Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Vic Mar 2019
Maybe I should start doing homework,
I just wrote eight finished drafts.
I have an arm full of words and ink,
That I just made in class.
What else should I be doing?
Is the question mostly asked.
But I'll just copy her history notes,
I really need to get some sleep.
I'm writing a small poem every day about how I feel or the world around me. This is #15
Kayla Hardy Mar 2019
How can I, a source of such exuberant energy, look so startled?
Black, sunken eyes with a wide, gaping mouth that can **** you, but also bring things to life.
Hunched against the wall, I pale in comparison to the pretty polka-dot paint,
just a hard, blank shell covered in dirt, grime, and dust.
Come to me only when time is on the line, with forceful, shaking hands.
to fill my deep, dark void with a surge of passion,
only to abandon me for hours at a time, while I exert all my energy just to bring you joy.
I hum and buzz until you rip away my nutrients until I’m ****** and drained,
with my surprised expression returning to one of electrifying horror.
But still, I’m the lucky one to give you a glowing light, always full, to destroy the darkness.
I’m not one that gets lost in dusty shadows that might never be found,
who sits in silence, with that shocked face, waiting to find out his powerful purpose.
Prompt: Write a portrait of someone or something no one else pays any attention to.
Van Xuan Mar 2019
Heaviness of eyes
Unreadable sentences
Fighting drowsiness

Cold afternoon breeze
Drags wandering minds to sleep
So hard to resist

Yet the best part is...
The sound of a lullaby
Of prof's discussion

Oh how wonderful
To rest peacefully like I'm...
Sleeping on God's wings

Unfortunately...
When the prof caught us sleeping
Hell will seethe our soul
Vic Feb 2019
If you're looking for a reason not to **** yourself tonight, this can be it.

Sometimes, we feel as if nothing matters.
We all do.
So i made a list of a few of my own reasons,
13 Reasons Why
I'm still alive.
And hopefully you'll change your mind.
Those moments you feel happy, and nothing but lucky.
And you wish nothing will ever change.
I will try my best.

Reason 2. Paper Planes.
It sounds very weird; paper planes, but let me explain. Think about the times when you're walkin in a hallway on your way to a test, and you see a friend from a different class who already took it. You look at them and they immediately shout what you have to read, and you shout back the answer from the homework's last question. Or when you're in class, writing a disstrack about the teacher and annoying the **** out of them because the whole class just knew without telling we had to annoy the teacher. So you fold boats, make hats and trow clots of paper. When you have slack lay in class. When you trow paper planes and when everyone gets a F on the math test. When two of your friends want to sit next to you so you finally have a group of 12 people and don't do a **** during class. That feeling of luck, of happiness, of friendship and the feeling of stomach pain from laughing. Like you belong here. That feeling when you just have to smile. It's hard to explain but i hope you get it.
Kayla Hardy Feb 2019
Multiple eyes glisten under the scalding lights
with hooded lids like a blood-thirsty spider stalking its prey

Yelling in the spotlight where the words fail to come out
locked behind gates of enamel shaking in the cold, wet dark

Full-fledged failure alerts the signal which forms
salt soaking stains against the burning, red hot flesh

Empty and alone, unaccepted and frozen like the
scrawny polar bear that wasn’t good enough to be the mate

Annihilation takes its course through the inside
resembling a death-eating disease stealthily flowing through veins

Reduced to nothing more than a fast-fading memory
gone as fast as a rollercoaster disappearing into the loud, tight tunnel

Silence that used to be comforting now is as deafening
as a tree falling in the middle of the forest, but nobody is around
Prompt: Write a poem that scares you. I first wrote down my fears, what those fears reminded me of and then came up with this piece.
Kayla Hardy Feb 2019
Dying Sun

Warmth on my eyelids welcomes a new day
and you, create a reflection against my skin
pink carnations sit on the window sill
soaking up the sun, but desperately begging for water
I kiss you gently and grab the vase
my fingertips brush against you while the birds wish us good morning
I remember how much you loved the pink carnations when we got them
your soft, delicate hands so gently pouring water into the glass
the crinkles by your eyes because you were so happy
and because it was always too sunny by that window
you didn’t care though, sun made you smile
so even when the birds stop singing
or the carnations begin to die around you
I know that the sun will make you smile.
This poem is from a prompt: Write an aubade that is also an elegy
Hunter Feb 2019
By 20, I hope that I am happy.
By 25, I hope that I am happy.
By 30, I hope that I am happy.
By 35, I hope that I am happy.
By 40, I hope that I am happy.
By 45, I hope that I am happy.
By 50, I hope that I am happy.
By 55, I hope that I am happy.
By 60, I hope that I am happy.
By 65, I hope that I am happy.
By 70, I hope that I am happy.
By 75, I hope that I am happy.
By 80, I hope that I am happy.
My English teacher asked us to write a poem using "by ___, I hope that I..." for every 5 years, and in an act of pure defiance, I decided to not. I'm still only 16 and I don't know what I want to do with my life, I just want to be happy.
Haylin Feb 2019
what is a man-made education
getting a job,
not working in your field,
as that degree, hangs dusty on the wall, yet
we passed the class,
we made the grades,
we're smart, yet we keep ******* up...
you know it, I know it,
we all know it.
Next page