Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
arian Jan 11
these silhouettes strolled across, through the creaking bridge,
walked on it as if they didn't notice the noise,
stepped on it like they knew which path to take next,
but one thing they knew was that they had to cross over
without knowing it would break and took them down
and fed them to the raging waves below.
wyle tan Dec 2016
Sun rising of orange glow
Old cranes creaking in tow
To work, to work
Here we must go
15 December 2016. For Edwin's picture of sunrise and a construction crane.
gone girl Oct 2015
are you scared of the dark? when we were younger we spent so much time checking under our beds for monsters, looking in the basement, running to our bed after shutting off the light or hiding under those cotton blankets for false protection. we spent so much time running and checking and looking, and hiding, but from what? as i grew older i started to understand, i checked under my bed because i couldn't bear the fact that the monster was in mine and I was too scared to look in the basement of my subconscious, running from whatever that was in the dark then pulling the cotton over my eyes, the darkness might have been you, I mean sometimes when I would look into your eyes they were the deepest of browns, I could have sworn they were black sometimes, and you would creep around in my basement as I slept, looking for a clue that might give away my fears, but you did a pretty good job figuring it all out on your own. it might have been you, my eyes are the brightest of blues, but when you were done with me, so was my heart. after all you were sleeping in my bed stealing my every breath, but I didn't know that, and
in the hospital bed, you were there, with those black eyes, you like to come and visit sometimes, I don't miss you. we spend so much time trying to figure things out, the unexplainable, but sometimes... it's just better to leave it that way. I'm not scared of the dark anymore.
Heals tapping on the
Wooden floor creaking
Under the weight
Of time and weather like
The wind and steam
Of the machine in
The caffeine dream
Of the woman inside
The cup
Slowly burning my lips
At every breath taking sip
The words slip away
Coffee Fox is an actual coffee shop in Savannah GA
Poetic T Apr 2015
My mind is a ferries wheel,
It goes around & around,
Can you hear the creaking.

The carriages so many
Pretty colours, scratched
Thoughts. Broken carriages,
each one that stops, damaged
Contemplation of a mind torn.

My mind is a Ferris wheel
It has broken parts, it creaks
With every thought. Its a
Crumbling, dilapidated ride.

Which one will be the last
Carriage that carries my
broken thought, before it
Ceases. And this broken
Ride no longer dreams.

— The End —