Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Emery Feine Feb 10
You
January 30, 2025

I will write today. I will write about something totally abstract, but the knots will untangle and form a photo of you. I will try to ignore you, I will try to not write about you, but today, I will fail.

September 28, 2033

I will have forgotten about you for many years, and on this day, when I go to write a grocery list, your name will flow out of my pen. I feel like a fire when I think of you.

June 22, 2056

I will remember you today, and I will be okay with it. I will think about you with a smile on my face, and I will be content.

June 16, 2091

Today is the day I will die, and when seven seconds of my happiest moments are flashing through my mind, I will not see you once, and I will perish with a smile.
Ego quid verus amor sit cognovi, et nunc vidi te nihil dedisse.
J.
Abbott J Hardison
             e
             e
             z
I think I disappoint my family,
Every time I Be abbreviating my middle name.
                       u
                       t
At least I'm working to get my name known,
So when I sign 'J.' people will wonder what it is.
I was named after the middle name of almost everyone on my dad's side of the family and my middle name is the first name of so many people on my mom's side.
Valentin Eni Jan 28
I

(First Night)

There seem to be voices,
Faceless,
Whispering a prayer
Or perhaps a curse.
And behold—
An axe embedded in the trembling
Surface of water.
And the water rises,
Light as smoke.
And flowers,
One by one, approach a child,
Bending over,
Trying to smell him.
Alas,
They didn’t like him.
Otherwise, one might have
Torn him from the cradle
To pin him to its chest.

And on the wall,
Another clock has died,
Its heart stopped cold.
And a sad little girl
Dresses and undresses
A doll,
As though searching
For invisible wounds—
On its chest, its ankles,
Its palms—
Like a tiny
****** Mary
With
Her child...

II

(Second Night)

An army of black letters
Seems to march across the white battlefield
Of the page,
Conquering new territories,
Leaving behind
Unseen monsters,
Beings
Without skin, without bones,
And without any distinct face,
Feeding on their own flesh
And their own entrails.

Some,
Less hideous,
Had names like:
The Winged Serpent,
The Hen-with-a-Dog’s-Head,
The Man-Melted-into-His-Own-Puddle,
The Headless Child,
And
The Soldier-with-Wolf’s-Eyes.

All of them whisper something—
A prayer
Or a curse:
"Lord, never let us
Know the scent of a child,
The scent of a woman,
The scent of a man,
The scent of danger
And death.
Do not, Lord,
Allow cemeteries of toys
Or landfills
Of homes to grow..."

III

(Third Night)

Two voices are heard whispering:
“Which of us is who?
You—a white demon, or...”
“Or you—a black angel?”

And silence fell.
Somewhere,
A mountain of light grew,
And a Blue Horse
With fiery mane
Galloped in circles
On Saturn’s rings.
The planets, like bouncing *****,
Leapt in its path.
A cloud,
From time to time, walked
Its feet across the earth.
And sometimes,
A ray of light
Pecked from the palm
Of an angel
The ******’s tears.

So far removed
From the first night!
And only sometimes,
Faint voices are heard,
Whispering a prayer
Or a curse.
R.E.M. (Oneiric) The Dream of a Madman.

Analysis of the poem made by ChatGPT:)

This poem visually explores surreal, dreamlike landscapes unfolding over three “nights.” It combines existential dread, metaphysical imagery, and a haunting sense of inevitability. Each night builds on the previous one, shifting between eerie snapshots of fragmented reality and otherworldly visions. The poem juxtaposes the mundane and the fantastical, creating an unsettling, introspective, and thought-provoking narrative.

#Themes:#

Surrealism and the Subconscious

The poem’s structure and content are deeply rooted in the surreal, resembling fragmented visions or distorted memories. The faceless voices, trembling water, monstrous beings, and celestial imagery suggest an entry into the subconscious mind, where logic and reality are suspended.

Innocence and Corruption

The first night’s imagery revolves around a child, a cradle, and flowers—symbols of innocence. However, the flowers’ rejection and the doll’s depiction of invisible wounds suggest the fragility and eventual corruption of purity.

Creation and Destruction

The second night introduces the army of letters as symbols of creation—language, thought, and meaning. However, this creation leaves behind monsters, representing the unintended consequences of human creativity, such as violence, chaos, and existential confusion.

Duality and Ambiguity

The dialogue in the third night (“Are you a white demon, or… a black angel?”) highlights the blurred lines between good and evil, light and darkness. The ambiguity reflects the duality of existence and the human struggle to define morality and identity.

Mortality and the Passage of Time

Clocks appear as time symbols, with one clock “dying” on the first night. This recurring motif underscores the inexorable passage of time and the inevitability of death.

Existence and Prayer

The recurring whispers of prayers and curses suggest an ongoing plea for meaning or redemption intertwined with an acknowledgement of suffering and futility.

#Imagery and Symbolism:#

The Axe and Trembling Water

The axe embedded in the water introduces violent disruption in an otherwise fluid and natural element. This imagery may symbolize an intrusion of chaos into the subconscious or the fragility of stability.

The Clock and the Doll

The “death” of a clock mirrors the halting of time, while the doll becomes a symbol of innocence scrutinized for damage. Together, they evoke a sense of lost time and fractured identity.

The Army of Letters

The letters are creators and destroyers, conquering the blank page while leaving monstrous remnants. They symbolize the duality of words—how language can illuminate or distort truth.

