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We write
                   Sweet Del-
Usions
                 So that you
   Can live
Thr-
Ough them.
Anya Oct 1
From the moment
I could hear my grandfathers voice
Telling me legends and fables from his religion

To the time
My dad would
Make up tales
Of a pair of brothers
Just to get me to sit still
When my parents in a rare moment,
didn’t have
A book readily available

From the moment I was able
To hold a novel and breeze thought
Fluently with ease
After my parent’s ardorous task
Of getting me to practice

The days when my
Mind spent less time in the real
World and more time captivated
By those experiencing what I had not
But now, though their words, had

To today
Where my almost every
Free waking moment is spent
Either absorbing words
Of some romantic
Or fantastical story
Or,
Writing.
...
So basically...

Books
Stories
Novels
Words
...
This poem conveys it all
I don’t even have to say
What an integral part
Of me
They
Are
Anya Sep 25
In preschool it was drawing
In elementary school it was reading
In seventh grade it was anime
In eighth grade it was Manga
In freshman year it was Asian light novels
Now,
It’s poetry
...
What will it be next???
Finding love is to find unfamiliar beauty, noble and true,
pure in the eyesight, throughout duration before death,
a beauty that demands indulgence and conquers one’s
personal soul, their total being, consumed in every
pocket of essence. Stronger than the Devil. Oh lover,
I’m being torn apart beyond violent sobs in the corner
alone. In genius ways, it's like I’m being applied to evil
for when I’m cursed to be not around you. I vowed to
never write poetry again, if you accepted my hand.
Until then, I’m sure you’ll enjoy master of this world.
As the Devil runs riot and commits himself to his
own death, no longer able to rule earth.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtS0z4J0UWE
Untreated wonderlust,
For one who will never see
More than what can be found
In a the pages of a novel,
Who lives one life
But dreams of any other,
Is a grave danger indeed
Of never living at all.
©LadyRavenhill 2018
That blinking line mocks me
I can not move forward
nor can I reverse back
I am cemented in this moment of ambiguity

That blinking line mocks me
I have an idea of a destination
but with no path to follow
So I stay at the beginning tormented by the possibilities


But that blinking lines mocks me
My mind is a chaotic storm of ifs wheres and whats
But I have a story that must be told
It has a start and I'm revving to go
My thoughts trying to get anything written down-if you didn't get it the blinking line is the cursor line on a computer
Sudipta Maity Mar 15
Turning page after page,
searching web to web.
Reading books and novels,
prose and poems.
For some metaphors -
those were never been used in history
to portray feminine beauty.
No, they haven't left any
not even a single one.
Now, how shall I capture those deer like coal jet black eyes with so deep and calm stare?
Then how shall I portray those earrings hanging like bunches of berry touching her fine jaw line?
Which seems to be drawn by some Renaissance artist.
How will I draw her lipwing of rose petals, flamed like scarlet wine?
And that smile beneath the cheeks just like the before sunrise.
Or her hair, flowing like waterfall down her shoulders same as rocky mountain.
metaphore
Svode Nov 2017
H
These letters
placed onto this keyboard
are able to make art so beautiful
and novels so imaginative!
And this metal piece with keys on top,
can also make
h
More of a shitposty thing, still decided to share it because why not ;P
MollyValentine Oct 2017
The earth shatters again
and I,
believe too much in fate, I believe.
Quiet now, he walks in.
My Charlie Boy.

He is writing of me pretty words
everlasting
an **** girl, a *****
I love you so much I am worried it will be my demise,
My Good Charlie Boy.

I found the letters,
and I am not so bitter,
but Grey, he is.
Not Mine, are you, Charlie Boy?

My **** for the man.

Charlie died that night.
His beautiful ****** face,
the kindness of strangers far too profound
for they all said a gun was no way to go,
for my Dear Charlie Boy.
i miss you still, i think
-m.c.
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