Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
WoeBegone May 28
Is a ray of light
Where ferruginous ducks
A million lullaby,
They sing.

And in the dark of night,
I have discovered
A Fragment
Of peace.

And by the lake I've seen
Memories of future,
And I have seen
As it should've been.
we each bought
a burrito from
that same van
i would visit back
when i lived there
two pork burritos
one with added
sweet potato
brazenly requested
the other simply
the expected guac
my overconfident request
should have cost more
than I was charged
but the man serving
could not bring himself
to demand the full cost
for "just" a burrito
we sat and ate
on the bank of the river
that i used to
think of as mine
we bit
we chewed
we swallowed
catching up
as napkin-less
salsa-dripping hands
were licked clean
and wiped dry
across the thighs of
already marred jeans
Kushal May 20
Where’s my whimsy and wonder?
There’s just fire and thunder.
Lost up in my head on every single blunder.

Did I do it wrong? Did I do it right?
I’ll stay up contemplating all night.

Never reach an answer,
But it’ll never leave my mind.
And through all this struggle, I realise I can’t find,
The wonder and whimsy I used to have inside.
The waking will shake you
But it won't **** you
And soon you'll be so taken with reality
That falling asleep will be a torturous task
The Kimbeaux May 1
A bird is just a bird.
It was real.

It was there
just being a bird
in a time of my distress.

It brought me joy,
but it was not mine.

The cat was just a cat.
It was real.

It was there
just being a cat
in my time of sadness.

It brought me joy,
but it was not mine.

My friend was just a friend.
We were real.

He was everywhere
just being a friend
in my time of loneliness.

He brought me joy,
but he was not mine.
Laying down upon the grass,
Morning Dew caressing my back,
I look upon the stars and
Manage a smile...

I know it's been so long,
Since I've heard your voice and song,
What I would give to live again,
To take me back awhile...

A single tear rolls down my cheek,
Mind full of words that I can't speak,
But every night I take myself
Into the past...

I remember that sweet taste,
Your rugged lips upon my face,
And every night I grasp your key
And ask god why...

When the morning sunrise comes
I hear the beating of the drums,
The way our hearts would always
Sound as one...

And when I wake upon the days
The very first words I must say
As I kiss the gift you gave
"stay with me..."
A poem I recently wrote in honor of my departed fiancé, who passed of a ****** overdose on October 16, 2013, a day I can never forget. We had the best times of our lives, and we had the worst times of our lives. But we LIVED and we LOVED. And every day,  I still think of you... on my 22nd birthday, he gave me a sterling silver key to propose to me. Sadly we never lasted long enough for him to buy me an actual ring... I miss you, chucky. Sleep in peace, my beloved.
Andy Chunn Apr 5
Sincerely spreading joy is a noble quest
Pursuing happiness, making others blessed
Reading cheerful words, seeing smiles all around
Everyone in harmony, happiness profound
Acting with kindness, spreading love with zest
Delighting in the joy, that we have expressed
Inviting others to join, in this quest of happiness
Nurturing kindness and compassion, our hearts do confess
Giving the gift of joy, and bringing hopefulness

Happily holding joy with all my might
As pleasant peaceful moments shining bright
Prepare me for life's uncertain ups and downs
Prolific plentiful blessings all around
Illuminating my pathway with lustrous light
New adventures waiting just out of sight
Endless reasons to laugh and smile and say
Success, in every moment of my day
Soothing serenity is in my heart to stay
Thomas W Case Mar 28
If in death
there were
dreams of divine
joy, and sublime
it wouldn't be
so bad.

Like the dreams
I had as a
little boy.
The ones, that upon
waking, I felt like
I'd been punched in
the stomach.
Heart sick, lonely as
an old hound,
howling in the

The dreams that felt
so real, I could taste
the sweetness of
my favorite candy on
my tongue.
I could feel the
handlebars of my
shiny new bike.
Feel the wind on
my face, as I
raced against time.

The dreams where I
could smell the
honeysuckle in that
beautiful girl's hair.
The one that loved
me, as we walked the
dew soaked Meadows,
and talked about
our lives together,
bobwhite's singing our
favorite songs.

No, death would not
be bad at all,
if we could dream.
This came to me in a writing prompt at a writer's group that I do at the public library. Strange how we get inspiration
Next page