Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
SomaSonata Aug 2020
Life is a flower
I want to pluck its petals
And taste the metal

Heard the trees falling
Glorious impurities
You found your calling

Cooling by degrees
Don't know which viewpoint I see
Yesterday's headlines...

Sickness of the swine
Fever of the fettered mind
Fits me right to size

Lazy summer days
Give way to scorched Earth evenings
Red bloom carriers

Speak the golden words
Catch the boomerang's return
Old dogs never learn

Dance the night away
No refunding second thoughts
Paper spades in play

Terracotta fued
Running low on rocket fuel
Engines slow to cool

Someday sometime soon
Take a dip in glitter dust
Shaking off the rust

Prospective buyer
Beware the hyperbole
Circle back someday
Julie Grenness Jan 2020
Can you discuss this with me?
Is honesty anyone's best policy?
Here, truth is no one's friend,
Where does BS start and end?
Feedback welcome.
Tony Tweedy Sep 2019
It would seem my dropping out of school has cost me in loves game yet again.
Going with a lovely lady to the towns hottest club...
How was I to know that the sign outside "Liquor at the front and poker out the back" didn't mean what I thought it did.
I have been barred from going to the club ever again and my case comes up next month.....
False Poets Feb 2018
there is no value in a poem that reads
_____
_____
____­
M M l i f e s u c k s x x x n o p o e m i g o t

just

nerve; crap bs, a denial of craft

seek the intelligent intelligible,
kiss the sensational thrill that
emotion harvests with resonating tenses
that beg our brains to differ, sense

this claims,
there is no value in no words is
a hoax cloaked as art by the weak,
make thy metaphors metastasize,
my every cell, a preposition,
preposterous and precious and
comforting in their
privations and provocations

speak to us in alpha and
line our eyes wide,
with pictures at an exhibition
of a faun immobile and beauteous

let me hang on every word of yours and
let it be the raft that sees me happily
unsafe home

take your bs line poem  
shove it down your silent voice

this is not avant garde; this is insulting

p.s.  write me a smile and all will be_____
.
Khadro Jama Feb 2019
These females always giving demands.
Like who are you to me?
To go out of your time and day to bother someone.
You've got some itch to scratch called BS drama.
Ive got NO time to WASTE on you
Because your not worth getting mad over
Your not  obliged.
Move around or GTFOMF
I will rise above as the lord knows it.
Sense you cant comprehend my words
I'll just walk away
Because ******* JeAlous!!
trf Jul 2018
youthful years, now reduced
when right angles were obtuse
find my path of lost tracks
feathered freight in the caboose

falling sand, hour glass
shades the moon from the cracks
'neath the back porch lies the dog
who howls when sand runs out

whispered winds
don't you lie
and try to save my sins
whispered winds
don't you lie
don't you die

dreary days, losing weight
i call out but cannot say
what is wrong, i'm ok
let's talk the ******* fake

fever chills, alone to face
california king's embrace
i stretch out, all my regrets
and dream of an escape

whispered winds
don't you lie
and try to save my sins
whispered winds
don't you lie
don't you die
luis Jan 2018
is poetry really something you think about

like, can this be considered poetry?
me, here

sitting at a computer screen
typing words ever so

conversationally

this reads less like a poem
and more like a speech
or perhaps, like a friend
telling you their day over coffee
and I bet right now you can smell the roasted beans
the air, thick with the smell of caffeine, whipped cream,
possibly a cigar or two

and you hear the voice of your best friend
who's telling you about their day

how they had it rough that day
Ben from accounting really knew how to ruin a day, let me tell you
or perhaps,
someone just spilled coffee all over their notes while they were studying

and as much as fifty apologies can mend a relationship,
fifty apologies can't dry up your english notes

can we really consider this kind of stuff poetry?
it's completely free-form
against the norm,
little to no rhyme or structure
no substance whatsoever

just a mindless person rambling about things that seem ever so slightly relatable

is this really poetry?

probably not.
i literally spent all of 0 minutes thinking about this please don't enjoy
And if I could cry-
for just a little while
My body would run dry

Tear ducts, like air ducts
I need a replacement
The ventilation is all wrong

Misty and fogged glasses-
Impair my vision
Remove them and I am blind

Blind to the heartache-
the metaphorical bleeding
inside of my mind

Every day the pain grows-
Grows roots, roots that once
kept me grounded

Now I'm surrounded-
by the demons I once
banished

Rip the roots from my feet
and all I'm left with is nothing.

Nothing but darkness
and blank space

Dark and deep
The black hole In which I keep you
Swirls infinitely

I brace myself for impact
the meteorite sets it sights
on my chest
****** target, take aim and
gain flight

Don't miss, you'll regret it

I could be angry, but what's the point?

You're gone forever
and never coming back
© 2017 Christina Jackson
Happy birthday daddy <3 I miss you every day
Next page