Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
eleanor prince Aug 2019
those eyes are scarred
from damaged winds
on pavement singed

rent scenes recite
a diatribe
how do you live

holes dirtied leak
torn shadows sigh
they shelter filth

you cull the heat
until dice turns
to excise rage

with scalpel sharp
reprieve in sight
a poor man's

At times we see old eyes pass us by, biding their time.  It may be on the street, in a bus or train.
Sometimes we see it in the mirror.  We know we would never do the deed. We seek to rise above injustice, to transform. But the primitive mind wants its moment, if only in mind ©
do you see me
from the trees the grow above me
that grow out to the vineyards
across the dirt-risen floor
yearning for the sunlight
to love once again
as I dwell on thoughts
coasting along the river
confessing out loud
to the dried sunflowers
and the ultralight beams
walking on water with
the thorns on my feet
calling out to heavens above.
© rainbows and sunshine 2018
Colm Mar 2017
Almost sweetly

So the clouds are near to me
And to you as well

Although we are not at this time
Standing right here or there beside

How these clouds smile back as they roll by
And tell us both to our surprise
That we are watching and watched over

Since long before we each sought after
That distant star in the summer sky

We are by ourselves and each other
Mere reflections in such skyward eyes
Colm Mar 2017
Listen to the howling wind
Not a whisper in the voice of it
An embodiment of all the aimlessness
And the chaos which was once within
This heaving chest
And beating heart
Which is now outside
Cold and lying bitter still  
And howling like mother nature had tanned its hide
Listen to such a wind as this
And you will understand what it is
And what it means to be trapped inside such bitterness
As the howling wind does speak of it
Bitter at none... Except myself
Colm Mar 2017
I* ill *advised
  Because there are some things
      Which time will not fix
         Nor heal, or mold, or meld within mind
            When they simply are what simply is
               That is something for which
                  Only you can decide
Declan Quinn Jul 2016
Life, ah sweet, beautiful life.
From the sunny days in happy company, joking, laughing, being thankful.
To the rainy days in grey misery, fighting against the wind.
The anxious wind that howls around my ears and bangs on the door of my psyche.
Begs me to let it in, coaxes me to move over and make room.
Sometimes I feel surrounded, it takes all my energy to hold the door.
So I lean my shoulder against the thin, weak portal to depression.
Praying to a God I don't hear to give me strength.
Today the sun is out, warming my skin,
But my bones are still cold.
SassyJ Feb 2016
Crossroads (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
== Crossroads ==
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Complexities we create

(Copy the link below to your browser)
Follow the link at:
Insatiable was the menu we served exclusively
The culinary gourmet, marked in Michelin stars
The 5 course preparation of paradise on a dish
The interval of forks, spoons, knives and platters
For I drool it all, still you can’t see the stained print
I reverse the stilled portrait and you stare amused
Tainted as the stringed moonlight crawled unearthed

Take this bulb, for I have smashed it see this bruise
The blooded finger prints, the imprint of fine justice
I breath the freshness of the mist but it evaporates
My mind cascading  to the pitted grounded roots
The sun rays blows to blind, its my lidded perspective
The unparalleled horizon casting on glittered aisle
Send them all home, the show is paused,cancelled

Reality is the diverse of confusing notions and illusions
A multiplication of complexities that we have created
The absolute happiness remains a psychological concept
The happen stance of nature entwined with freedom
To exist yet persist and bloom like a yeasted dough
Encircling reputations, reflections to heavy to bury
I come back home to announce a new found hope
Poetic T May 2015
I tried to hold on to life, my
Hands were clasped but
Nothing is ever really held.

Only touched, and like
Grain and wisps of smoke
It pasted through.

Momentarily I was captured,
It was within my being, then
As all things once again gone.
Daylight 4U2C Jan 2014
A wicked woman told my love, "**** him and you will be free."
My love paused, and the wicked woman's old twig of a finger pointed off to me.
Love walked to me with tearful eyes, as if she had no choice.
I smiled wryly and told her in the softness of my voice, "Let it be done, and be free.
No sword is long enough to show my love for thee. No dagger, short enough to match my heart's beat.
So please my love, take your choice of my death. Choose what would be fit."
She didn't hesitate, just cry. She, slowly lifting a mirror from the dust.
I don't know why I felt I must, but I wiped the tears away just to savor her touch.
I looked into her sad blue eyes, just for one more glance. Then I shut my own.
I could feel her lift the mirror, this was her chance, let it be known.
A crashing blankness came down on me, soon after the last things I heard.
"I'm moving up, and you're moving down." These were her last words.
I didn't understand them then, but now I think I know.
She will one day be in the warm light, while I'm still stuck in the cold indigo.
I'd always run up the down escalator, like a crazy kid.
She always said, one day I'd trip.
And now I finally did.

— The End —