Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ian Robinson Jan 5
I sit st my desk
stuck with a grotesque
feeling if writer's block
I can tell i'm loosing my stock
so i open my curtain to the window
just before sunrise

As the sunshine peaks
I look at my window
and to my my dismay
i see a charcoal black crow
and it said to me
You reap what you sow
Shadow Dragon Dec 2018
I'm tired.
Not that tired
which makes you stay in bed.
But the one that
makes you wish you did.
I think about life
and the value it has.
It can be worth more
than diamonds and gold.
Or it can be worth less
than coal.
I chose the second option
because I'm tired.
But if I rest my life,
put it on hold
and let myself breath,
I could make life more valuable.
Yet, I wish I was in bed
and sometimes I'm guilty
of wishing I was dead.
vera Dec 2018
i smiled in the face of death. who does he think he is to scare me? i knew his intentions and instead, i reached out and intertwined my fingers with his. the black dust and coal rubbed off on my skin and i felt the friction gaining energy. he looked into my already stone eyes and tried again to get me to fear him. ¨oh death,¨ i chuckled. ¨you cant ever scare me, because im not running from you anymore.¨
Mackenzie Dec 2018
This time last year
It was you
who filled me with Christmas cheer
even though loving you isolated me like
Rudolf the rednose reindeer
Slipping on ice
I only saw you but
Isn't it ironic
How love is so blind
Never once did I see that
You would be my demise
Your love was like a drug
Increasing my dose
Never afraid of getting too close
This Christmas
my heart is empty and
the weather is still cold
I prayed for you last night but the devil grabbed my soul
The love that we had
turned to coal
Snow settled in my heart
In the spot you used to hold
The holidays are so full of cheer
This year
I opened a box of our memories
No love lies here
M. D.
Amanda Nov 2018
We wrap ourselves in the unreasonable hope
This feeling will return
We aren't irreparable yet
We can douse the flames before it all burns

We've already began transforming into ash
The glow starting to fade out
Foundation crumbled long ago
A little late to save that part now

I cannot extinguish the fire that devours
Heart beating fast and hard
I want to ***** heat before it sears too deep
Rendering our love fragile and charred

Blood and tempers mix, form an inferno
Red reflections in air
Simmering thoughts escape my mind
Too boiling for me to bear

Every room is smoky and unsure
Failing to smother each angry ember
I'm suffocating in warm regret
Choking mistakes I involuntarily remember

My soul blackened from the burn
Screaming blisters appear in my heart
The darkest coals are all that remains
Of past love we shared, once bright, now dark
Once upon a time there was light in my life, now there's only love in the dark.
Talis Ren Nov 2018
yes, set fire to my books
and give me a lecture instead.
do you really believe that
conditioning creates
great people?

no, they all made themselves,
just as i have forged
my own matter
by pressing my ashes
into the ground.

diamonds are just coal,
after all.
Eleanor Rigby Oct 2018
Spilling your coal black insides
In coal black ink,
Into a snow white sheet.

Your twisted coal black
Little cunning friends
All have the same breath.

Some are demons,
Some are whispers,
And one of them is death.


-- Eleanor
Tanaya Aug 2018
Flames.
Flames result in something burning into ashes.
The stronger ones, that resist, are not saved from the effects either.
                                                                ­                             They blacken.

And when a fire and passion as strong as ours burns out, one of us is going to be reduced to ashes and the other one is going to carry the weight of the darkest heart around.

I strive to keep us ablaze because somewhere I know that the pain of being reduced to nothingness is much lesser than carrying around a broken piece of what once was.

                                                           ­                     Burnt from all sides.

And I know that I'm the one who's going to resist.
                                                         ­                                         Oh, I fear.
This particular musing is the closest to my heart,
Because it's four years since I wrote it first,
And now my hands are covered in soot.
Ashley Chapman Aug 2018
Here in the morning gloaming
burning
my skin flaming
as I imagine red kisses
from smouldering lips!

