Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
neth jones May 19
011
sunrise                                                      ­   ­                                       
first optic pins toe-tipping play across the meadow
wind bends the forrest fringe west away
the trees adverse to receive
priestly daylight
after all the  
    business        
    completed    
during a most
competitive and predatory
                                                   night
brevity homework - personification
Angie Jul 2021
I.
she is quenchable
aching but yearns
to be held
to be fed
to be told
just come to bed

II.
peach crumb cake on the counter
she takes her time
consumes with limits
she feasts
tenderly
modestly

III.
i missed your voice
and i shouldn't say that
not to you
stupid
incomprehensible
intolerable
i think of your lips on mine
over and over all night
and my insides are
soft
squishy
intolerable

IV.
love is made here
in the sunlight in the kitchen
if she would not step foot here
it must not be her

V.
in the laundry room
she is his four paws and tiny nose
poking under the door
she is asking
"what u up 2?"
she is tails that wag and eyes wide
she is racing down the hallway
to the back door
back to the kitchen

VI.
he said he doesn't love her anymore
doesn't feel anything for her anymore
but his eyes glance through the neighborhood
towards her home, their home
his words always find their way back to her

VII.
she is patiently waiting at the front door
chilled wine and fruit
she already drew you a bath
there's rose petals in the water
there's candles across the floor
she doesn't ask to join
she just wishes you her best
tells you to relax and take your time
she is still just a concept
but she is warm and light and beautiful
she is always welcome here

VIII.
lukewarm coffee in the press
you silently watch me grab the ***
then tell me to turn around
you already made coffee this morning
and you tell me it's delicious
simply wonderful
and i am sipping it
on the front porch
it tastes like love used to live here
its been six years since i submitted anything here. we still doing this??
Shame is a man that I know well
He lingers near my bedroom doorway
Watching me undress
Scanning my movements
He documents my every transgression
So when the time is right
My guilt can be displayed
Shame is cunning that way

Shame is a woman that I cannot relate to
She calls me a ****
Woman attacking woman
Mocking the concept of sisterhood
Spitting on the idea of love
Destroying the human in all of us

Shame is an infectious disease
That I caught as a child
Deadly, contagious
Telling me lies, brutally outrageous
Like I am ugly and worthless
Like I am not enough
Shame is a toxic addiction
That we should all try to give up
shame is cunning that way
Khoi Apr 2021
Like dead cat's
in the tenth
all
our
chances spent
all
our
time lent
none out there
are
hell bent
Hannah Christina Mar 2021
An itchy spider lives in me,
right underneath my second skin.

She's waited, tense, expectantly for something dangerous
to finally draw towards her its claws and scratch straight down her spine.

Her fangs have naught to bite upon, so I must feed her well enough
on nerves, dry skin, and fingernails and songs about a violent sea.

If she dies, I might turn to stone;
an itchy spider lives in me.
little lion Feb 2021
My life has become a bit like a fishbowl:
the glass is thick and durable, it's supposed to
be smudge-proof, but you never fail to leave your finger-
prints behind. There are rocks at the bottom, a blend of neons:
blue and orange and pink and green and yellow, painted with the
cheap kind of paint that eventually chips away and gathers at the tip-top of the water...always mixing in with the the flimsy food flakes you toss in at mealtimes before watching with disinterested fascination as I swim to the top and sort through what's edible and what's not, as if the food is much better than the chips of paint and the dust bites that gather after a few days of sitting on the counter. My bowl stays in the sun as though the pink and purple fake plants you've given me require time spent in
the light to grow and prosper, although it is fun to check every
now and then to see how much you really care when I let
myself drift to the top of the water to bask in the glow
of either the sun or the artificial lamp that's been
placed next to my bowl. Some nights you
forget to turn it off, but I don't mind
so much because at least then I
can watch over you at night
the way you watch over
her, instead of me.
Henry Feb 2021
The horizon took a smoke break at sunset
And 7 hours later she's still gone
No doubt sleeping with the breeze
I stand on the deck in the darkness
Leaning forward
My hands on the rail
Gazing at the infinite mirror, reflecting
The air is as still and cold as the water
Just like the man next to me
He sighs but no vapor forms
He's cloaked in a blue shadow
Like the bottom of the ocean
A darker blue I've never seen
But in a voice clear as ice he asks
'Do you love me?'
I nod
'Not talking tonight?'
I nod
He rests his stygian blue fingers
On the back of my moon-light hand
And we kiss
Enjoying each other
Until the sun clocks in in the morning
2/1/21
The personification of the moon and the sea. Look up stygian blue it's very interesting and helps with the visual. ((This is also my 4th attempt at uploading this poem idk what's going on with the site but whatever))
Next page