Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aditya Roy Oct 2020
You've never given
Me reasons to stay
But, your love
Catches my eye like a star in the sky

The surprises come
When I'm lonely
Without your lovely
Face on my mind

When I look at the mirror
Your fingertips touch my softly
I wonder what touches my soul
Bringing my mind in focus

Your lovely presence
Must be a disguise
I hope she'll forgive me.
It's her birthday.
And I forgot.
She wanted to live
like no one was
watching
live only for herself
and her memories
to care only about
what she wanted
but it wasn't that easy
because all she
did was worry
all she did was
be scared
if only she just lived
Where Shelter Sep 2020
the words don’t come easy (Poet’s Nook)

~for the postman who always rings twice~

<>

nah, they come
too easy,
from me, for you, doesn’t mean
they’re cheap, quite the opposite!

hard earned, been through the
washing machine so often,
they claim recyclable status

ok, so they are worn, edges raggedy,
they don’t care, nor do I, cause you
can’t find me any that never been fired

in the kiln of experience that came before
the crucible of my eyes, that says to them
welcome back! old friends, easy and familiar

stay for a few minutes, before you must get
snatched by some younger person’s heart,
send them along with my thanks and my

fare-thee-well, bon voyage, stop by one more
time, if you pass this way, I’ll be in that place,
Poet’s Nook, in our atmosphere of inspiration

where we have cohabitated, cogitated, and
wept together, co-created, and dreamed of
new combinations of our old souls’ cross currents

8:11am Sep 10 ‘20


In the Nook,
S.I.
k e i Sep 2020
it’s normal.
to have days where you just watch your thoughts reach and flirt with each other in the ceiling.
where you don’t turn that prompt into the opening lines of a poem.
where you’re left unprepared without your best outfit.

it’s normal to have days for sleeping in ‘til 4pm.
where you only tick off two items off your todo list and calling it a day.
where you take time in the shower to sift through your thoughts.

some days are meant for adoring the sky.
for accepting you’re infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things.
some days are meant to be slow.

“and it’s normal and you’re alright-or will soon be.”
Aditya Roy Aug 2020
Her
She's like the rain drops that fall in our hands
A grey eyed wolf in the cotton white skies
She looks down, out of reach

She owns the streets drenched in puddles
Reflecting the relics
Washes the sidewalks every afternoon

The flowers in her hair bloom in many hues
Like jewel mines
Which need to be searched thoroughly

She lives on a rainbow
Letting me gaze on her
Soon, the earth will be variegated, with nobody left to stare

Looking into the skies of black
We take what is clear
Seeing what we lack

A brown fog that clouds our sight
Asking for me, and a bit of you
I cannot remember what day it rained

But, when the rain comes, I find myself smiling
Cherishing her
The memories, often, coming back
Comparing someone to rain. Can you imagine? The beautiful, melancholy and transient experience of torrential downpour. Put into a bite-sized poem named "Her." I don't who it is, or who it isn't.
izi Jul 2020
Truth, what a flighty tempest,
what a silent storm.
How strange it is to speak it,
feel its mark on your tongue,
the metallic taste in your throat.

Mine has always been a silent world,
So words have not been easy,
some words have been easy,
greasy as words.

As another lie,
slips between my lips,
soft as a breath of wind.

And I have denied, and then denied
that I denied.
I have invented myself,
so many times,
so that others would believe.

They would think
that I was who they thought I was, and I suppose,
so that I, too, would believe.
And also for
no
particular
reason
I have lied, and that is
the truth.
M Grant Teague Jul 2020
The well crumbled
The dam broke

Dragon worms of tears
Gush round riverbends
Where life has dried out
How do you explain something so vivid in a moment of sorrow?
To speak from the heart
Is never an easy task
But you help a bit
Michael Ryan Jun 2020
Can you love me,
Can you love me -
as if I was an ocean breeze
crooning through your hair,
reminding you of simple love.

The kind of love you knew as a child,
the soft touch of your parent's hand on your head
as you fall asleep for an afternoon nap.

Can I be your love,
I want to be the gust of air
that soothes your heart,
and reminds you of what it really means to have crush.

The kind of crush,
that brings you well-back to middle school,
where chocolate and gummy candies
showed devotion, and everyone knew it was real.

I love you,
whomever you are -
I love you.
Who knew that reading "The Stand" would make me write a poem like this.  Whoever reads this remember or come to know that you are worthy of unconditional love; find the love you really deserve.
Kayla universe Jun 2020
Depression manifested by isolation

Communication is more important than ever these days so how I do I tell you that I wanna run away?

Change my name and get a new look because I’ve been locked in this cage for over 96 days.

It’s summertime and the living isn’t easy.

LIVING
             ISN’T
                       EASY.
This poem is really about living in isolation during this global pandemic we’re all facing. I really feel like I just want to run away and start somewhere new. How are you feeling during this time? Enjoy the poem and leave a comment below❤️❤️
Next page