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Karishma Nov 24
Why do you fear the stars? They ask
Spiraling, I drink back the painful task
Of opening my soul to unscramble the poisonous puzzle
Daybreak to dusk, unraveling words that were a muffle

The thought of the stars tugs sentences out of my mouth like taut thread
I’m sleeping in the dark, in a stone cold bed
A magician out of practice, on impulse you dealt the cards
Your shadows haunt me, I’ve been jilted, I’m jarred

When an impostor spills His indigo ink all over the hazy canvas sky,
Two contrasting stars appear and ring out my tears whilst I cry
Unjust, unrequited- two stars, one far brighter, close but worlds apart
Daylight robbery, your basket my was my body and you left with my heart

Stars- a lover looms over me, I crave integrity, still under your spell
Consider it, but make not the home we have a hotel
Night is washing away into the day, we’re fading away
Secret suborn victim, my premonitions were no dismay

Maybe the stars meeting was a mistake, for the dimmest star dreams when it is awake
The brightest could solve many puzzles except the ones in her head, a lesson learned too late
I fear the stars because I know you’re under them too
A turned leaf, a shattered soul from red to
Nikita Oct 18
Pull me
Push me
Force me
And trap me

Build me
Create me
Destroy me
Lie to me

Wrap me
Seal me
Deliver me
And ship me

No matter how much
You try

No matter how much
It hurts

I will escape
Categories, labels and boxes. Don’t stifle who I am. I am not a women to be silenced.
Evie G 4d
Once upon a Christmas eve,
A family sat round a fire
Dad’s he’s late, he’s blaming Steve
Some cables needed to be rewired
A house he finds,
Is full of smiles,
So off he goes on his way.
Grabs baubles from the attic,
and also, grandmothers ****** investigation files

The child, eager with a sparkly blue notebook, rushes to peek inside
Crowe, it reads, Age 33, with thirty-three stabs to her side.
Oh how dramatic, Oh how fun what a wonderful thing he had brought
As seen on tv and on the big screen but never in this way before.
She stared at the words and pondered and scribed and found a new area of thought
Thinking of A Woman Dead!
But not that way of course, in the fun kind of way.
Didn’t think of the dead woman.

Now and then, the blue notebook sparkles out of the corner of my eye
I cradle the crumpled pages in my arms, the notes that I took.
The notes, cold, combined with my father’s colder memories
The good Damsel murdered by a bad ex-lover
An unfortunately common situation.
Another woman lost and alone,  
Another statistic.
Oh well.
This was something I wrote during a poetry workshop about my grandma but it kind became about more than that- I wrote this a while ago
Jade Jun 15
How I'd love
to spray paint the words
"*******!"
upon your white picket fence.

I will destroy
your every
perception
of
p̶e̶r̶f̶e̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶.

Oh,
pardon me.

I retract my statement--

we don't rhyme
where I'm from.
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!

Desktop Site: https://notapreciousgem.wixsite.com/tickledpurple/blog

Mobile Site: notapreciousgem.wixsite.com/purplemobile
PoserPersona May 12
What you wish can never be
For wicked hearts will alway beat
Find the gold between us all
or you too shall one day fall
Choderlos Apr 26
I'll go with you to the ends of time

We'll be together till eternity runs out

I'll find you beyond the oceans

I'll rescue you from the depths of the deepest seas

I'll be your sun in the night sky


Your glaring supernova in the daytime

Guide your feet above safe earth

I'll duel with your captors and set you free


Be your symphony when the singing birds flee

I'll synchronize your heartbeat with mine

Hold your gaze in my eye

That you may understand

As I'd scarcely allowed myself to hope

The weight of these words I so sparingly speak

That you will believe me

Is all I desire of you

That you will come running into my arms

Because these words are true

Come then, o come

Come to the one who loves you more

The end of your problems bitter and sour

Let's ride into the living sunset

Let's paint our lives with the rainbow

We will live like gods

We will make merry day and night

Sadness and sorrow will be out of sight

We will be the immortals of time

Forever has just began with the two of us
Flynn Apr 3
The climate we face
The comments about race
The isolation of many
The wealthy top 20
The animals disappearing
The extinction we're fearing
The communities pull apart
When they need to take part

In mending the world's bleeding heart.
/
Taylor Mar 22
Stop waiting for him to come back
The idealism only makes it harder to get over him sweetheart
something that i know many of us will relate to in ways we hope for things that are already gone
Zywa Mar 8
My good intentions have returned
undeliverable and broken, they stick
to me like a failed cake

encrusted to the baking tin
in an oven which is set too hot
Stone-hard charred crust

After weeks of rubbing the scratches
continue to itch in my soul, they scream
for attention and recognition



In the station hall, I listen for hours
to the playing of the piano, the messages
and the rustling

of the destination signs
which do not point me any direction
for a journey

to a better world
improvable with people
like me, strangers



At home I keep the curtains closed
the walls have no windows
and there is nothing I want to see
Collection “Moons”
Yash Jan 31
My heart beating alone in a Ghosttown, dhak dhak
The ringing phone in an empty house, ring ring
The dripping of water in an abandoned home, drip drop
The soft breeze rustling the curtains in an isolated place, swoosh.

My soul in a Ghosttown, cry.
Sylvia in her kitchen, cut.
Whitney in her bathtub, drug.
Lucy Jordan in her house, laugh.

My love in a Ghosttown
Hades in Tartarus
Hestia at the Hearth
Kitty Genovese in New York.

Adam and Eve in Eden.
Zeus and Hera at Olympus.
Marilyn and John in the White house.
A Ball, A Ballad, A Masquerade.

A Dove in Normandy.
An Olive branch in Kashmir.
A communist in America in 1940.
Dreamers & Idealists in existence.

Mahatma Gandhi in 1948.
John F. Kennedy in 1963.
Martin Luther King Jr. in 1968.
John Lennon in 1980.

Imagine
I have a dream that one day
we need men who can dream
where there is love, there if life.

A heart beating
beats of isolation.
A soul weeping
the tears of loneliness.

My Soul
My Love
My Heart
all in a Ghosttown.
This poem is ultimately about chronic and deep isolation and loneliness. A poem about the deprivation and lack of love from the person.
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