Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
MCR Mar 2019
What’s the moment you stopped believing in god? “Honor thy father and mother,” are words literally written in stone - hanging in southern courthouses in glistening marble. Words that mean so much to people, they’ll die to protect them.

We take what mothers and fathers say as the gospel, because the gospel itself tells us to. But is there honor in the burdens we carry for them throughout our own lives? Is there honor in words that carry the weight of centuries of mothers and fathers?
Ink wraps its arms around an idea,
Tracing letters that act as messengers
Of hope sent from some remote area,
With defiance towards its challengers.

The ink once it’s written speaks its own voice,
Like a child set free from its parent’s pen.
The pen having etched its lines made its choice
To have its intent not matter again.

Caring for all these children in my head,
They mature the moment that they are penned.
As confidently as they each have fled,
They don’t reflect on me as I intend.

Each word is a child that I have let go,
The ink no more under the pen’s control,
Out in the world seeing what I don’t know,
But into these children I wrote my soul.
When I write something, I feel like a parent sending a child into the world on his own. I know what I wanted to impart, I tried my best, and I poured my soul into it, but how they are perceived, how they act, and how they interact with the world is out of my control.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Daisy Feb 2019
Your Heart Beats
The rhythm of my
                     first music
      Your touch
the first sense
                   of this world
       Your eyes
                   my
                        first
                               view
                    of love
the home I once knew
first poem of three inspired by motherhood
lover Feb 2019
life itself, perfect health
baby girl, all so well
'slipping through my fingers' like tiny shells
coastal disagreements
only overseas can tell
I'm not like you, though from the same womb
seashells on the shore, my waves don't flow any sympathy your way
when I'm before my time and
it's the small things that make me happy
"you can't save the world, you'll die trying"
tell the devil 'try me'
-99 and I'm the only 1 whose 19
what a commodity, 'teenage fantasy'
lost my prince but I've still got the dress-
code for depressed is a velvet robe
shining his light throughout the darkness
I've not been feeling myself,
can we spark this?
Can’t you see what you're doing to me?
I know you are aware from my increasing tumbles onto the floor.
Your constant backfire leading to my demise,
When all you need to do is change the oil.
Doctors say stress will **** you,
it’s scarier that you’re aware.
I wonder if this is what you want?
I wonder if you even care?
You say you don’t want yelling,
when there is peace it’s as if I’m not there,
when you want something your self-entitled ego that’s fed by your own blood tells you that you deserve more.
I see your age doing more and being grateful for less,
you get straight F’s while owning every electronic to exist,
still believing it isn’t fair.
You take all you can with not even a blink of empathy,
for what you want you will get.
not because we allow it, but because if we don’t; someone will.
If you don’t see what’s depraved with that,
then you’re part of the defeat,
Of what’s left of morals, humility and integrity.
My morning as a mother in this generation.
Mitch Prax Feb 2019
my baby girl
is like fresh laundry
straight out of the dryer-
so soft, so warm
so similar to home.
Chris Feb 2019
PG
Why do we need PG?
It's an ******* reality.
What will a child see?
*** and violence on TV?
There's *** and violence plenty more,
In schools, in alleys behind the store.
So let your children know the ropes,
So that you don't raise a corpse.
Let your children see ******* and killing, because it's natural. And kids, go, ****, don't wait until marriage, married *** ***** ***.
Next page