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There’s poetry on my walls
Brightening up the halls
I reread one every day
I survey the words as I lay on my bed
Thinking of what I could have written instead
So many words going through my head
In the end, I still place them back up on the wall
Some of them I end up crumpling into a ball
And ripping them off my wall
Then I recall
When I wrote them
And how I felt like a sparkling gem
I tape them back together
Straighten the creases
And taping the pieces
When I look at my wall
I no longer feel small
~21/3/21
Treat every piece of poetry as a precious gem. Because it is.
When the cold rain enters
it makes me remember
lifetimes of past Decembers
and their nasty embers.
Each drop a designer
momentary reminder
of a recreational resigner's
unchecked timer.
I am not reborn
in the rain's misty scorn
I see Satan's horns
in rain clouds formed.

Sensory recall
makes me fall
into the needle
of a lifestyle fetal
crying for my mommy
of a ****** haunting
my past life is flaunting
through raindrops upon me
their ripples are bombing
my mentality modeling
of the unguarded godly.

Inclement
in descent
in cement
mixed with saline
so I may dream
maiming Maybelline
makes me made to scream
drowning in memory
separating what's ahead of me
with the possible death of me
after a moment of leveling
water brings devil's wings.

I guess I'm like this forever
mainlined or severed
would've been much better
than stuck in the nether
between order and chaos
mortars of raindrops
show where my aim lost
and the insane cost
of the water in the syringe
raining into my veins
so I cry and I cringe
when it rains all the same.
Reza Sedghi Sep 2020
I died as i sip, the last inch drop of memories...
Tasteless, unfragrant, fragmented vacancies...

Recollecting, regulating the blurry negligible visions...
Recalling, rewriting, summarizing the Summaries

It felt like Treachery, disregarding this treasury...
life is a Memory, and then it is nullity...

Or at least that's what the wise man said...

We drown ourselves in each shot and swim out with a sigh
Sometimes with a gloom and sometimes with a smile

But in the end, both fades away,
And oh how quickly they fade away...

As if waves washing away our names written on the shore...
it fades out to presence, to sense another sore

sores, like old chest boxes, we dive deep in each,
swimming into it's memories, bone narrow they breached

like Leeches, we **** on our melancholy as we silently screech
watching pains as days turning to wrinkles, as closer we reach

We build our future, though we live for the past...
We all get obsessed and we all get attached...
We move forward to looking back trying to find a meaning...
But after all, Life is a memory, and then it is nothing...

Or at least that's what the wise man said
Been a long time since i haven't write anything, tried to keep up
Raul M Murray Jul 2020
A memory is fading
Like a plucked guitar string
Life is like music echoing
Leaving moments of loving
But existence is tough can be distressing
Recall is a flashback jogging
Of those days we we're fooling
Recollection of parties drinking
*** & coke £10 to go clubbing
A memory is a souvenir
Everyday a memory a premiere
Show God's cast a simper
Smiling is like sunshine in summer
Outnumbering grey matter of choler
Make the most of every premiere
May not be what the heart desire
Your smile can lift any soul higher
Transforming the human frontier
choler | ˈkɒlə |
noun [mass noun]
(in medieval science and medicine) one of the four ****** humours, identified with bile and believed to be associated with a peevish or irascible temperament. Also called yellow bile.
• archaic anger or irascibility.
Ming Jun 2020
I swallowed my saliva
Desiccated air
It was darker than the city
At urban’s edges pretty
First Prize Second
The ringer goes off in sequence
The theme park illuminated
Not with lights but with
The smell of anticipation
Holding our own
Felt like holding someone else’s
Our footsteps
Loud but drummed to the beat of another it paces
The Crusaders mediated
A brawling debut
Of words at the brim
Of our throats in disputes
Our silence
Unlike the night
Was warmer than an Afghan
20 kilometres felt like 2
When I am walking alongside
Hand not in hand
Alongside with you
A recollection of a night walk home with a newly made friend that I will remember forever. "Way Back Home" is a song by The Crusaders, it was the song we were listening to.
tmartin May 2020
words aren't insisting
to be enshrined in poems.
i'm forgetting you
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2020
Unseen
Unheard
Yet close to the heart

Everything
Reminds
Me
Of you

You are divine
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Your Worth
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2019
You
Are
Trending




In
My
Mind
Genre: Micro verse
Theme: Privileged
Author's Note:
He/She might not say
Anything casual

Expect something
Different
Calm to ears
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2019
आज तिमी
जस्तै देखे
भन्न मन थियो

म नै हो त्यो
भन्यै भने
बोल्ने शब्द थिएन
शैली : मुक्तक
विषय: यात्रा स्मृति
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