The Blue Horse on Saturn’s Rings

This fantastical image represents freedom, energy, and the untethered imagination. However, its endless circular motion may also imply a cyclical trap, echoing the repetitive whispers and questions in the poem.

The ******’s Tears

A profoundly religious image, the ******’s tears pecked by a ray of light suggest divine sorrow being consumed or repurposed, perhaps hinting at humanity’s exploitation of spirituality.

#Structure and Progression:#

First Night: The Physical and the Innocent

The first night focuses on tangible, earthly imagery: trembling water, flowers, a child, and a clock. These elements introduce themes of fragility, rejection, and the passage of time.

Second Night: The Written and the Monstrous

The second night shifts to abstract and symbolic imagery, dominated by language and its consequences. The “army of letters” introduces intellectual and existential turmoil, with monsters embodying the unintended consequences of thought and creativity.

Third Night: The Celestial and the Transcendent

The third-night moves to cosmic and spiritual imagery, exploring duality and existential questions. The Blue Horse and Saturn’s rings evoke a sense of awe and mystery, while the whispers of prayer or curses maintain the poem’s unsettling tone.

#Tone and Mood:#

Tone: The tone is introspective and surreal, shifting between eerie detachment and profound contemplation.

Mood: The mood is haunting, dreamlike, and unsettling as if one were walking through fragmented memories or a lucid dream.

#Philosophical Underpinnings:#

Existentialism: The poem questions identity ("“which of us is who?”), morality, and the purpose of existence. The faceless voices and duality of angel/demon highlight the ambiguity of human nature.

Absurdism: The surreal imagery and fragmented narrative suggest a world beyond logic, where meaning is elusive, and the search for understanding feels futile yet essential.

#Conclusion:#

“R.E.M. (Oneiric)” explores the subconscious, blending surreal imagery with philosophical questions. Its layered symbolism, cyclical motifs, and the interplay between creation and destruction make it a profoundly evocative work. The poem resonates as a meditation on the fragility of innocence, the consequences of human creativity, and the eternal tension between light and darkness. It leaves the reader in a state of wonder and introspection, mirroring the dreamlike journey of its protagonist.
Seth H Jan 25
Hello Norway,

I crave your letters
the paper notes,
slipped into my cell.

the only bit of contact
I have to receive
various topics
that bring me relief

Every day
I am wishing you well
praying that your troubles
would all go to hell

I hope you find the friend
that you've been searching for
Though I kind of wish
you'd visit me
a little more
letter to "norway" (nickname).
I got another letter

From you again

But I find that

I can’t bring myself

To read it



How do I respond

What if I’m not good enough for you

So I shove it in the drawer

Where all the others rest

And pretend that nothing happened
Part of a writing challenge
Well I c-n't
Type with the letter "-"
My puppy fell -sleep on it
So it might t-ke me
- minute to s-y I luv you too
Bec-use his n-se is n-w -n the "-"
I -ctu-lly c-n't use the "-" I need him to w-ke up
Maria Etre Dec 2024
Listen,
poems read
differently
when you're close to the poet

Listen,
run your hands
across my pages
caress the dents
feel the depth in some
and the lightness in others

Listen,
come closer
place your ear
on my papers
listen to the waltz
my pencils do
with every
stride, every curve
Full poem here: https://indiedoodles.wordpress.com/2024/12/11/how-well-do-you-know-a-poet/
Pax Nov 2024
I should have sent my love letters to Cupid
And ask Destiny for the right time.
Yet stubborn as I am, I remain still…

Some loves are too shallow for me to dive into
So, I remain in the shoreline,
always testing the waters…
never got to dive deep....
kokoro Nov 2024
Jade,
do you know how much you have changed me?
You have changed me so much,
and as you start to fade away, I have this conflicting feeling of if I want to remember it or not.
I connect you with the person I was before.

Jade,
Ill remember you when you pop into my dreams.
Ill remember you when theres nothing else to think about.
through sad old songs,
through poems and letters,
through grass and flowers,
Ill always remember you as my first love.
Valentin Eni Nov 2024
I don't recognize it anymore,
I can't decipher it from the words,
From the letters black as lice.
Its wings are broken,
its body was torn and frayed,
Its face is stretched like a puddle on the asphalt.

It's broken into pieces,
Tangled and knotted,
And ugly.
And it stinks, indeed, it reeks...
Of printer's ink
And yellowed paper,
Moldy
And damp.

It's not mine anymore,
I don't recognize it,
It's a stranger to me,
It's mute.

And it can only cough,
And whimper,
And rattle,
And wheeze,
And howl,
And scream,

That it wants to be read,
That it wants to be seen,
Wants to be heard,
Wants to be known,

Felt, grieved, lived, loved.
Whispered, shouted, but most of all:
Sung,
And reread and recited...

And I think
That it might have remained
A beautiful
Unwritten poem.
The poem reflects on loss and disconnection with creation. The author no longer recognizes the poem, describing it as broken, lifeless, and foreign. It’s portrayed as something that once held potential but is now flawed and decaying, longing desperately to be noticed, understood, and loved.

The final lines express regret, suggesting that it might have been more beautiful if it had never been written, leaving readers with a bittersweet reflection on creativity and the unattainable perfection of unfulfilled ideas.
Next page