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Andy Denson Mar 22
really finding their peace.
in a zoom meeting.

tingaling with a feeling
from a screen.

if i stopped caring
people could bear
with me.

i see him spit
in
a hand-washing station.

my entry denied
over
a
face shield.

face shield. face shield.
a repeated mantra; standing there
still.
This poem explores the dissonance between virtual connections and physical realities during the pandemic era. The repetition of "face shield" emphasizes the absurdity and frustration of safety protocols, while the imagery of "tingaling with a feeling from a screen" captures the hollow resonance of digital interactions. The poem reflects on societal behaviors and personal detachment in unprecedented times.
Eve Mar 9
-the walls are mumbling again.
the syllables are different
but the words are always the same.

wondering, pliant fools
the ceiling tries to sleep
but it's all no use.

find me a rhythm.
find me real soon.

salvage the pieces
of my home-brewed
gloom, in my ears
haunting the depths of the halls.
forever a ghost,
an echo, a murmur in a scrawl.-
❔♟️🗝️🕸️
Eve Mar 10
god, i feel so unpretty
out of everyone's league
twenty-thousand pressing on top of me.

perhaps they are all too intimidated
by the siren who sinks, ill-fated
cursed by fatal beauty that leaves them fixated.

yet none brave the dive
seeing what may reside
in the depths of the briny tide
of my soul.
another ocean related poem :p
Arii Mar 17
Do you, too,
Look up at someone close
And wonder
How
They go about their journey
Without you?

Do you
Feel like you’re staring
Through frosted glass
At
some stranger
Who’s face
You’ve seen before?

Do you look up at the
Sky,
And see not a single
Star?

Do you
feel like you’re
Too close
To someone
you really love
But never really
Knew.

Do you?

Do you?

Is it just me
Or
do you,
too?
Is it finally over?
Living in fear
Of those I am supposed to trust
Breaking free of the cage
The latest prophesy reoccurring
I wondered what it meant
Could it just be a change in mindset?

Is it finally over?
Hiding who I truly am
Who WE truly are
Masking
Pretending
To be whole, to be one

Is it finally over?
Fearing we will have to hide forever
Wondering if anyone will ever believe us
Wondering if anyone will ever care

Was it a misunderstanding all along?
Were we isolating ourselves without reason
Believing it will be not different than the other times
Are they finally ready to listen?

Hope is a cruel thing
Please don’t hurt us again
Turns out we didn’t have to hide. They want to talk about it. I’m both petrified and elated. It’s not going to be like I hope it will. It never is. But we’re so, so tired of pretending
Nehal Mar 15
Baseless turmoil I have carried
       for you was faithless.
Aged me fine in my youth
       groundless.
No longer I was more sure
      about the lore.
No doubt it was offshore,
     I have to build my own floor.
Maryann I Mar 15
I left the door ajar,
just barely —
a silent plea beneath the noise
of “I’m fine” and
“I’m just tired.”

I wrapped my pain in quiet places,
hid the marks where no one looks —
beneath waistbands,
behind layers,
hoping someone might see past it
without me having to say it.

But every time someone got close,
I turned colder, sharper—
a defense disguised as indifference,
a fortress I hated living in
but couldn’t stop building higher.

They tried, I know they did—
friends with warm hands,
family with concerned eyes—
but I shrugged them off,
convinced I was doing them a favor
by being alone in the storm.

Now the room is quiet again,
the fabric sticks to skin,
and I still can’t say
what’s bleeding inside me.

The world just kept on spinning,
while I stayed stuck,
fading in the spaces between
genuine smiles and forced ones.
And in the end,
everyone seemed to give up
and leave me—
not out of malice,
but because they couldn’t reach
what I was too afraid to show.

But I feel it now,
the echo behind silence,
the weight of a choice unspoken—

this action will have consequences.
Syafie R Mar 14
The plate sits before me, brimming with light,
Yet I cannot partake in this feast of life.
The hunger is not born of flesh,
But a deep, gnawing void that swallows the soul.

It’s not that I lack—
But I recoil from the feast,
For each bite is a confrontation,
A war within my own skin,
An agonizing surrender to the unknown.

The world, a banquet of joy and color,
Serves me courses of hope and grace,
But I cannot consume what is offered.
Each morsel of love, each chance for joy,
I push away,
As if to touch it would fracture me further,
Unravel what little control I still feign to hold.

I starve not for food,
But for the courage to feast on life,
To swallow what is real,
Without fear that it will choke me,
Without fear that it will swallow me whole.

