Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Kaitlin Evers Jun 2024
I know I'll miss these times once they're sung
The days are busy when they're so young
Little ones that pull on skirts,
Teeny ones held in your shirt

Selflessness we must meet, in order to be built
Recline in the sun's heat, spring flowers bloom and wilt

Everything in its time, these moments will pass
Change another bedsheet, sacrifice and submit
Slow and let your eyes meet, let these sweet moments sit
Everything in its time, these moments will pass

A love so natural, it will not be ignored
It flurries us to higher places and with the air it swings
A love so natural, it demands to be poured
So deep it actually aches, singing sweetly while it stings

Offenses laughable, their silly peccadillos I secretly smile at
Yet they are teachable, I'll raise them to face the world and evil to combat

Innocent little transgressions
My dearest little possessions
I rebuke, I correct, the love goes on, I'll cherish our time while here
Time feels ensconced, but with the dawn, our time will have disappeared
Jeremy Betts May 2024
The grand scheme, void of me, stands in stoic devotion
To zero compulsion
It holds no emotion
What a notion
I'm feelin' like a single plankton
In a vast ocean
Aimlessly floatin'
In a seemingly meaningless motion

©2023
Jeremy Betts May 2024
If I'm able
I'll cheer you on
If I'm capable
I'll clap for however long
If you need just a little
I'll whisper you a song
I'll crack a funny riddle
Just to hear you laugh along
I care so very little of the battle
You're right, I'm wrong
Don't be bashful
The night is long
Perfect days are doubtful
But we'll never doubt where we belong

©2024
Riz Mack Apr 2024
little thought, little
nudge, little step
little push, little
drop of confidence
little bucket to fill
little hush, little
conversation
little discourse
little smirk, little
understanding
little point, little
laugh, little soldiers
in little lines, little
waste, little fear
little lies, little
significance.
SAHIBA Apr 2024
lost count on
how many times i have wished for
"a little less pain "
in this life
Lydia Dec 2023
The way I tend to show my love is by making sure we have your favorite snacks in the cabinet and that your pillowcase is always fresh
It’s the little things for me
The little
flower was
content,
safe from
the winds
of the world,
then, the days
sprouted her
body upwards
to the sky,
she found
it tiresome
to grow while
the poet
of the world
painted the
leaves
golden
to green,
finally, she
can gently
sing for the
clouds as
life became
greater in
color and
beauty,
until the
white blanket
of heaven
takes her,
and, she
is reborn
in some
other time
and place.
George Krokos Nov 2023
One may have to sacrifice a lot just to gain only little
and what this will demand would be a big committal.
But when one sacrifices a little and happens to gain a lot
it could be a very fortunate life which that person has got.
_____
From 'The Quatrains' ongoing writings since the early 90's.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2023
The “little” Art I Possess

~writ for, inspired by, and warmly dedicated to
Kelly Rose Saccone~

“So an artist does…They say that often when you fill your walls with art you often forget it’s there and you don't absorb its beauty, but I enjoy what little art I have everyday. Sometimes it is just the color or the passion that hits me anew when I look at them.”
KRS

<~>

long ago the new~knowledge,
“newlodge” came brewing~infusing me;
art was not capable of being possessed

my reversal~eyes opened
the senses over~fulfilling,
body sensations brimming,

for I was the container,
only in temporary possession!

the art, in whatever the day’s chameleon guise,
is the professor-possessor, I am the missionary~emissary
remaindered by-product,
just
the vassal~vessel

when to gaze upon a poem~creation of years ago,
my expected mistakes appeared, a wee pride,
largesse of satisfaction, but these are frailties,
weaknesses, human misperceptions,
human ill-delusions!

never

ever was a poem among my possessions,
it was “in-sighted” within me
what was placed in my cupboard,
stored by my sensual conduits,
mine only to covey, not to covet,

art that tempest resides in as part,
a parcel in of the entirety of your body+soul composition,
but “out for delivery,”
seeded, stored & carry~birthed, given forth,
in a completed quantity
that’s so grand,
it takes five senses to truly comprehend!

it is pieces, a child of you,
recombinant,
you the birth sac,
how could ever be assessed as merely

little?

you are better understood to be a translator,
a temp~progenitor,
taking what all of nature and human experience
has installed on your inner walls, and then dispatched,
by you, gestated and unhesitatingly dispatched,

and when gift unwrapped from the plain brown paper of
our now orphaned belly skin,
it is to be hallelujah greeted,
for you, artist, translator, poem~mother,
have done you job, hallowed and sacrosanct,
and now the renewed giant emptiness,
will soon,
needy to be refilled, and
retransmitted once more:

this is no little, limited, mean feat,
your gifting is
beyond any words that limit,
no size constrains,
no words,
neither sufficient and insufficient,
you, are in loco parentis,
you’ve take what you/we are given,
beyond sizing,
and it seizes and is seized,
until you give it away
completed

and that is the grandest art .
inseminated within you,
true artistry!




7:42am
Fri Oct 27
2023
Next page