Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
No I will not write a poem
Obviously I will not
There’s no way anyone can make me
How come people keep trying
I know their efforts will fail
No matter how hard they try to
Great, now I’ve written a poem
The Vault Sep 10
A creak in the floor
Chills cover my skin
Once thought I was alone
Not anymore
Checking all corners
Not a single soul
But then the ceiling creaks
Telling me
This is not just my home
The books hold stories
Not only held by me
It is odd
How in the silence
You really hear
The oddly creaks
Anastasia Aug 15
When night  comes
And my common sense goes
I start to think
Unusual things
I start to feel
Strange feeling
I begin to love you
A little bit more
And it's awfully strange
But it happens every night
And I can't really tight
I hope that you
Will be in my dreams
Yes, these strange night emotions
Bursting at the seams
Anastasia Aug 14
Cherry on top
Cherry on bottom
My heart is sinking
Straight to the bottom
The crickets say
They are ashamed of me
And the mosquitos take their aim at me
Cherries are crushed
No longer sweet
Rotten and bitter
False retreat
Writing at night
Gives me strange thoughts
Cherry on bottom
Cherry on top
At night
Is messing
With my mind
Ryan V Jul 22
Give me the weirdos and heroes, give me those who are fearless in the face of complacency for they are the ones who crave so fiercely and face adversity rather than forfeit to conformity
kl May 17
If I speak only for the trees to hear, do I make a sound?
Will my words fall to the soil to be captured by their roots and transpired?
If you breathe in deep, will you consume the essence of my mind?

Or does it just get lost in space, never to be heard or known?
Thoughts and words that get planted with the trees but are never grown.

If I rip off the ivy will my tangled mind come unbound?
And will you then see my fears, my dreams and my longing to be desired?
Would you be wary of the wind throw and slough that you may find?

Or would you seek the new growth within the fallen and the blown?
A wilderness is chaos but it has beauty to be shown:

There is life in abundance between the canopy and the ground.
Stand there in stillness, listen to their story, and wisdom will be acquired.
Perhaps I will weave you a tale too, if I feel so inclined.

But, for now, you will find my thoughts in the snow, reflected and sown-
seeds in the air, evaporated and inhaled by some unknown.

In the sweet solitude of the woods will my musings be found?
I know that a tree listens and there's no effort for solace required,
So lets speak to the trees and hope our hearts and minds beat in kind.
i want to know what it's like
in those in-betweens

in between the stars
where it's impossibly quiet

in between light and dark
where the sun and moon sleep

in between me and you
where there's all the love in the world

in between my feet and the earth
where creatures might be

in between loving and hating
where there's a heart breaking

in between heaven and hell
where we live

in between the atoms of objects
what's in there?

in between is the most curious place to be,
it seems.
Next page