Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sundas Oct 2020
To me,
My words,
Are my thoughts.
Milk in a pan drifting,
Lazily in mexican waves,
On tiptoes with fingertips,
Stroking the three litre line.

to you
my words are
the time you blinked
and clots of milk swelled into pregnant pufferfishes
and a siren hissed incessant incantions you swore fate birthed to hex your mind
and a trident foamed at the mouth relishing the theft of nature's permission to shapeshift  into a lightening bolt and to zap your stove a blistering white in three times ten to the eight metres per second
I logged into Hello Poetry today after 5 years. Found a whole heap of very bad teenage poetry (too embaressed to keep public). Maybe my poetry is still bad but I'm almost not a teenager anymore.
You are the task
that would overwhelmingly
identify my voice range.

You are the response
that would screen
and leverage my multiple inputs.

I’m the header and footer
that would automatically work
across devices.

I’m are the hub
that would impact
all your on-the-go moves.

Considering this,
all I say is you are my E2E.

((E2E: Extended Experience trying to make Integrative))

© Feelings Coated
Mr Siri trying to make with Ms Alexa E2E2I: Extended Experience trying to make Integrative
Crow Oct 2019
We are told what a tiger is
From the moment we can listen:
Picture books, poetry, songs and stories,
A thousand ways to show this thing
That few of us will ever see.

We grow older, the stories darker:
The tigers will hunt us, beautiful, terrifying
If we dare to step outside borders
Set by those from a time where they were inevitable,
A promise, guaranteed, that someday they would come.

We dream of the day that they find us,
Make a meal of our fragile bodies,
Leave nothing but bones and torn-up cloth,
Vanish into the night to sleep us away.
We tell ourselves the only way to live,
Is to be meat in the stomach of a predator,
The way it is and always will be.

If we had not been told of tigers,
Would they be as real as now?
Or would they remain nothing
But an amber-striped thought
Stalking the edges of our cities in the dark?
if we were not told all the ways we should be,
would we still feel them?
Evangeline Jul 2019
Demonic you with mischief in your bones,
Sacred the pyres in which you were born,
Fire and brimstone
And chaos is your blood.

In Lilim you wrote
In a black book of ashes,
To torture the souls
As you destroy your own
Unraveling secrets and pain in the process,
Mitigating it lightly, then
Swimming with the dark.

Oh, Demon,
A promise I made you
A century ago.

Oh, Daughter of Lilith,
All the wars in your eyes
And battlefields in your blood
Made you into a demon
Much better and strong.

Oh, Child,
Your destiny is to serve Beelzebub,
The Prince of all Demons,
His kingdom, his laws,
And it's hard to survive with the Devil in tow,
But you, Little Hellion,
Will cut his wings off.

So go,
Give them hell, Kid,
'Cause there they belong.
Their sins feed the fires as flesh turn to smoke,
And screams turn to ashes
As you torture them all.

In the pyres of Hell,
Little Hellion,
Be strong.
Inspired by the common phrase: "Give 'em hell, kid"
Morgan Spiers Sep 2018
when my guilt found the spare key
my condolences became roommates
who never pay their rent.

living with the ghost of shame
changes one's routine;
tastes like apologies-
and isolation
smells like your cologne.

ive become an innkeeper,
a host,
for the parts of others
they insist on banishing.
K Balachandran Feb 2017
All aglow we were
from the smoldering
ember of love within.
Each felt the warmth
loving hearts exude
when we all were
in an extended embrace.
Then we heard love
singing to us sans words
"None of you would
feel complete
without the others
in this web of love
DaSH the Hopeful Feb 2016
I used to flip through my pages
There were some interesting points
  Some high, some low, some kind of just sitting in-between after the good and the bad cancelled each other out, but mostly I
       Skimmed by,

         Until I met you,

                 You can't be summed up, there's too much to you, you're too rich, too deep
Too interesting to be confined to a few measly paragraphs and sped-read through

     You deserve attention, you deserve time,

       And the more I've gotten to know you, the more I realize you're the entire book, the entire story in beautiful, vivid detail.

                *I'm going to take my time getting to the end of you, and I dog-eared the page where you entered my heart, so that if I ever forget how it feels to fall for you, I can go back to the start
Megan Booysen Jan 2016
Moonlit eyes reflected on still, icy water
They draw me in
Into those deep blue depths I wander,
I dissolve into fragments of our memories
as I wade through your visions,
I see myself from the back line of your heart
and with salty tears,
I distort the perfect mirror of your eyes

Questions ripple out from the source:
How do you see such beauty in something so cruel
Why do you stay there in that storm that bites and claws at your soul
Don't you know why storms are named after people

My love does not know release
My love is desperate, unapologetic,
it will clutch you back every time you reach for the shore

But you are stronger than the tides
Gravitational pull has no power over your will
So what force is this that binds you to the idea
of this endless body of water
Have the sirens whispered sweet lies of true love
and other treasures buried deep in these dark waters
Or is the idea of drowning seeming sweeter than regret

Either way, be sure that I will destroy you in the most beautiful way
and the shipwreck I cause will mark every place with our memories
You will taste me forever like salty blood in your mouth
And your bright eyes will haunt me until the day I run dry
Next page