Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
helia Feb 2021
i so thank the hands that crafted
the masterpiece that is you
and the red strings of fate
that has brought us together
thank the stars.
thank you.

may 6, 2020
muteD Jan 2021
I
am
at war.
with my heart and my brain.
my soul and my mind.
it’s a free for all battle
right in front of my eyes.
but instead of attacking each other,
they only attack me.

I can feel my heart beating.
Too hard.
Each pump pushes
not only the blood throughout my body
and the air in and out of my lungs
but it also
unleashes doses
of pain.
lethal in high amounts
and unfortunately for me
it feels like the whole bottle has been emptied into my system.
As I close my eyes, I can hear the words
my damaged heart whispers into my ear.

A plea for me
to cut away
all the ties
of this world
and to curl up
with the only one
I know means peace..
Me.

But, my brain is intent on interrupting those thoughts.
It has its own need to manipulate the feelings swirling inside of me.
It has its own agenda,
one where it leaves me standing over a ledge
overlooking my own downfall.
stranded and wondering,

why do I tear myself down?
because my mind tells me to.

the words that wiggle themselves down my eardrums have one and only one goal in mind.
and that is to torture me for the rest of my time.

and it’s working.

a storm is brewing within my head.
Rain and hail beat down on my brain
like they’re the hands
and my brain is the drum.

the sound it makes is enough to bring a man to his knees.

a beautiful masterpiece at the price of a life.

but I guess that’s okay
because that life never mattered anyways.

or so my mind tells me.

who am I to listen to, when both want me dead?
A heart that is tired of beating?
Or mind that is tired of thinking?

(Either way, I’m *******.)
I wrote this based off of a picture and I wish you his could see it .. but I’m in the process of launching my blog and I will have ALL of my recent poetry on there ..
Life always felt too short,
Like our plans exceeded time itself.
Longer was never long enough, I knew.
Half-truths turned into calamities forgotten on the shelf.

The importance of being free.
Absent from my own life,
Free myself from the gravity.

Just another masterpiece
Ending in a tragedy.
Namrata Mishra Jan 2021
You are a kaleidoscope my child

A glimpse into the multitude of colours

That shine brightly like the stars

Every angle that it is twisted in

Forms a new magnificent presence

Celebrate your mistakes today

For they are not what they seem

They celebrate you, a masterpiece
Dawn Oct 2020
𝑨 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆,
𝑨 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅.
𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍,
𝑨 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆.

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏,
𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒖𝒑.
𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑰'𝒎 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔,
𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕.

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈,
𝑺𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓-𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚.
𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒓𝒕,
𝑴𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒖𝒛𝒛𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆.
Isabella Oct 2020
Well-spoken, well-written
Talented, gifted
Driven and willing
Broken but healing
Confident, capable
Ambitious and able
Beautiful, striking
Uniquely enticing
Mind full of brilliance
Strong and resilient
Kind and persistent
Bright and ebullient
Selfless, joyful
Trusting and loyal

A masterpiece the world adores
For she is everything I'm not and more
Stalwart Dull Oct 2020
Five.. four..three... A life depends
When the last leaf fell,
His life will end
But one day he was getting well

Two..one.. A heavy rain happened
He asked his friend for the curtain to be opened
The last leaf is still there
But the one who made it is not anymore there

One.. it's still one
His life was saved by that old man
That masterpiece changed everything
It saves life because of that painting.
Inspired by the story: The last leaf
Meg Thompson Oct 2020
Part 1

Dream Silent Dreamer.
But dreams are not really silent are they?
I dream about a room; I dream about a place, where I am safe.
Safety is not an issue, where you are is it?
But really sir I just need to resolve this issue, I guess it is kind of *******.
I know, I know; this is not really how a poem is supposed to go.
But when I go through these dreams, I drift from room to place and
Place to room.
Float through the air, while you play with my hair;
You sit and you comb counting numbers and trees you wish you could see.
But down the street; children playing, this place, this place; this place is not safe.
But sir, sir what do you see, when you look into my eyes, when you stare at me?
But you tightly grip this fear, with whispers in my ear.
With a tight grip on my hand.
I show no fear, but secretly you do not know how scared I feel here.
So I am carried; I am asleep and I am awake; this hurts me, but should I say.
If I fight to leave you; will I be okay? Probably no; So, I will, just stay;
Too weak to fight anyway.

