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Nat Lipstadt Dec 2023
Lay My Body Down

Sunday sipping my Hawaiian java,
the world’s end is hallmarked this weekend,
like hash marks on a old fashioned
wood ruler,
and unrequested and unbequested,
heady voices demand a retelling,
even a tallied
of 2023
the year I almost blew it.

took some pics, even a video,
of my-internals, and pronounced me
nearer my god than thee,
I was precisely, scientifically,
97% almost dead,
said the occultist
said see you tomorrow
for a haircut and a nip and tuck
upon thy heart

I was of good cheer,
not fully comprehending my walk on the edge,
never gave it too much thought,
which for a poet,
is just plain weird.

But this Sunday,
as I lay my body down,
thinking about “deadlines,”
all missed,
and are all still, cursing me,
residuals of 2022 & 2023,
which are carry on baggage
for the next trip through the
door of

and these words come jumbled and
we are out of time to sort
them better than this,
as I lay this body down,
one last time,
on the ruler’s edges edge,
the last hash mark nearly touched,
and almost
equidistant from this year and the
unmeasured blankness of a clean white sheet
of Next!


a good ole saying, a good ole lyric,
“lay my body down”
invokes image of spring water
a brook wash~flowing
over the shell of man
clothed in white linen shroud,

water of clarity crystalline,
taking a tour~trip with an itinerary
of (must-see!) sights,
cracks and crevices,
slats, slots and slits,
apertures and orifices,
groans and worry lines
accumulated this nearby past,
my body’s own poem


but I recall W.H. Auden’s words
about the revitalization quality of water,
and I decide to
baptize myself,
like recommissioning, retrofitting
an-old ship

(though I am a serious jew,
who knows nothing of this rite)

But fortunate seemed that

Day because of my dream, and enlightened,

And dearer,


than ever your voice as if
Glad—though goodness knows why—to run with the human race,
Wishing, I thought, the least of men their
Figures of splendor, their holy places.


in some places, you can follow the dotted lines,
on my physical container;
man-made marks from
exploration of my body,
now understanding these lines and holes
are a schoolboy’s
long division’s remainder,
(always annoying)
bits & pieces of him,
looking for a surety that one can
yet call it home,
one more year?

my interstices,
tween the manmade decorations
of medical foreplay
and the cri de coeur
of my mental anguish,
are life reminders,
I am
alive and still hurting,

could be worse.

Aug 22 11:44pm/Dec.31, 9:50am
mark soltero Apr 2021
streamy nights here
your heart beats so fast
we sweat
it doesn't matter when it's us
so much for you
the pulse of me
life in me defined
can be felt inside from within
i can finally see clearly here together
take me when i'm with you
and come with me wherever you'll go
here we lay down in the dark
moonlight cleanses our love
what i would do for our son
maria Apr 2021
Lay in bed with me
You said
And I
can do this
all day
March, 2021
© ,Maria
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
To lay with my head on your lap, was all I ever really wanted do.                                                              ­                                                                 ­                                                 
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­        A place where I can be safe.                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                                    A place where I can be warm.      
                                                     ­                                                                 ­                                                  Somewhere I can let every care float away from my mind.

When I am with you, even breathing has a sweetness, to it, that I can't begin to describe.
This poem was written in 2016. I'm not sure why it's formatted like that or how to fix it, but the format doesn't really change the meaning. :P
Alina Dec 2020
And she lay, draped across her bed letting her own chaos engulf her till she had drowned in it all.

Garrett Johnson Nov 2020
Watching the walls turn for colors.

Dead under eyes.
A stronger taste of Sulk and.
Morbidness entering.
The tiredness because why not.
Shaky legs for silence.

Garrett Johnson.
Monotnous saying other wise, nevermind Mindy.
Grace Butler Apr 2020
I lay awake laying next to you
Amidst the tears rolling down my cheeks
I hear you stir in your sleep
I lay here awake worried I woke you up
But hoping you’d notice my pain
I lay here awake, you fall back asleep
I lay here awake, tears down my face
Hussein Dekmak Apr 2020
When the sun sets, he lays to rest.
When she rises, his soul is reborn.

Hussein Dekmak
Edited 2
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