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Chelsea Quigley Dec 2023
He is gentle ,
Sleeping ,

Tossing and turning,

Voice unknown,
Only sound
That seems to linger.

Screaming ,
A dramatic temper.

He is unknown to me,
Blood as cold as ice.

No rhythm in my heart
When I look into his eyes.

But alas,
He is mine,
And mine he shall become.

For I am young,
And choose to be one with my son.
This poem is a short poem simply about the effects of birth and motherhood. How one may become distant to their child at first and the struggle behind that. But in time they adapt and find love for their son/daughter with support. If anyone is struggling with post partum depression/psychosis, you are heard. You will get through this.
Zywa May 2023
After today's four steps
I'm sitting in socks by the fireplace
My heavy boots are standing straight
and my back is still rattling

I am a henchman
I push the boundaries
of the ladies in love
and the rich gentlemen

I leave horse **** behind
and take the scent of freesias with me
The water in the bucket sloshes
like yearning love

I don't travel alone
We are armed
The papers are precious
Sealed letters

Beginning and maintaining
of relationships and major interests
Between the stops, the reins
of fate are in my hands
Four steps: four postal stops

Postilions (post-coachmen) wear heavy boots, to protect against getting jammed; these boots are named after the average distance between the posts (postal stops, relays): "bottes de sept lieues" ("seven-league boots")

Postillon d'amour = Post-coachman of love

Collection "Migration"
Ghxstcxt Jan 2023
Every thought I conjour is venomous
Specifically hot and pressed 'insensitive'
Literally lost in bottled hot headedness
Weighty when I slog a verbal cosh with these sentences
Hasty without thought at a cost to everybody's detriment
An onslaught with no relevance...
I wish I'd stopped...
If only I'd stopped...
Anais Vionet Feb 2022
(a billet-doux to HP)

4 minutes til (virtual) class
“Dang”, I think. I need to post today's poem!
I paste the poem, the title, the tags.
I have the sense that once the page says “saving draft” I’m *******.
So I quickly press save.. and..
502 bad gateway
“Argh,” I say under my breath, glancing at my clock.
I press refresh.
Do you want to submit the form?
Of **** course I want to resubmit - I press submit.. and..
502 bad gateway
“Oh my f-king GOD!” I yell at my iPad
I press refresh.
Do you want to resubmit?
Yes, yes, YES- I resubmit, I submit, I supplicate, I grovel.. and..
502 bad gateway
2 minutes
I scream a line of obscenity that would **** the Pope if he were here.
I refresh
One of my roommates inquired, “Are you ok?” from her room.
I resubmit and.. and.. and..
“Yes!” I yell, to reassure my roommate, “Website issues,”
it finally, finally posts.
A “Whoom” sound announces the start of my virtual class.
BLT word of the day challenge: billet-doux: is a love letter.
Please don’t tell me this has never happened to you.
Steve Page May 2021
Action without validation
without comparison by Instagram.
Experience not shared
not shown to those in the stands.
These events have value
even when not shared by you.
Secret acts are potent
so relish these moments
without posts.
Not everything off line lacks value.
Tiara Rivera Jan 2021
She’s afraid of her potential.
Looking at all those who seem to rise above their own shadows.
She’s afraid of falling down to the mist of the wind down beneath in the tunnel.
She’s afraid that she’ll prove herself wrong.
Proving she knows she’s capable of more.
She’s afraid of evolving.
Until she sees the beautiful light...
The light of her own reflection.
She knows deep down inside,
She is better.
mark soltero Oct 2020
sometimes I lay awake at night
and fixate on things I shouldn’t
whispers of my own transgressions linger

although it seems disingenuous
I am eager to fill the space
between this world and the old

please ward away the chilling breeze
make them apologize
because silence was one of my worst decrees
mark soltero Sep 2020
degrade me because you love me
infect me with your cancer
befoul my integrity
because i’ll do anything for attention
disillusioned with my charming grip
you lie awake
thinking of ways to let me down easy
you won’t be getting rid of me
because it’s me
im the malignancy
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