Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mary-Rose H Jun 2018
Whippy willow-branch crowns
and crystal-cold pool water -
grass-tickled bare feet
and breathless trampoline bouncing -
comfortable, starlit darkness
and hours spent amongst the trees.

These are the memories that return with the summer sun,
and I cannot shake their carefree presence,
or how they pierce my heart.

Summer was always our joy.
Just another poem about my ex-best friend. We loved being outside during the summer, and those memories always come back to me when it starts to get warm again.
A Lofi Cherry Apr 2018
It was the sky’s turn to switch palettes of colour. Though he forgot how, and they overflowed.  
Excited for the marscarade ball sky decided to hold.
Colours danced epotic like that never told.
A cream white river sliced in half.
Azure heard thistle laugh.  
But I blinked and the ball had settled to black.
Twilight again.
I saw a sunset and... ☼ a story unfolded before me.
I just had to trap it in ink and paper and language. Azurite and thistle are two characters based on the blue and purple colours with their names. I’m thinking of writing something with azurite and thistle again soon.
Kewayne Wadley Apr 2018
And like that she became wet.
******* before she bathed in the storm.
Umbrella left home, by the door.
She wanted to be cleansed.
Clothes thrown to the side.
Where's the fun in being dry.
To rush every moment that craves to be moist.
Splashing in puddle after puddle.
The Infatuation of being free.
The depth of being caught in a portrait just before it drys.
Covered in layer after layer of heavy blue.
A foam of white.
A kiss that quenches every thirst.
Our lips the brush that sops the wetness.
Forever more.
To purposely be caught without an umbrella
Devil Atticman Mar 2018
You'll lose me on that winding road;
On the guts of you I choke.
Wrought with knots like gallows' rope,

Your poem is too long.
I love the spirit's spilling forth, but in those rankled waves I'm crushed,
Doomed never to comprehend,
Buried 'neath a city of notes.
Rahama Mar 2018
I'm so happy
I could grow a tail right now
I'm so belated
I could die without regrets right now
Umi Mar 2018
Of ones heart with shadows lurking to take over spite is made precious to be felt exciting while it is in fact trecious, but a sleeping terror awakens at times as well, thus a rampage is made amongst it,
A thrill wandering down your spine when you wrong someone and see them tremble through your actions a cold shiver followed by spite
Choosing a carefree life, yet unable to hide the fact that no spark would be able to illuminate whats in your dark, where angels fear to tread, only to explore this loitering abyss within you for some time,
All this blood lust must bring you to insanity, make you a lunatic,
But let it happen, in this emotionless shell it's what feels majestic,
The storm raging inside, waiting to feed on this caused chaos,
Evil and vile, heartless not carrying a smile while mercilessly continuing this riot of a resented soul waiting, longing for destruction
Feeling alike to be burning up, priceless about this act of cruelty until the wanted realisation drives its way into your soul and you question yourself what you have done, or why you have done it for anyway,
But the time will come again for sure, so be ready for it to arrive
When the sleeping terror awakens for another dance

~ Umi
Jocelyn Mar 2018
He drives like a maniac
But it makes me feel alive

He lets me stand out the skylight
And the wind blows my hair
I look like a maniac

We speed down the backroads
We are isolated
But we are attached

He lets me turn the volume to 100
I scream the words to every song

He takes his eyes off the road to meet mine
He shakes his head in disapproval
But he can't help but smile when he sees me nonchalant

The crushing gravel under the truck tires
The brisk air hitting my face
The bass of the music pulsating through me

He drives like a maniac
He loses focus on the road when we kiss

He is the maniac driver
I am the maniac passenger

But we have never felt more alive
D Sep 2017
and when its just us
we let the minutes go by
carefree and happy
Carl Halling Jul 2017
When I was young,
I was so carefree,
At least that’s how
It seems to me,
Isn’t it strange,
How things turn out to be?

Full of hope,
Full of passionate dreams,
A thrilling new world
Lay right before me,
Isn’t it strange,
How things turn out to be?

Glass half full,
Then it’s half empty,
My mood can change
So very unpredictably,
Isn’t it strange,
How things turn out to be?
'How Things Turn Out to Be' is, as the lyrics make manifestly clear, a song from one of my episodic ‘glass half empty’ periods, this one dating from 2016.
Next page