Part 2

I have butterflies in my stomach, I am no longer afraid.
My eyes have suffocated from the cold air.
I am here, with you. I have been clung to your arm.
I do not fight you, I belong with you.
You hold my hand; as the child within begins to climb out of my stomach and crawls out of my mouth. ;
As if it has left my body completely; I begin to shut these thoughts out.
You tell me you think I’m pretty.
As a half smile begins to cross my face.
But this pain, it glistens.
And it is beautiful in a way.

Part 3

My hope shatters like a rock thrown through glass; the sound of it breaking.
I have just realized you may have felt my hand shaking;
Your grip has tightened but suddenly loosens.
You open the car door and I slide in.
Seat belt on; you move to the other side of the car.
We are on the road and you give me a drink.
And next thing I know I have fallen asleep.
In the backseat, my hands are bound.
Lying down in the back seat, I do not make a sound.
I see you peer through the rear view mirror.
I go back to sleep.
As the music is blaring loud, I fade away from my old life now.
It isn’t as if I needed it anyway.

Part 4

Carried inside, can barely open my eyes;
I feel your grip tighten around my neck and thighs.
I know I will be okay, I know I will be alright.

Part 5

I see a room, eyes barely open
I squint them; to see clearer.
Where am I?
Lying on a mattress, cement walls.
These are here again; blankets in the corner;
And there’s a heater by the top window.

Part 6

The ceiling above me doesn’t feel so low anymore;
But this room feels so cold.
To be in your arms, is my dream.
I can no longer dream of flowers, or daises;
Because it has become so lonely here and I wonder when the next time you will be back;
In these glaciers; fire will burst.
I put the blanket tucked behind my shoulder, covering my knees and feet.
It seems as if my aching to be held has gotten the best of me.
The sound of silence; have been like bubbles popping and crawling in my skin like a disease.
I want to hear your footsteps; my heart skips; waiting, listening.
My arms, my hands feel like grazing for your touch, but instead I sink on this mattress on this cement floor, close my eyes.
I sleep like the dead.

Part 7

I see the sky and it’s full of darkness in my mind.
Reminiscing of my first love and the way it was back then.
I still wonder if this will ever end, like hurt and sorrow.
I don’t know if I can make it through another tomorrow.
I dream of angels.
I aim for your heart, and even though it is too soon to tell,
I highly doubt we will ever part.

Part 8

You use me but it’s okay.
Because I get to leave my room these days,
It seems pretty cold and gloomy out,
Even so, my heart,
Even though I can move about,
I eat with you but sometimes have to go back.
I get hugs sometimes, I feel loved sometimes.
Suppose, suppose, better than feeling empty I suppose.

Part 9

I want to be your secret.
I want to be your dream; I want to be in your heart.
And everything leads to me; I’ll hide in a room with a lock and a key.
I’ll hide out in the darkness, and when the light comes on.
You’ll hold me until I’m sleeping and;
As I am falling asleep you will read King or Nabokov to me.
But I’ll feel safe as I’m drifting to sleep, You can keep me close.;
And your grip will loosen. And I will drift asleep.

Part 10

I have learned how to make you smile.
You tell me jokes every once in a while.
Sometimes we talk and sometimes we are quiet.
We sit in the living room and watch TV.
Sometimes you hold me til we fall asleep.
But when you are at work I’m stuck in my room but I quietly wait until you come home.

