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Kayla Gallant Dec 2018
We are much too young
To worry this much
About life
All that we have to offer
We carry around
In a suitcase
The size of a plum
Yet we worry
We will never be
Good enough
For them
The Gods who control us
Puppeteers in balcony seats
We are just passengers
In this brief carasoul
Of a lifetime
This is a rough draft of a poem I am working on. I would love to hear some feedback so I can improve my work. Thank you lovelies xo
Gray Jun 2018
I want to be an explorer!

The statement made my parents gasp, "Oh! The horror!"
They cry, "Be an author!"
They beg, "Be a lawyer!"

I want to be an explorer!
You are too old with not enough experience
JayceeJellies Nov 2016
A tear finds its way down my cheek
I smile and hide my face in a pilllow
It's been a somewhat long week
But now that it's coming to an end
And I know what's about to happen...
It's becoming so difficult for me to stay calm
Because my heart is turning to liquid.
Your voice simply melts it,
I can't begin to imagine how I'll react in person,
I'm nervous...
But I'm excited too.
There's no one else I'd rather be with than you.
Chelsea Winter Apr 2016
Everything that has been happening so far is finally turning out somewhat okay,
Or maybe that's just me thinking that it is.

Today I stopped writing poetry, and just listened to music, and checked out poetfreak because it's full of drama and it's weird. I really like that site and the feel of that place. It's just how I imagined my favorite poem to be.
This is kinda my first poem, so sorry if it is not a great one. I just have no talent. But I figured I could try to write something for starters.

Author's notes:
Corrected a typo on April 14th...
Added few more commas and a 'because' to the first sentence of the second stanza. Hoping it's perfect now. *crosses fingers*
To truly write
and transform what was once
sheer excrement
into a jewel
that others treasure
making so many wonder.

How I desire to achieve such.
Chano Williams Apr 2014
I don’t toss or turn in bed,
or even snore at all
I don’t wake you when I rise
but still, I don’t cook dinner

I tell you that I love you
once I see your eyes are open
I let you shower first,
but still, I don’t cook dinner

I clean the hairs in the sink,
put down the toilet seat,
place ***** clothes in the laundry
but still, I don’t cook dinner

I double-check the kids
make sure they’re all prepared
then hug them all goodbye
but still, I don’t cook dinner

I make your *** of coffee,
leave your keys where you can see,
let you leave the driveway first,
but still, I don’t cook dinner

I have your picture on my wall
that makes me smile every time
You love that diamond wedding ring
but still, I don’t cook dinner

I call you at your job
just to see how you’re doing
and let you know when I’ll be home
but still, I don’t cook dinner

I pick up our kids from school,
give all their friends rides home,
collect all the groceries,
but still, I don’t cook dinner

I tidy up our house
while their homework’s being done
Feed the fish, cat, dog, bird, snake, and tarantula,
but still, I don’t cook dinner

I let go of all my friends
that I talk to on AIM or MSN
Excited to hear you come in!
But still, I don’t cook dinner

I have the children wash their hands
as I set up the table
Also, I turn off the television,
but still, I don’t cook dinner

Everyone sits down to eat,
expecting a delightful treat
Suddenly you look at me and say,
“Hey, where’s the dinner?!”
Old School Poem
Ady Mar 2014
I've drowned before, in a literal sense of the word.
I, fancying myself adept, bored of shallow waters
dived in to the depths.
However, proving my pride quite wrong, the water
submersed me with its innate and temperate nature
to a world void of breath or zephyr.
I flailed my arms, and kicked my feet; but to the
sapphire liquid my efforts came quiet inept.
Understanding my current disposition, I left myself be
enveloped.
My lungs wailed and burned, the irony hardly lost,
and as I sank towards the muted pit of abysmal blue
I construed of Love's similar tactics.
Because now that I am drowning in the loveliness of
your undiluted singularity;
the resonance of sound, when around you, is dulled by
the  euphony of your voice,
my lungs have a lack of oxygen and the tilt of the colors
of the spectrum are vibrant and mesmerizing.
I've drowned before, in a metacognitive sense of the word.
I, more experienced, don't fancy myself a great swimmer,
because in the torrents of your sea, I am but a mariner
lost in the sublime beauty of exquisite waters.
Don't know if I like the title, perhaps I'll change it later?

— The End —