Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Solaluna Dec 2021
Our conversations are in capital letters,
Is it because we mean it?
Or maybe because we don't.
Are we just exaggerating,
To hide our truest intention?
Is your love for me a façade?
Bill Nellist Aug 2021
Fat across three ribs of a bright green leaf,
A dewdrop rolled onto my tongue beneath,
Served cold and fresh direct from nature's dish,
Filtered through limestone and the gills of fish,

This immortal moisture once ran like oil,
Down an ancestors back doubled in toil,
Laden with memory mossed on their tomb,
It nourished their children warm in the womb,

Through fauna and flora time and again,
Their essence combined recycled as rain,
A powerful force that dribbles and slings,
Dictating life to perishable things,

With a solution of all it has known,
Returned to the sea through everyone's home.
Jammit Janet Aug 2021
Love is my lifestyle of choice
It's definitely not easy
But it is my fuel
Powers my voice
Of reason
To act out of care
Speak with kindness
Carry enough compassion to spare
Man Jul 2021
it wasn't my intention to embarrass you
perhaps i acted rashly
but knowing what he said to you
made me livid, would it have been better to have treaded bashfully
i cannot stand for my friends to be treated so nastily
myself is another matter entirely
i have a problem letting things go
maybe i need to grow
living is tiring
stillhuman Mar 2021
There is something in the air
no more ice nor vampire lairs
The sun rules over night
and brings forth all things bright
And the flowers greet him with glee
all shining and rising among the ****
As the maiden smiles to her tummy
her child smiles back in the shape of a bunny
It's the breath of spring,
balance and growth with it brings
So let us blossom my dear
make our intention and power clear
Merry Ostara to all who celebrate. To those who don't, I wish you to blossom this spring
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Imagine, I'm laying in your bed. Beneath your covers.
On your pillow.
In your arms.
Imagine, you press your thumb to
my lower lip, and you can hear my heart
beating like a hammer.
You remake my ribcage with your fingertips, and
you teach me a new language with your mouth.
You touch me with intention.
Imagine, I let you. I uncurl.
Moonlight filters in through the window and pours over us. That silky-white illumination is reflected in your eyes and it touches
you so softly, I could scream.
And the exquisite truth of it all is,
that if you ever did get to touch me,
I think I would die.
This poem was written in 2016.
SquidInk Feb 2021
she was a rose in the hands of those who had no intention of keeping her
Mark Wanless Feb 2021
i call dogs to war
my mind is not innocent
mist    hard intention
annh Feb 2021
Offer sight to a blind man and he may refuse the notion,
Preferring to view the world through the lens of his heart;
Limited only by his own goodness and intention.

Or lack of it, as the case may be. :)

‘I don't think we did go blind, I think we are blind. Blind but seeing. Blind people who can see, but do not see.’
- Jose Saramago, Blindness
Next page