Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
دema flutter Jul 17
I look for beauty
even when it's dripping
in the corner of an alley
filled with all the monsters
underneath my bed
and inside my head.
Natalia May 15
Will you come meet me
At the horizon?
Past the willow trees,

Through the meadows,
Where their bodies
Rot and decompose.

The crows come to feast
On unspoken promises
And love that has ceased.

Now look ahead
Across the frozen lake,
Where few dare to tread,

Lest their disguise
Shatter and sink
Before sunken eyes

Beyond the wasteland
Of woes and lovers
You'll come to stand.

Where beats cry in the night
Woeful of those before
Now passing as mere wights.

Gazing at the cosmos,
I lie still
Having kept my soul close.

Will you come meet me
At the horizon
Past the willow trees?
Duckie Apr 10
Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And beg-BEG- for them to hurt me,
Pretend to love but actually hate me,
Romance me, only to ignore me-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And ask for their prayers,
Spill out my darkest confessions,
Grieve my past self to them-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And preach the importance of freedom,
Inform them of the world’s woes,
Bore them with politics-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And demand they save me,
Pause my loneliness before it turns foul,
Accompany me during my days-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And scream help, so the birds flee,
Becomes ever too powerful.

So powerful I recoil from human interactions,
Until I can perform the average conversation again.
Duckie Apr 10
Putrid smells of dirtied innocence,
A veil of eager stupidity,
Misfortune converts to violence,
Roots caged by the ashes
Of what once was,
My hometown of resilience- staled,
Replaced with glory seekers
Spewing words void of value,
Pickets of dishonesty,
Weekends of gloom,
Shame.
I feel foolish as I reside here,
Bleeding within the garden of thorns,
Punctured by the claw of the bird.
Duckie Apr 10
I see you in the drunken man on the bus, singing hits
from the 60s,
I hear you when a man near your age belittles me, over a
job he knows nothing about,
I feel you when that initial rejection from someone hits, craving
validation you failed to gift me,
craving to be enough,
I smell you as friends open bottles of cheap ale, a scent
embedded into my bloodstream,
I miss you when I see a father and his child playfully race in the
park over the road,
I'm always wanting what I don't have.
Duckie Apr 10
Berry trees fall glum
At snowfalls greeting; Ruby
No longer loves me.
Faltering plans
An indecisive mind,
Consistency in itself is an art
An explosive start!
Followed by;
Fumbling fingers and idiotic ideas.
What next?
Do we pitstop like Hamilton?
We were in pole position.
Reassert, focus and keep on track.
We are the drivers of our own Destiny...
©️ 2021 Joshua Reece Wylie. All rights reserved.

I've been trying to keep up one poem a day. It's tough. I'm sure other writers can relate. This poem is about trying to keep that target going. A Formula 1 racing theme was completely unintentional and off the cuff, but seemed to work nicely. So it stayed and I kinda like the end result. I hope you do too.
parker Mar 8
Everywhere I go
I watch the floor
Each crack and line memorized
as i scan them.
feet shuffle behind, scuffing them
leaving new marks to find


someone speaks.


my mind screams to look

but,
i cant.

theres the crack,
the spot,
the scuff,
and all words fall on deaf ears;
and my feet shuffle on

why does tile hold my mind?
why cant i look you in the eyes?
social anxiety makes it hard to talk to people
parker Mar 8
the bright light of the tv bleaches my eyes of any thought i ever conceived;  
A laugh track plays, as i slowly pull my chest to my knees.
my phone is screaming
and yelling
but i just leave it be.
I fuse to the couch and let darkness crawl over and cover me

until the roar of a laugh track sings me quietly to sleep
i use tv and other forms of media as escapism
Karolyn Jan 28
Isolation
Inundated with information and ideas
Impersonal in spite of abundance
A window, short on context or connection
Yearning for people and personality
Connection, a shot away
Next page