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Who am I?
It’s life’s greatest question.
Life’s biggest quest.
We go through life with this feeling.
The feeling of needing to know
But not fully knowing what we are missing.
People become anxious,
Anxious of not knowing their purpose.
They become scared,
Scared they will never know.
But the reality is,
Life’s beauty is in the unknown.
The journey of finding your purpose.
So enjoy it.
Enjoy the unknown.
Enjoy the mystery.
Because in the end,
Whether big or small,
You make an impact on this world.
eliana 1d
Why do i write?
To help me through the sleepless nights?
What do i gain?
A way to verbally share the pain.
How does it help?
Gives me a way to express myself.
Poetry gives me a way to share my many thoughts
and the many battles that I've fought.
Why do I write?
Just because it feels so right.
Marc Dillar Nov 2024
I am a droplet. Just a small droplet.

One day, I fell into a lake.
The water didn’t crave my presence,
but there I was—
falling.

With a soft smack, I broke the silence.
I shivered the surface and I started to send ripples outward.

Tiny waves fanned out toward the shore.
The lake barely remembered I had landed—
but I kept stretching and growing.
One ring, two rings, three rings…
Each of them was a promise slipping from the center,
making its way in a widening circle that brushed the skin of the water.

How many of these rings have I cast since the day I landed?

I have no idea.

Sometimes I think,
maybe the fish don’t care,
maybe the reeds just nod, in their indifferent sway,
and maybe the water laughs at my ambition.
Because who am I to think I can make any difference in this lake?

But isn’t it something—
how even a single droplet interrupted the calm?
How it pressed its will into the water and bent the shape of its surroundings?
How it insisted:
Look, I’m here, and the world has changed, however small.

Call it hubris.
Call it naive.

But here I am—
just a glistening speck, dreaming of shores I’ll never touch.
Hoping to be felt.
Knowing I might be lost, soaked up, swallowed,
lost to the lake before anyone even sees the last of my rings.

Because one day, my final ring will fade.
And the lake will still be there,
as if I had never fallen.

Still, I choose to believe—
that somewhere, I will make a lily quiver.
That somewhere, the landing of a dragonfly will shift because of me.
That one of my ripples will carry a story farther than I’ll ever know.

And maybe that’s all there is after all—
a brief moment
when stillness breaks
for a droplet
that dares to be
more than just wet.
Chrys Jul 13
It is in writing these words that we keep from falling apart
And maybe by imagining what good fortune the world has to offer
We convince ourselves we can make then real
Shane Jul 9
Someday I’ll be a watchmaker,
Who crafts the hands of time.
Shaped by steady labor,
Fulfilled by each design.

Someday I’ll meet the one who turns
My hours into gold.
Our time will tick — a flicker that burns,
With love both bright and bold.

Someday I’ll feel a happiness,
That keeps in step with time.
Each grain of sand falls into place,
As if each moment were mine.

Today I am no watchmaker,
The hours pass me by.
I hold no hands and give no time,
No joy remains inside.

But someday,
I'll make the time...
Anais Vionet Jul 5
I love a long holiday and as a general rule
you’ll find me out by a turquoise pool
cause it’s hot outside and I’m nobody's fool.

Closing my eyes I lazily daydream
listening to my favorite musical streams
umbrella shaded from harsh sunbeams.

I’ve put away polemic school assignments
for leisure and tastier desultory refinements
like buffalo wings, pizza and ***** martinis
and the barely there cool of a string bikini.
.
.
Songs for this:
Digging your scene by Ivy
The Big Sky (Special Single Mix) by Kate Bush
Can't Be Like This Forever by The Moving Stills
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 07/07/25:
Desultory = lacking in a plan or purpose
Years have just gone by,
What the hell is life, hey hi!
From rustling wind and steps to everest,
What remains now is a puzzled quest, isn't it?

Imagining the place to be down the busy lane,
Demeaning bask in the sun, dance in the rain.
Scrolling glittering pictures immersed in joy,
Craving of wannabes - a perfect ploy.

After climbing the top, after swimming till end,
Mr X went perplexed, just what to amend?
The shallowness within, the purpose of all,
Screamed the heaven, ROCK N ROLL - there is nothing at all, there is nothing at all !!
Maybe I don’t have a purpose.
Nothing bad has happened to me.
I’ve worked hard for everything I have now.
Maybe that’s to fix the dreams of the little girl,
Who had everything taken away from her.
Her room, her possessions, her ability to trust.
Nothing but broken promises.
Filling up her bubble of hope too many times.
If I had purpose, would I be able to expect my expectations?
I see nothing but disappointment in every human.
Is this real?
If I had purpose,
Maybe I would be fulfilled.
Maybe if I had purpose,
I would be well loved.
If I have purpose,
Maybe I would enjoy the world.
If I had purpose,
I would have company.
If I had purpose.
A greenish wonder; wrapped in white,
It gave a floral scent of sublime delight.
Plucked from life; it held a belle desire,
There it held the glamorous shire.

The purpose was lost; a withered corpse,
The vase remained; a ceramic coarse.
Depraved of soul; an empty gloom,
There was a vase in my room.
villiøn Jun 26
Teetering moons linger on the edge.
The desolate expanse cowers in fear.
Outside, an observer that refuses to intervene.

A wailing silence is born in the void.
It's screams descend into a chasm of chaos.
No more can I bear witness to the damnation.

The stars have sewn their eyes shut.
Condemning fate to an eternal madness.
A sorrowful ache burrows into my womb.

Everything yearns for my tenderly solace.
Their patience bound in endless slumber.
My children are born to chaos, forevermore.

Time, imbued in an infinite memory.
Grows beyond distant eons —
And consumes existence itself.
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