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El Jun 23
Like a bird who wanted to fly
behind the bars it cried.
In myself I hide,
the deepest fears inside.
i may run behind,
but im scared
i can’t.
will I be able to fly?
or afraid enough to try?
Fly.
Rowan Ayman Apr 2018
My feelings
Are trapped inside the wallet of my soul ,
And I'm so tight ****** .
My feelings.
Are kept safe in a safe,
Always afraid of thieves.
They are prisoners behind my rib cage,
Not for a crime,
They aren't colored in rage,
But I'm allergic to fake ones,
And I don't want mine to lose their truth.

My feelings.
I'm overprotective.
I don't want them to be taken for granted.
My darkest fear
Is them going to the wrong places.
Wrong hearts and fake faces.

My feelings.
Afraid to get excited.
See Excitement
Fills up the room with party balloons ,
And if it doesn't work out,
They'll pop up.
what a sound.
Cjf Dec 2016
but baby I can be something you need

I'm blind and the liquid fire that goes down my throat taste better than any kiss I've ever had
or maybe it just taste better than the bitterness
I want your lips
I crave you
I want see the Sun for the first time

I can feel you but I can't see you

but how is it that you make me feel
electric eccentric ecstatic
how do you light flames so bright I still can see them even when my eyes are closed
the ocean doesn't have a fighting chance against the wildfire you started within me

mend me into a cup so when you drink you think of me

you bring wildflowers into my dull forest green grass
I've never seen peonies and sunflowers
and daisys and hyrdrogenias
look so in peace
and you make my heart beat in time in what seems like forever
I could smell these flowers even after they died
and the Sun decided she was done with them
but I never cared much for flowers

when you leave idc what I'm remembered for I just want to be remembered*

if you go like the moon says good bye to his morning star
then please remember the way it felt at 21 to still believe some things would come back
and the Sun would say hello to her moon
before he left
trace the feel of your lips the way they form into smile
and remember the pattern
we're not ever getting 18 back
and I'll write you sweet nothings
on napkins I'll leave in a diner
where we once got ice cream
A Embers Jul 2016
Angry words linger
Lightly along the wafting smoke
Of cigarette puffs
Inhaled and absorb
Staining memory as lung.
if    you sing a moment   of  transaction
   or  the sudden  influx  of  a face   conjured
    to so many an  enterprise offered  for

    protest.   A hand's  insisting  tremor
   an   emptying  from  over  and  over  an  indication
   of  askance.

   A  counterfeit  I  cannot   grieve over   and  over.
   Its   renown   a  nearest   position /
               a   silhouette   from a  smokestack
      about  to be   sensed    out from a   customary
                strangeness.

         stranded in    a   lilt   of  a  becoming  word
    or   question   subtitling  a  frantic    enemy

      you --  panicking  all   across, a retailed
          fugitive   thing. You can   become   a plaza

     if   not   sing  but   exist  in the   district
  from    a humdrum  projection   fated,  tagged
       with  a  purebred  amount.  You  can
 
   will   it   so  /unbecoming of/ a   plaza   minused from     and  adhered   to   as  cacophonic
           only   in   newsprint here is  your performance
    of    a numbered  caution. Permit  you  to  be

     nominal,   going   into   without  purpose

            you   can   become   a   plaza
     if        I     pose    need  from     (y)earning
hear    me now as i say
  pilgrimed is the image
  unloosen
   yourself   into the wind
  as i *****
      for some
  sense of
     placeness in this
 vaudeville

      no more are
 the birds that
     sing and way past us
 already seconds
     in waning
    is the same permeable blue
tracking    up
   our curved  spines
and when      weakened
    falling at
     last

as multiple
    cities do -
i see   a line
      for  a stream uncollected,
 as      rain
     over     genuflected
  hills      will.
murf Jan 2016
This is my space
Here, I'm nobody
A different name
And all new identity

I can be myself
And I'll be judged
And it'll fair
Coz there will be no grudge

So here I'm
Expressing myself
Hear me, you,
And know your self?

This is my space
Here, I'm nobody
Still the same
Passion, love and tragedy
Unknown
the lament of fixity
gazes on stone, its death-fires  encircle
the slender body of the doting Sun.

this is our time spent again
when our days obdurately say
that our inimitable skies smell of
wet willow—

our time has come to sleep.
the soggy horizon closes its eyes
and darkness enters like a thief.
aureoles criss-cross into
touchable delineations.
i am closer to the Earth than I was once
before you, bared to profile
like a fruit pared by your teeth.

what awaits in the gleam of one's
waking is the fruitage of nondescript music flowering in my ear:
the curved entry of your breath,
receiving it, my ear's bell,
shaking the cathedrals and by the pews
of my somnolence,  a trespassing whirlwind, a dewdrop, trickles of flame.

are there lips, with there power enough
left to clench in their growing?
this den of such tender love,
when i roar ardently dressed as
  an admiral in sleep's sea,

i, mounting the waves of your body,
  dream of lions.
enduring quiet -
hands clasped sealing all tyrants,
a tumultuous poem.
the dawn of another
tempest and the twilight
of another's sleek extinction.

i roam freely
without fences so i could break
free with even speed.

this is where no men
traverse.
this is where everything
remains limitless.
this is where all fires
raze whatever has been uncovered
and deemed vulnerable.
this is where i imagine
realness and put to realities,
whatever is imagined.
this is where everything only
amounts so little,
and that in its smallness, i only
weave an immense thatch
for the asylum of these words
and watch them come to life...

it starts with a pencil of light
torching where silence beckons
and words writ strongly in
bold intent

and ends
where all of these syllabications
take their sojourns in one's mind,
pulsing with life and one with blood in the sinews of mind's faculty.

this is where i meander freely,
and everything exists
in illustrious wonder.
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