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YY Jul 17
Tell me if Earth is flat or round,
She hears thin weeping willow's cry.
How planet was this built is too profound.

Tell me about the origins of life.
Where sky was dark, no sound,
Just glimpse of His first light.

Tell me about the waterfall of words
That tends to spill and drown
The valleys of my life.

Tell me about your sins and virtues.
The only truth I want to know
Is if they hurt you.

Tell me why quiet is your tongue,
And why the burden of this time
confusion and debation sprung.
Gorba Apr 26
I live in Sweden
But I was born and raised in France
From parents who came from Haiti
Which is a former colony of France
Where slaves were brought from Benin
(To feed the greed of French monarchs)
I speak French, English, Swedish, and can understand creole
I feel in French, think in English, listen in creole and live in Swedish
I love Florence, I am forever bound to Paris and have international friends
Being a French citizen means that I am European
Am I then also Dutch, Danish or German?
Does it really matter?
Am I not just another man?
A question to those who tell people to go back to their country.
Fred Feb 18
Out of nothing came a tree.
Not so age’d nor so young.
But with goodly branches spreading

In the center there, I sat.
On a nest of mystery spun.
Heart afraid of where it’s heading

Out of nothing came a sound.
Not a word nor melody.
Still. I hear it clearly singing

In a harmony I sit.
Out of nothing has it come.
From the nothing something ringing

Out of nothing came a stone
In my lap was white and round
That, my hand, is gently turning

Into nothing, will I go.
From the branches, stone and sound.
See, the nothing tree is burning
E H Edwards Aug 2019
I am from a book,
From LeapPads and iPhones.
I am from the green high house
Rebuilt.
It felt alive.
I am from the grass,
The sunflower,
Looming, yellow.
I'm from the big dinners and bigger hearts,
From Ginger and Brock,
And Sally and Bill.
I'm from teachers and artists,
From smelling pines and eating peas.
I'm from Catholics of England and Italy,
From soup and Shepard's pie.
I'm from Nana's lap,
The words of my mother
Next to the lake.
I am from my family
SMS Mar 2019
Purple and blue the sharpener
Was absolutely stunning.
Two holes, one for pencils and the other
For desperate child fingers.
At seven I didn’t know the consequences
of shoving my finger against that blade.
How could I have known that one
Sharp deep cut on my finger would
Entrap me in a world of self pain.
That, that day would continue over and
Over again for the next ten years.
A constant cycle of seeking solace from
Different types of metals.
On a quest for worth, in depthness of,
Not ones soul, but of superficial lines.
A mastered game of hide-and-carve
Deceitfully covering a plea for help.
Jonesy Feb 2019
No I'm not appointing blame,
My origins will never change,
But what was there for an eight year old to do.
I never felt wanted again after I was born,
There was a huge void in my spirit
My dad married and it seemed like he forgot about me,
I felt like I was scorn.
I was never helped with homework;
I became a novice
Never understood Maths, English or any prerequisites.

A mistake.
Yeah I get it.
But at least don't treat me like it.... Please.
My teacher (God rest her soul) took me under her wing,
Helped me with maths,religious education and English.
I slowly understood what I was missing:
Love, joy, sympathy and a family.
This quickly ended when she died though,
And that void came back.

I never saw my dad.
I might have slowly forgotten his features.
But that didn't bother me I was only ten by then,
And I was coming into myself:
I suffered depression and insecurities.
Many a day I would bury my head in a book
Not because I wanted to,
But because I wanted to make myself scarce so I could escape the hardships of my dysfunctional family.

Maybe reading was a good thing,
I reassured myself as I read through the encyclopedias in my small library;
Deciding that I'll read my problems away.
Mom was never around,
And daddy had a new family.
I'll just read the problems away.

I felt unwanted.
Mummy started going out every night,
At this time I had a five year old sister;
Of course mom hardly spent time with her.
I babysat her while missing homework assignments I never got helped with.
Because mummy went out every night.
Sometimes she came home
Sometimes she didnt
A fire kindled in my spirit made of anger
How could a mother do this to her young daughters.

Jonesy 2019 ©
As promised part 2 to my origins
Jonesy Feb 2019
Growing up as a child and a young teen was not the best,
The memories up to this day traumatize me:
I always remember the bad ones and never the rest.
Now don't take this as a sob story I don't take well to pity,
Just give me a few minutes to dwell
On a childhood that was anything but well.

It was the 29th day of March,
A long and eerie night
A miscarriage was near in sight
The doctor told her:
Its very possible that you will lose your baby
After hours of pain and blood loss
Came a bundle of joy with "cat eyes" that brought light to all a young mother's flaws.
It was a miracle.
"Its a baby girl, woah look at those eyes they are almost bioluminescent in the dark"
Parents could never be so proud to bring such a beautiful creature to the world.
"I wish all the best, to this little girl"

Life was great
But I wasn't truly welcomed
Some people my existence upset.
But as a baby and toddler, it was great all I had to do was breastfeed, cry and ****.
Then time happened and life became complicated.
My mom cheated (or was continuously cheating) and there was no preset
My dad wished there was a reset
And me... I was treated like an asset;
For money.
For **** sake my young years have been duped.


Jonesy 2019 ©
I want to start a new collection about realism in association with well origins. This will be the first poem of the collection; this collection entails basically my uncensored life story (and if u guys want to share your own life story too please do not be shy,  no judging) I hope you enjoy and look out for my next poem "Memorandum" coming soon.
Justyn Huang Jan 2019
If happiness were a simple thing
As they'd say,
"Catch a little birdie before
It flew away"

I'd be living in the trees to catch them
Everyday--

Too long above the world below
The dirt, the mirth and roots that grow

Forgotten then for how we came to
kiss: the sun, the sky, the clouds to know.
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