In the quiet spaces of my mind,
I am a ghost,
Floating above this world I once craved.
I am too numb to reach,
Too paralyzed to feel the warmth of the sun,
And so I exist—
Not living, not dying,
But simply suspended in this vast, unyielding void,
Where every dream is a phantom,
Every hope a cruel illusion,
And I am forever starving,
Yet unable to taste the life I’ve lost.
A sable veil, a crepuscular drape,
Wherein the soul, a phantom, finds its shape.
A nocturne played on strings of frayed despair,
A hollow resonance, a vacant, frigid air.
The mind, a labyrinth of obsidian hue,
Where phantoms dance, and truths are skewed anew.
A pallid moon, a sickly, waning gleam,
Reflects the void, a fractured, broken dream.
The heart, a sepulchre of frozen tears,
Where joy lies buried, choked by shadowed fears.
A silent requiem, a mournful, solemn chime,
For life's bright tapestry, consumed by creeping time.
The body, vessel frail, a spectral frame,
Endures the tempest, whispers not a name.
A brittle echo, in a vacant, vast domain,
Where solace flees, and only shadows reign.
A somber canvas, painted dark and deep,
Where anguished secrets, silently they sleep.
A cryptic cipher, etched in mournful prose,
Depression's shadow, where the spirit goes.
Themes & Mood:
* Depression, Despair, Melancholy: These are the foundational emotions. The "frayed despair," "vacant, frigid air," and "frozen tears" directly depict these states.
* Existentialism & Nihilism: The "void," "vacant, vast domain," and "brittle echo" suggest a sense of meaninglessness and the absence of inherent value.
* Loss & Grief: The "sepulchre of frozen tears" and "silent requiem" point to a deep sense of loss, likely of joy, hope, or even a sense of self.
* Isolation & Loneliness: The "phantom" soul, "vacant, vast domain," and "solace flees" emphasize the feeling of being utterly alone.
* Darkness, Void, Shadows: These are recurring motifs, representing the overwhelming presence of negative emotions and the absence of light and hope.
* Mourning & Requiem: The "silent requiem" explicitly states a sense of mourning, a formal lament for something lost.
* Anguish & Sorrow: The "anguished secrets" and overall tone of sadness convey deep emotional pain.
Imagery & Style:
* Gothic & Dark Poetry: The language is rich with dark imagery, creating a gothic atmosphere. Words like "sepulchre," "phantom," "spectral," and "nocturne" evoke a sense of darkness and decay.
* Symbolism & Metaphor:
   * "Sable veil" and "crepuscular drape" symbolize the obscuring of light and joy.
   * "Labyrinth of obsidian hue" represents the confused and trapped state of the mind.
   * "Sepulchre of frozen tears" symbolizes the heart as a place of buried emotions.
   * "strings of frayed despair" shows the breaking point of the emotional state.
* Imagery: The poem is visually evocative, painting a picture of a dark, desolate landscape.
* Nocturne & Crepuscular: These terms emphasize the twilight and night, times associated with darkness, mystery, and introspection.
* Phantom & Spectral: These words suggest a sense of unreality, a feeling of being disconnected from life.
* Labyrinth: representing the complicated and confusing nature of the mind.
* Sepulchre: A tomb, representing the death of emotions.
Emotional Tone:
* Sadness, Hopelessness, Desolation: These emotions permeate the entire poem, creating a sense of overwhelming despair.
* Fear: The "shadowed fears" and the overall sense of darkness contribute to a feeling of anxiety and dread.
* Loneliness: The isolation of the "phantom" soul and the "vacant, vast domain" emphasize the feeling of being utterly alone.
In essence, the poem creates a powerful and immersive experience of deep melancholy and existential despair by using vivid imagery, symbolic language, and a consistent tone of sadness and hopelessness. It is a testament to the power of language to convey the darkest corners of the human experience.
Malcolm Mar 11
Fingertip reaches—rose glass-fractured sky,
but the world keeps turning, indifferent, blind.
We watch, we wait, we sift through the fallen ashes—
searching for warmth in a fire long gone.

Ghosts of wanting drift through the ebb,
feet sinking in time’s marrow-thick river.
Clawing at the hilltop, slipping, gasping—
but do we climb or just fall slower?

Love hums then shatters,
echoes down corridors we dare not tread.
The oaken river swallows its dead,
birds fall southward, wings brittle with regret.

Winter comes for all—darkness too.
Light flickers, just out of reach,
a mirage for the desperate, the reckless,
those who still run, still chase, still bleed.

But what if the answers unravel the mind?
What if understanding breaks us instead?
What if we lose ourselves,
seeking someone else to make us whole?

Is life’s significance just a joke told in passing,
laughter drowned in the howl of the void?
If misery loves company,
why do so many stand alone?
Copyright Malcolm Gladwin
March 2025
Wanderers on the Edge
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