraid of hurting me. with all the tender force of brotherhood.)
i don't talk to him.
(look at me, look at me, look at me, please.)
i'm not good at sports.
(i work so hard and still come up short.)
don't hurt me.
(hurt me like a brother would. i am sick of you walking blood through the hall from the eggshells you walk on. i am not so fragile.)
i can smell the axe body spray.
(hit me like you know i can take it.)
please, no.
(i wish.)
sometimes i just wish i was cool
Mandi Wolfe Aug 23
He sleeps
I want to stay mad
I really really want to stay mad
I don't want that as much as I want to fill out my kids' emergency medical forms for school
Or as much as I want to throw away the trash from the counter
Or as much as I want to pace the kitchen floor for an hour.
Or as much as I want to lay down my arms and tell him the truth of what hurts.
Or as much as I want him.
But he wants sleep.
Seems reasonable enough.
I want sleep.
Boys ****- it's embarrassing as **** to still be saying that and writing ****** sad poems about it at 36.
Toothache Jan 7
quiet high summer nights
waving off mosquito bites
and lips so dry
the tap tastes like nectar
a glass shared is sweeter, better.
soda like opal in the moonlight
should we order in tonight?
leave the window open. though it's raining
this is our little love remaining
Zywa Oct 2023
Boys thinking to be

a good lover, sink their claws --


into the girl's soul.
Novel "De eeuwige jachtvelden" (1995, "The happy hunting grounds", 1999 Nanne Tepper), first paragraph of the Second book

Collection "Within the walls"
Heavy Hearted Apr 2023
A, always absencent and afraid
D, in such distaste;
A, for anger- absoloute
& M, cuz mans a ****** Waste:

Is this a written name?
Of this friend or potential lover
How he Reels this unique pain,
Too bad he wont discover:
That I'm the one whos truth's attentive
Not the one with words incentive-
Take ownership, & be repentive
Your minds absolutely unretentive.

I don't believe that you have this gift
To heal and unlock a Better version
of whoever you think you are-

What you've been given, you must shift
Enjoying that fake xannax bar?

A lthough you hurt
D ont hurt me too
A lways iconsiderate-
M anipulated too.

✌️
A man disrespected me and i dont tollerate that from little *******
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