Part 11

You keep using me, every day.
It sometimes hurts, but is sometimes okay.
Once it’s done, we start talking again.
But you know these things come back again.
But you don’t know, this is a masterpiece untold.
This is a masterpiece untold and somehow you have entered the sheets of gold where the heart turns to stone and his voice would make me weak.
I’d build this fort; I’d build it out of sheets.
This heart, this heart was made of gold.
But this heart was turned to stone when it was molded, formed into a shape and forced to feel something maybe it wasn’t meant to feel.
But who could have known; who could have known?
If I knew what’s real?
So I turned it around.
Now you hear the sound of my body crumbling down.
What to do when the sun shines, and I want to go outside.
I know everyone needs some light sometimes.
Can I close my eyes, can I shut my mind off?
Can you hold me until the time runs out?
Can you calm the darkness that storms in us;
Because the lightning is starting to shock us.
I know inside you want me happy to,
Cause you want me to stay with you.
It may be forever to.
But sometimes I am just going to fall,
And here you are staring, watching me crawl.
So here you are with your wings, but nothing is ever what it seems to mean.
So if I pretend this is all a dream and I wake up from my mind and see.
That the world isn’t all it should be.
Should I then close my eyes and go back to sleep.
Sleep to this world that has nothing for me.
Because the world’s heart is black and dusty.
But everyone doesn’t know that our hearts are rusting.

Part 12

So I’ll dream of another tomorrow, even though I didn’t know I could.
And I’ll live my life like I should,
Discovering all my hopes and dreams,
Not everything closes up at the seams.
Like dreams falling on empty and people’s trust withering.
But you keep me safe and sound, with no harm could be done in this place I stay now.
But if I had changed and done as I was going to say.
And I ran away, being forced to change.
Things would become different; they wouldn’t stay the same.

Part 13

This is the end.
This is the end, my friend.
This is where my masterpiece comes to end,
Where sheets of cold turn to gold, where do I see where my heart stands.
Follow me into the darkness; follow me into your mind, into your heart.
Come with me, you will see; how dark the monsters of our hearts can be.
Follow me, follow me.
This is the end you see, so.
Follow me.
Big Virge Oct 2020
So When It Comes To Poetry...
What Really Can Be Deemed...
To Be A... " MASTERPIECE "... ?!?

A Really COOL HAIKU...
Where Words Number A FEW... !?!

Or A Poetic... Stanza...
With IMPERVIOUS Data...
That HITS Like A Gun Clapper... !!!

Or Verses That SHATTER...
A Readers BRAIN MATTER... !!!

Because Of Wordplay...
That’s TRUTHFUL And BRAVE...
On Subjects That Make...
Most Writers AFRAID... !?!

Or Masterpieces Releasing.....
The PLAINEST of Speaking...
And TRUE DEPTH of MEANING... ?!?

Or... Poetry Seeking... ?
To BREAK Through Glass Ceilings... !!!

Where Judgements Are Made...
About... What Is Claimed...
To Be A... " Masterpiece "...

Are Judges Like THESE...
Those... TRULY WORTHY...
of KNOWLEDGE And WISDOM...
About... ALL Words Written... ?!?

Are They REALLY Objective...
About Words That They Credit....
As Being … IMPRESSIVE... ?!?


Is A Masterpiece Short...
Or... Can It Be LONG... ???

Can A Poem Be Thought...
To Have Masterpiece Form... ?!?

Like That of A Painting...
Because of Its CADENCE...
And POETIC Statements... ???

AND.............

Whose Mind Can Decide... ?!?
What It Is That DEFINES..
A... MASTERFUL Piece...
of Verse And Poetry... ???

And What About WRITERS... ?
Do We REALLY ASPIRE...
To Have Our Written Works...
Be Seen As GREAT VERSE... ?!?

Or As A MASTERPIECE...
of A... Poetic Breed... ?!?

Sounds Like EGO To Me... !!!
I’d Rather Inspire Young People To READ...
And Write REALITY Within Their Poetry... !!!

That ENSURES LEGACIES...
of Words With... Qualities...
That Breed MORE UNITY...
That Have POSITIVE Impacts...
On... HUMANITY... !!!

Because THAT HONESTLY...
Would Be The Kind of FEAT...
That I TRULY Would See...

As Something That Could Be...
A POETIC Piece of GREAT Artistry... !!!

That Indeed Could Be Deemed...

As A REAL...

..... “ MASTERPIECE “..... !!!
Inspired by the idea that artists/writers strive to create masterpieces.....
However, do they, and what and who, gets to decide what is, or, isn't one ?
Next page