Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I remember joining,
Like it was only yesterday.
That letter of acceptance in my email,
I felt as if I was a master of writing.

But now it's been months,
And I've loved every minute.
For poetry was a fine wine I could not afford to enjoy,
Now I swim in it.
I just hit the 100 follower mark this morning, I can't believe it's been this long since I began my journey here.
To my dearest monsters,

  I hope this letter finds you on the brink of your doom, rotting away in your sinister cave. Because it's what evil like you deserves. To rot and woe, to know the pain of fading, before you fade away. Because your longevity is short lived, for most of you will die come first daylight.
  I hope you know, there is no home for you here. But if you try and build one, It will be burnt down. Every scrapped cinder and discarded log crushed to black dust. The substance of your soul, you're made of cinders, burning away at the human you once were. And if no one else will stand against you, know I will. Don't mess with fresh fire, lest you get burn away too.

                                                                                    Sincerely, I.
I refuse to be fooled by one of these again, I call to the writers of HP, let us make this a safe space for all writers.
1 4 3,
A code, lovers lived by.
One that never came to me
Something I could never be.

8 letters, just 8! My darling!
I couldn't hate it more,
How inefficient must one be
To use 8 letters 1-4-3,

This enlightenment I desire,
Wouldn't suffice words so short,
I shall spend 8 novels and me, entire,
Just to moor my boat on your port.

And then the world could be,
You, me and 8 letters in 1-4-3
Oskar Roux Feb 21
A letter to a lover
A letter to a friend
A letter to a foe
From a past you want to mend.

The rust colored paper
With water stains the width of eyes.
The bright red lips
Marking passion inside
Or the solemn calligraphy
Of a recipient unaware.
This box of unsent letters
Filled with that which won't be seen.

Worries that won't be said aloud
And thoughts that lay dead.
Emotions that once moved a pen,
Now lay dormant with no end.

You got those thoughts off your chest,
And to send it?
Well, you tried your best.
Your fingers tremble with hope and regret.
One day you'll send it
But not quite yet.

Hold tight dear friend
To your letter with secrets.
You wrote down the words you Just couldn't get out,
Timeless, yet dated.

They're words that once mattered
Things that stirred so deep.
Just write them down and put them in the box
Under the letters unsent,
Unaddressed beneath the massive heap.
The idea behind this was supposed to be "A letter never sent" For various reasons a letter never sent may tell many tales.
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.
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
Next page