Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Allen James Mar 12
I have been offered the position of a Poet,
In the office high above the fields
where my ripe and naked heart
has labored carelessly,
And the daily quotas of insecurity
were nowhere to be met.

I've worked hard for this promotion,
And even harder to decline it.
Broadsky Mar 3
I'm looking at the drum you bought me, this beautiful Djembe drum. You bought it for me because you saw how I lost myself in the rhythm that night at the field party. I remember the warmth and glow of the fire, music blaring from someone car, the hum of people laughing and talking. I remember the pill you took and the man you got it from, I remember after you peaked you called to one of your friends "have you met my girl? This is my girl" and how I never wanted to be anyone else's again. I remember our tent in the corner, and making love all night, I remember getting up at 6am and walking in the dewy grass letting the sun's rays warm my completely bare skin. I remember riding home with you and your clenched jaw from coming down, I remember everything; and I refuse to forget.
I still remember how you felt in my hands.
Johnny walker Feb 11
To walk the hills to where I played as a kid and feeling distant and so far away from the world that of my little town to where I
live
That has not changed much since those days I played as a kid while walking those hills takes me back to all the sunny days that never seemed to end
playing happily In those hills and fields of green looking down from the hills to valley below I could see down to the house where I
lived
would sit on hill feeling safe away from from the house and child abuse I knew I'd be punished for staying out late but the fear of going home caused me to stay out
longer
All those years past but remembered as If It were yesterday felt as If someone had walked on my grave cold shudder through my
body
and I sat down on the hill and lite cigarette looked  down the hill to the house where I once lived then walking away with all those memories still fresh In my mind as It were
yesterday
Memories as a kid walking and playing the fields and hills surrounding my home
Winter sunset—
The wrinkled field
and this wasted heart.
Bryce Nov 2018
To count upon my woe
and prostrate myself at your command
Lips ruminate the words
The powdered skin of slushy snow

And is he only man
With passions gone of last I heard
To all the moments never known
The last of which would fell the ******

Though mortal sighs were solemn dirge
Anticipate the breaths you blow
Inside the shaking grip of hands
Clasps the sudden, hidden urge

To count upon my thoughtless woe,
The last of which would raze the land.
Jo Swan Oct 2018
In the fields of fragrant flowers,
I see Mother’s supple silhouette
shimmering with the soft sunlight.
Her hair tied with peony barrette;
Sweet smiles radiate at sight.
The sentimental scents of myrrh
Wafts from her body; my eyes gleam;
I run towards and embrace her.
Is this a dream? Is this a dream?

In the fields of fragrant flowers,
This time and space is of great blest-
I wish there was no tomorrow.
For months I have been left bereft.
I tell mother of my sorrow;
I wish to be with her and roam
Away from life’s chaos and gloom.
Return to the land of our home,
And see orchid blossoms bloom.
I ask mother if I could stay;
Thousand tears cloud her gentle eyes;
She kisses me like rainy day;
It is time to awake and part!

My heart weeps with the wintry wind.
Her spirit; many miles apart.
I am alone and left behind
To face this world’s reality.
Must this be my sad destiny?

All that is left
Is scents of fragrant flowers.

(c) 2018 Joanne Chang
Sharon Talbot Sep 2018
If spirits can walk the earth after life ends,
Or even before, to soar in flights unhindered
By physics, let me dance then!
To reel, arms out, on a vivid green lawn
In a garden before a comfortable house,
Where lush flowers grow and summer reigns,
Touching rows of Constable trees that tower, emerald,
And violet-shadowed even at noon or painted
In twilight, soft before a rising moon.
I would skip over roads and find that field
That lies, protective, above the Connecticut,
Watching as it winds lazily northward.
Then, being sure that all is right,
That the corn is tall and full,
I would speed up to a rounded hill
Above a Victorian barn in Leyden,
Ten acres of rye grass for the cows.
I would stand at the summit and gaze
Far away, down the sleeping valley in its haze,
To the little towns and glittering in
The sun, my alma mater, towers
Of attempted wisdom, of spires and dreams.
Then I might then bathe in a little lake
Where I once romped with friends
After a wedding, **** and laughing
While puzzled farmers watched and leered.
As before I would flee to the river that wound
Down between the hills, splashing through
Pools in shade and sun, basking on smooth stone
Whose marbled veins glow in the canyon light,
Remnants of an ancient era, of pressure and time.
Then on I’d go, bounding from one hilltop to another,
Turning north from the cesium-laced Deerfield,
Passing Vermont’s border to stroll the streets
Of Brattleboro, Putney and Newfane.
I might find a canoe and glide up the West River,
Somehow floating above the rapids and dam,
To rest on the flat water as the sun sets,
Skimming lightly, watching the trout rise
To sip dancing insects or hear the splash
Of a bass as it flicks the surface with its tail.
And then I would sit with the ones I love,
Silently, breathing in the mist that rises
As the sun slips below the hills;
Sunset-colored, elliptical echoes
Catch the low swells like waving glass.
I would wait here until morning returns,
Not ready to leave this beauty or the world.
Reverie about the places I love.
Lyn-Purcell Jun 2018
Sweet fields from the East
Ride with the sea's harmony
Heal all through seasons
Sorry guys, my headache seems to have worsened. Not only that, my sleep pattern is starting to get messed up, and my mind seems to be in that grey bubble. A bubble I somehow manage to pop but fall into...
Ugh. I hate this.
Anyway, I will try to update more tomorrow, I'm hoping my mind and head will be better.
Thanks so much for the support! 108 followers, man!
Thank you, all of you!
Love y'all so much!
Be back soon!
Lyn ***
Next page