Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Valentin Eni Dec 12
Anatomically

If you were to remove my tongue,  
I would still have  
The pen and the inkwell.  

Ontologically

If you were to take out my tongue,  
And the pen from my hand,  
I would still think, feel, and live my poetry.  

Ethically

If you were to tear out my heart,  
What use would I have  
For the pen and the inkwell?
Nigdaw Dec 4
I proffered my hand in friendship
you grasped it like a lifeline
imbuing me with what you thought
a friend should be, expectations
far beyond my offer
of biscuits and a cuppa by PG
I still crave the flavour of your skin, though it brings me great pain,  
As the flames of desire flicker and sway, we’ll endeavour to endure,  
Clinging tightly beneath the blazing sun, in summer's fierce allure,  
Together, trying to brave the tempests, in love's unyielding pursuit.  

Dinner awaits us at eight – do not tarry; dreams lie upon your plate,  
Nourished by my affection, a sip of your soft skin grazes my lips;  
Each touch of yours leaves me lost, grappling with how to respond –  
Your wisdom eclipses my own, a realm I can scarcely comprehend.  
No man has truly kissed every maiden under the sun, yet the world  
Shrinks for those who cross paths with the echoes of their past flames.  
Relative justice; I strive to connect, yet potential lovers have slipped  
Through my fingers, leaving me a solitary figure, comforted by a hand.  

And this fills me with grief, a tempest of shame; distanced by anguish,  
Haunted by choices that replay like relentless echoes in my mind.  
I dread living solely for another's affection, yet I fear even more  
The withering of my own love, fading into the abyss of neglect.
Ariannah Nov 20
I've been watching you
Holding hands with her
The way I felt
I could never describe in words

Yet, I still hid from you
I looked devastated
And I still do
Wonder
What did she do
To get to hold hands with you.
Luna Nov 15
My thoughts became dangerous
Because I fell in love
I don't even know what their voice sounds like
But without them my heart is torn in half
I never touched their hand
Love is another mistake
All I know is that they have beautiful hair and nose
And that our hearts are not close
I think our souls are connected, but I'm afraid to admit it, so I wrote a poem about them
Mrs Timetable Nov 11
The perpetual state
Of heart break
Never heals
It just learns
To deal
What hand have you been dealt?
Ken Pepiton Oct 26
Spukhafte Fernwirkung//
-ping

On the morning
of March 16, 1968, American soldiers
from "C" Company came
into the village of My Lai…
-Conti's testimony, he stayed
Second tour he got arrested,
he was an armorer for First Cav,
I know a guy who knew him
when he got arrested, on duty.
About 1970, before Cambodia.
Back at the itch to think about 1968
from 16 MAR 68,
spooky was a DC3 with six miniguns,
spending nickles by the ton.
spukhafte Fernwirkung//
-ping

The next day, these toes
on the end
of me,
touched the tarmac
at Bien Hoa, beginning this memory
of instants, impressionistic
at best, something like YouTube shorts
taken
from chronological context
to fit the news between ads
for aging related aches and pains past
and present.
mehr spukhafte Fernwirkung//
-ping

In my 20 year old self,
in quest of lines showing duty done,
on my political career Résumé of fitness
to lead, to  me being mentored by Newt,
in American History, as he saw it, true,
Newt forsaw the EMP threat, and
scored an audience of told yous,
proud to have learned bullet
making after school… at the NRA clubhouse.
und mehr//
-ping ping ping

Triumphs and Indians, ' never saw a flathead Harley
until the summer of 1969, I saw the wreck, a Harley
wrung young Jimmie Hudgins neck, and he lived,
but he never went with us who did, and came back
as different as night and day, other people,
through and through,
truly on another trail, beyond the reason used in war.
fur spukhafte Fernwirkung
we took to spirit warring, with quarks
on our side, holding this thought

Pop, we inhabit bubbles as big as we imagine.
I long believed we live in bubbles of all we know.

I was wrong.
Become unmazed, unentangled, literally
free to define what you leave be true,
testy, feisty, wanna fight?
Or phuckaround with physics and spells,

Hallowed has meaning, yet, amen?

Even odds, live to the end…

Revelation
See, I had been infected,
seeing as I held
memories and lines,
I took for testimony Stephen Crane
put to ink, made me link that
now, not then, to a canvas,
Ms. Butler's Roll Call,
any
one approaching
the age where children are taken for war,

National Religio Significado duty accepted
as each pledged aliegiance, under God,
or else the communist spectre
brought unspeakable
horrors of HIROSHIMA!