How easily
in anticipation
you make me wimper
before with pleasure
making me simper -
each kiss
another hot coal
placed on my rawness
with searing softness.
Jonathan Surname Aug 2018
I live a breath's away from the oldest river in the world.
While I don't take much of nature in it is awe inspiring,
to be sure.
I live within the crook of the oldest mountains in our history.
Not the tallest,
nor the proudest,
but for now these ranges are growing senile within their misery.

The riverrun through it and exposes rock perhaps a billion years old.
Our oral histories, passed on legends,
scary stories and mountaineer folklore accounts for
such a small passage of time.
We built a bridge once.
It was at one time the longest single-span arch in the world.
Now it's the fourth.
Top five, and that's something for which I am proud.
The oldest river, in the world.
The oldest mountains, in the world.
The highest fatal overdose rate, in the States.

There is a beauty to be had here. Somewhat backwards, but
growing up our water was clear.
It's now choked from coal slurry.
The brain drain of young adults leaving, in much hurry,
hurts us as the ones that remain become grey and blurry.
We are living in a permanent winter and we have high roads,
that wind and curve. Dangerous when icy. veins filled with
heavy loads and nodding verve.
I live a breath's away from the oldest river in the entire world.
I can't touch Roman ruins with my hands, or
sift through the Dead Sea and float on salt above sand.
I can't touch the hill where Jesus may have died,
I don't know what it feels like to hold history as pride.
But our trees even when green have a dusty coal darkened sheen.
Summer is overgrowth from the Springtime rains.
The highest fatal overdose rate in the entire United States.

Where once we built bridges to close in the gap of travel.
We unzip black bags with rigs and object with obvious cavil.
Our industry is old, the world is moving on from coal.
For better, to be sure, but in the meantime we grow cold.
Not from lack of heat, we can boil our spoons just fine.
But we need a replacement from shaft or the mountaintop mine.
Let us worry about beauty again,
let us treat addiction with correction instead of levying it as sin.
Remove the pantomiming politician speak
of addicts or the sick as being weak.

Let's find ourselves again, West Virginia. You're the only home I've known.
Childhood summertimes sat beneath canopies of caterpillar home,
the happy baby butterflies eating leaves so more sun could shone.
Walking sticks used to play with me in my yard,
and at nighttime I'd still be outside mouth agape at the stars.
Evening meant lightning bugs and I'd capture a few in the cup of my hands.
There was a whimsy to how nature responded to us,
how bees would bumble and land,
on the dandelions whose seeds I'd spread as I blew on their white
polyp heads.
Maybe it's nostalgia and my memories are tinted rosy.
The smell of wood stoves burning in winter,
the crispness of autumn breezes felt cozy.
There was a trust held in communities, or maybe I was naïve.
Some of my friends made a choice and moved.
Others among us took a more permanent leave.
My brother, too. He himself got in a lot of trouble.
Over the cotton swab boiled to a bubble.
He died when I was young so maybe everybody is right.
It's all sentimentality and a lot of lonely nights.
But does the past being ****** up make the worsening now fine?

I live a breath's away from the oldest river and mountain range.
I live with the highest fatal overdose rate in the United States.
there's much debate as to whether the New River or the Appalachian/Blue Ridge/Allegheny mountains are, in fact, the oldest.
there is, however, no debate as to whether or not West Virginia (WV) holds the highest fatal overdose rate in the US

In 2010 WV held one of the highest fatal overdose rates,
By 2017 much of the country's overdose rates increased
WV's 2010 numbers are higher than 60% of the country's 2017 numbers,
and WV's 2017 are higher than everybody else's.

This is not to meant to take away the pain that's transcended broadly throughout the country. This is not meant to be diminishing, not even remotely, but it is meant to shine a solemn light.

I'm sorry for those of you that may know somebody who has passed on from drugs, or that may be currently struggling with their addictions. Whether it's opiates, alcohol, or prescriptions.
But let's try to remove some of the stigma surrounding addiction.

Forgive some stolen money.
Avoid gossip and rumor.
Reach out to somebody who may have fallen away from the crowd.
I'd much rather live with an addict than haunted by a ghost.

thank you for reading
Next page