Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Eric 13h
A room with a quiet light .
A space lit but very dim.
It's dust I see .
Apon the drapes , upon the tables.
It's past full of sin.
A step in , and the floors creak.
As window blows out , cold air seeps in.
Just waiting for that thunderstorm to begin.
Quiet was the feeling , so afraid to look up .
The ceiling on fire , filling one cup.
Hot and steaming across the room .
Stood a cup of tea half gone.
And that song ...
What song ...
Quiet wind it's gone .
Now music plays and there's a battle won .
A celebration of happiness beyond.
Sudden lights go out , dark prevails.
And screaming puts a knife to your throat.
Can't say no more, the quiet wind becomes a wail.
It's cold now and I need my coat .
To walk the world away from that room .
I have failed to see what I made my tomb.
Crystal Freda Jan 12
She lost her touch.
She lost her smile.
She hasn't been herself
in quite a long while.

Every day she'd look,
but all seemed gone.
She lay in bed
for all was wrong.

Her thoughts and actions
were not her at all.
She'd crumble at every step,
every mile, every fall.

She stayed this way
for a couple of years.
Waking up to sadness
and lying in tears.

After all this time
she wants to change things.
Let hope take a hold
and let happiness sting.

She will find her touch.
She will smile.
She will find herself,
but this time in a short while.
Willow Jan 7
“be love” she said
the words rolling off her lips
like sweet honey down a
glass jar

he wipes the remnants from her chin and smiles.

through the dusty window pane
opaqued by the loss of you
i muster the strength to look forward
as i always do

now the cobwebs have begun to clear,
and this glass will shine like
it once did
on a sunny Wednesday
Desire Dec 2018
I grew out my beard.
I grew out my stomach.
My ears ring randomly.  
My eyes see things differently.
I speak or say less.  I move in silence.
I sleep in when I want.
I haven't touched razors since my return
nor rifles since the field ops.
I've grown in maturity mentally.
I've grown insensitive verbally.
I've grown to miss the uniform
and pride of belonging in a brotherhood;
I miss my extended family.
I miss the people, not the troubles.
I miss the gym, where others alike
flexed invisible muscles.
My days once had routine,
pattern, structure and rhythm.
Weekends full of workouts, worship, and beer.
Weeks full of work, blood, sweat, and tears.
I've grown in experience.
I've regained freedom as a civilian.
But the transition has been a grueling process.
Yet, I've grown to be grateful nonetheless,
as not everyone gets to go back "home" ...
(remember the fallen) ...
However, if I'm honest, I don't think there's ever
an actual adjustment...
[I'm growing]
XLIII. Adapt and Overcome
The life of a Veteran
Random reflection
Daniel H Shulman Dec 2018
As my heart grew more enamored,
And as I felt this burning flame,
It was then I knew what mattered—
It was to give Beauty its name.

Her image would not go away,
But all the words I spoke would err,
So overcome I could not say
A description that suited her.

What should perfect Beauty be called?
There is no name that could suffice.
Overwhelmed I was too enthralled—
My language was too imprecise.

You simply are so beautiful,
That any name would be inapt.
Your Beauty makes my heart so full—
That I am speechlessly enrapt.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at
Lou Dec 2018
June 29th, 2017
It’s been 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
For 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
Count the acidic tree rings
Nearly 504;
A.m. eyes
On East Ferry,
in contrast of noir
I say, man;
June 29th, 2017.

It’s time to get a new calendar,
Cause I count 5,000 dollars later
and not a sense of a cent
was fined for my remorse.

I’ve been fine and fined.
Holes in my pockets
dropping seeds of change
planting fines

Into puddles
and potholes
showing deep interest
into the alignment of my car
stalling my engine with debts.

19,000 dollars and growing later;
I learned what trigger warnings cost
and ironically
I wrote a paper on it.

Don’t get me, wrong I am grateful
But, I had to rip holes
into all my jean pockets.
I mean, **** it,
I never had much going in
And I should quit smoking
My lighter is dead
Only blue and red
Sparks lived well in my mirrors
On, June 29th, 2017.

From the wall I was chained to,
I enrolled into college
My mom drove me home from my first class.
My lawyer wasn’t much of a lecturer,
He spoke math for 1,400 dollars

250 and 9 weeks.
106 a month for 52.

That’s enough math for this semester.

I drank with my night instructor on Mondays after 9,
He wanted to hear my music
We drank whiskey salted potholes on Allen
I counted his tree rings to 4/4 measure in regret;
20 years steady.

I graduated on a Tuesday morning,
I didn’t call him back to thank him for the irony.

I acknowledged our acidic rings
With glass cheered laughter
Swallowing thanks for each other’s company.
9 weeks and I don’t recall ever leaving the room.
43 went after,

And today life is that,
Paid for in lessons,
No need for pockets

I am those potholes
bumping coffee all over me
20 mins late to my first class.
I can repave them
but they won’t stay filled
It’s OK to want smoother roads to school.
I’m late but I’m here

I’m a mess.
******* would see art.
People have his eyes on me.
I want to be framed and splattered
on the walls of your home
A household mess .
It’s OK to have a passion.

Look into my tree rings
How old am I?
Its restorative to count
27 rings of rebirth
Look at me still growing
I believe I can grow in Paradise-lost fire
Or in Buffalo salt

I am my flaws
I counted them

My alcohol abuse,
One beat of 2,653 in 2017
I don’t know how to put an apology
On a music sheet.

The Jazz fills my potholes in the morning
before these hallways

My grey area is stained glass in Villas library,
Each step is eclectic
From shoe up and over is stand still art

Lighters flash cigarettes burning
But prints pictures of thankful new memories

With all of you in it.
Thank you for helping me with today’s date.
Its for a course I am taking in college. I hope this doesn't shade me as a fool. I'm kind of self-conscious of this one and hoping for feedback. Thanks.
Sabrina Dec 2018
Rise above
It all
Don't let anyone stop you
Not anymore
We won't fall
Let the rage take over you
Show them what you're made of
Show them the strength that's made you go up
Be the person
You've always wanted to be
Show them even though you've been through your own kind of ****,
You're still genuinely smiling.
i had a little lyricy tune i made up in my head and put it into a poem, this doesn't really apply to me but i'm sure it could inspire others :P
Pedro Vialle Nov 2018
Life used to be so simple,
but now I can't find my inner peace.
Loving used to feel so fine,
but now everything feels cold as ice.
I used to be so sure of me,
but now I am a pit of doubts.
So where all these paths go,
if they only go round and round?
How do I choose who am I going to be,
if I don't even know who am I now?
All this pressure, all this pain,
all for nothing as all stays the same.
But one day, I shall stop this heavy rain,
that makes me soggy and sad,
depressive and vain.
I shall rise like a rainbow,
leting all my colors out,
leaving all my pain,
and nothing will hold me down.
What happens when I get the bottle open?
When I'm strong enough to let it go?

all the hopes and dreams I once had
and I gain the knowledge to be free

What happens when I get the bottle open?

I stab the villain and not the innocent
finally slaying my demons
it's liberating
can't you see?

What happens when I get the bottle open?

I'll finally see the truth
maybe you will too
be happy for me
this is no set back

What happens when the bottle finally opens?

and all my dreams come true
I'm laying on the beach
as the crashing waves
consume me
so nicely

What happens when the bottle's open?

and there's no going back
like Pandora's box of bottles
and all that's left is to

What happens if the bottle's already open?

and I can't hide it anymore

I'm sorry
for wasting


but the bottle's been opened
and I can't waste this

not now

there is no strength to close it.
Next page