Downwinder's loved to watch the flashes
- line on  crypto classification;
- subject locus south of river
On my DD 214, I was eligible to live on
Partaking of Largesse I earned by being
still alive and secretly, something
of National Pride Proving Passage right,
my nation, now,
pays me to breathe,
and learn until I die or ever happens,
Popt to your situation, reading
not involved,
after all
way beyond ever
after that revelation,

this is it, we did not die, nowhat,
Put on this mind, think these words,
you are you at last phaze myelination,
or your signals are phading,
but we got clear text 5 by 5, read on
seem
a survivor
of a specified exposure
to war,
a year, was deemed enough, and enough
to share
on circumstantial instances
when you think
okeh, what good could I do if
I accepted the truth
of the tree
of knowledge teaching only permanently

through experience passed through
and seen from this side… so then

I freely say, I know, what this is…
my life's cache of idle words, accounted for,
and activated
wise decision weighs against luck,
choosing liberal arts and sciences
to become a force made right
by the blood of Jesus to fight
any enemy
so declared,
by God's local employees
and the men He arranged
to be shaped
into wielders o
f carnal weapons, so awesome
cost for the risk not taken
2024 chances, short odds
of the answering invention's wise domain
above all answering witty inventions used

- to blow our little holy relics to dust

to make boys believe there is glory
found in fighting
for Nobel aspirations,
for asking noble questions, much glory
-+- does peace made
with words earn,
to deal with
all ra' adversity to intricately, functionally
beautiful towb be left to become the message.

God's chosen Nation's policy of people use.

{https://www.rct.uk/collection/405915/the-roll-call}
As Stephen Crane has been said to have said:
They come, I write them, that's all they mean until you read them
Stephen Crane
. In terms of style and inclinations, he borrowed from many categories but settled on none; he was a Romantic, an impressionist, a Symbolist, a naturalist, a realist, a Modernist.

oeuvre or opera,
operational patterns impressing
conscientious objects indelibly,
meme grit destined to be teardrop pearls.

A Man Said to the Universe

By Stephen Crane
A man said to the universe:
“Sir, I exist!”
“However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”

In the Desert

By Stephen Crane
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, *******,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;

“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”

Source: Twentieth-Century American Poetry (2004)
Savio Fonseca Oct 20
Be the Raindrops, that fall from above.
Bringing peace to Mother Earth.
Be the Clouds that hang in the Skies.
That shades Us right from Birth.
Think yourself, as the Morning Dew.
That brings green, to the Trees Around.
Be the Calm, that follows the Storm,
So the Water...Waves, without a Sound.
Smile like the Rainbow, After the Rains.
Let Sunrays, light up your Beautiful Soul.
Be that helping Hand, to those in need.
So Life....Loves U, on the Whole.
I feel akin to a monster
You should be proud
I am everything
I'm scared to say aloud

Frankenstein's design
Spectacle grotesque to behold
You are responsible
Making flesh cold

You should have caught this coming
Mold I tried to fit
I got angry when I couldn't
Destroyed it bit by bit

You attempted to shape my emotions
Arrange me a little more like you
It backfired and I mutated
Into a monstrosity mimicking your every move

I transformed in front of eyes
Metamorphosis we both took hard
What was pure and picturesque
Hideous and scarred

I now am an abomination
Too horrendous for sight to see
Patchwork quilt of faulty components
Sewn with insecurity

I was supposed to be built in your image
Your perfection I hardly resemble
Lost the sweetness of my youth
Silhouette alone reason to tremble

In your efforts to change me
Into creature of similar disposition
Pushed me far enough to snap
Past point of recognition

I look into mirror and gasp
Not comprehending reflection
Asking how someone could diverge
So drastically the wrong direction?

I've grown talons
Tentacles
Tusks
Replacing my human parts
I don't know how to undo the progression
Revert this revolting reprobate to how it was at the start

I once was a beauty
But became the thing I liked the least
Experiment got out of hand
Now all I will ever be is a beast
Written 1-18-19
Erwinism Oct 10
Must have seen you in a field,
the trampled grass your bed,
your eyes fixed on the sky,
and the sky hanging on blooming fire
and leaves of ashes eloping with autumn–tainted summer.
You didn’t stir,
if not for the fence time drove into the paper soil in between us the song of chaos will probably sing it’s ominous song in my ears.
Not an inch, did you move.

Your thoughts might have been that of your mama, on her porch steps for the hundreds of dinner that waited cold for you that year.
Your papa must have passed a ball to a glove without a hand to hold it up.
Your dear Anna must have been trembling as her heart skipped a beat reading letters written open-endedly.
The hills around you stood mortally wounded, weeping for their trees, still you slept in between those pages while your home collected dust on the shelves that so few of us care to visit.

Still your eyes were fixed on the sky. Unmoved by clouds. Unperturbed by dying sunshine. Shards and shrapnel of ideas burrowing deeper. I knew your lips wanted to part and utter wilting words,perhaps the heaviest word to bear—goodbye.

War has always been indifferent to life.
Next page