Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I had a dream last night
About suddenly waking up
But the dark had engulfed the light

Gone was the fight
Both sides giving up
On simple wrong and right

I'm awaken to a primitive plight
Ageing but not growing up
Somewhere out in the multiverse I might

Forget reaching the highest hight
It's not looking up
Not a single goal in sight

The futures not too bright
It's burning up
While we argue who hit ignite

It's too much to take onsite
No throwing up
Only ingest a small bite
Maybe it will be alright

©2025
~ Villanelle ~
A fixed-form poem consisting of five tercets and a quatrain, thus containing nineteen lines. A villanelle also follows a specific rhyme scheme using only two different sounds.
ABA (x5)
ABAA (x1)
~
The word Villanelle comes from the Italian word villanella, which means "rustic song or dance".
~
Like a never-ending plight, it seems,
A tempestuous fight, in endless dreams.
In the howl, in the echo's call,
In the night, where the stars enthrall.
The fight within, the rise after the fall,
Like a phoenix, destined to stand tall.
Never give up hope.
Debra Lea Ryan Jun 2024
It is ruddy  exhausting scribbling down
The thoughts  from overnight
Like it is some F'King Plight!

You think it is a Dream
Till you  Scream
I'm staying in Bed!
Get out of my F'King Head!

DLR
☀♥ƸӜƷ✿♬
The Life of a Poet with a Sense of Humour! Ha! Apology if the F Bomb upsets anyone.  It is not always me to let loose like this.  Perhaps I need to eh.
Jeremy Betts May 2024
Something doesn't feel right, could be that my head isn't ******* on tight
Could be that, try as I might, the absence of light shrouds the line between wrong and right
Hiding in plane sight but fright often forces the eyes closed, a blind plight
Never found the passion to ignite
Didn't think it possible to gaslight ones self outta spite
Never shined bright enough to conquer or at the very least scatter this proverbial night
Narrow vision and bad eyesight was my faley alright
Hit and fell through my rock bottom with the force of a meteorite
Bobbed instead of weaved and lost the fight, but not contrite
Many issues I'd like to extradite back to their day of origin, with new insight I'd like a full rewrite

©2024
Jeremy Betts Feb 2024
{expanded version}

If life was a day...
What would a day in the life look like?
Would you dream with no time to bring said dream to light?
With no time to heal would you put up a fight?
With little time to work on yourself would you even listen to another's plight?
It would eliminate the full spectrum of pain and hate
But the cycle of love and that connection would be on the same connecting flight
Couldn't enjoy the finer things, no more designer things
No time to trend, no time to reach that hight
Would there be time to worry about right and wrong, would you learn wrong from right?
I don't know...I might

©2024
~•§•~ Life in a Day ~•§•~
{original}
If life was a day...
What would a day in the life look like?

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4799791/life-in-a-day/
Jeremy Betts Dec 2023
Me against myself against I, a perpetual tie, not alright
Never try this darkness, it's destined to conquer light
It's the fault of the people close to me that my everything's bottled up air tight
Try as I might
Still pushed aside, out of sight

Me against myself against I, but who is right?
Do what I gotta do and what I gotta do is wake from this nightmare of a plight
No time to address it, either die in the ring or forfeit the fight
Despise the spotlight
Despite what you might think, I embrace the night

©2023
Steven Forrester Mar 2022
Iron gray storm clouds
Hug a ***** desert city
Gritty
With years of dust
And rust
Mistrust
And disgust
Heavy rain
Slaps against a grimy face
Leaving clean streaks in its place
A highlight
To the plight of the homeless
Thunder rolls forth
In this ironclad storm
Down here it's the norm
I find it soothing
Almost meditation
In form
Helps me inform
Myself
Oh well
Thoughts gone
Another monsoon
In Tucson
It's raining, and I'm people watching
The past two days were recklessly engorged with alcohol.
Intoxication has become habitual. Each weekend, drowning one's self in an illusion of joy and folly; The jester entertaining not Kings nor Queens, but the ****, the weak, to deceive the empty crowd in my mind that I matter to someone. But matter is fleeting and we, myself and the abyss, understand the plight of today; waking up to nothing-- the empty abyss for which I am well acquainted with. Simply put, I am revisiting my old home from a not so distant past. The only difference between then and now is the relentless bottoms of empty glasses and a false sense of security and composure.
1 page of my thoughts a day to prevent my head from exploding!
Ces Dec 2020
Like God, ever sought
Elusive, enigmatic
A puzzle of a million pieces
Or maybe, just maybe
A figment of imagination
Ah! The sorry plight of a human being
Always in constant need
Of meaning.
Next page