Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ander Stone Mar 19
To tread the depths
of long promised
I long for those
forsaken ashes
of whom they
promised I would

To wade the shallows
of promises
and stolen childhoods,
in search of
broken glass
to cut away
the ribbons of blood,
and join in silent song
the ones fogotten.

To sink in frigid waves
of bloodied eyes
and shattered teeth,
in desperate need
of tethering.

To bleed away all warmth.

To let the floods
turn crimson,
and the skies rain rust.

To drown in the emptied
innocence of life.
Nat Lipstadt Feb 23
Francie Lynch gets it! (The Thin Red Line)

“A poem is like a tickle,
it gives both joy and pain:
with blissful tears and tearful
giggles, you'll read that poem again.

A poem is exactly like
a damaged heart in
need of surgery:
a cut that heals,
a line that
leaves a
scar along your heart.”
F. L.

now in possess
of said thin red line,
where they cut me
just so, opened
stem to stern
for a rethreading repair, a repaving
of the highways & byways of
my little blue engine that
almost but couldn’t quite could but thought…
b e l i e v i n g
it could eke by for a little longer

new observable routine,
first item of my daily rising
now includes a pre-diurnal poetic
an intro~introspection
of an
introductory, petite reflexive
of life’s mysteries,
like enjoying that
first bang of eye~opening conscious breath and a
disruptive need to spill
a few verbal beans before the
daily dead~lines of to do’s
strangle me into oblivion

a morning dispatched
by the poet paperboy
on his cardio bicycle

tearful eyes,
and many mirthful
gaggles of

a tickle

Mark Wanless Feb 23
large round red puddle
blood of the dog that bit me
i do feel better
I wish, I was a Rainbow Colour.
That defined My Life, at Night.
One that made Me look, a lot more Fuller.
One with which, I'd shine Bright.
Yellow is a Colour, that's Contagious,
It has a Smile, that's on a Boil.
It's the centre of Joy and Happiness.
A Life without Work and Toil.
In Red, I would look Bold and Handsome.
I would stand out, in the Crowd.
Warning all, When there's danger around,
I would move around, like a Cloud.
Green is a Colour that matches Nature,
I would be ready to Jet, Set....Go.
It is Zealous and has lot of Passion
Sky is the limit, l can Grow.
I would look Suave , if I was a White.
But actually I'm Black and Blue.
Life has painted Me with these 2 Colours
and I'm stuck to them like Glue.
Shofi Ahmed Feb 1
The wind on the flow
to all directions south and north
paints on the lotus blooms on the sea
down the sky in lapis lazuli blue.
My daughter Zubeda Maya
asks me on the go
did you capture this fabulous mo?

Oh, where shall I start to roll
the Red Sea in Hurghada Egypt
puts on thousand and one show!
Annie Jan 20
Is what I think of poker chips colliding
Across the rosewood furniture so smoothly they can’t breathe

A autumnal of gothic branches
Which bring back Massachusetts, blocking every passing beam

The fuzzy wilted leaf in your incisors
Which you found with rising horror on the night of our first date

A file containing years of conversation
Tucked away from memory to not be read again.
Contrast to "Reds" from earlier
Jeremy Betts Jan 12
It's my fault
It's my fault for thinking someone willing to lie from day one could be the one
It's my fault
It's my fault for thinking that my love would be worth someone's full attention
It's my fault
It's my fault for brushing off caution like, "it's not a red flag, iiiiit's more of a crimson"
It's my fault
It's my fault for being a coward when this time, maybe for the first time, there is no reason
It's my fault
It's my fault...fuuck's always my fault, I'm done..find another sucker to pick on

thepoeticwit Dec 2023
The fault with seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses is that we do not know when to stop.

When the lights at the crossroads flicker red, all we see is light, not colour.

We run, we hide in nostalgia’s walls, playing with the toys we grew out of, talking to the skeletons in our closet.

“Life is so strange,” we say, as though we are no stranger ourselves.

Romanticise, don’t realise
love is like hate
passion like anger, anxiety
and blood, just another fluid

Roses, red all the same

Wine, flows through oesophagus like water flowing like tears of the child’s sighs at night yearning for a relief of the pain of a

strange life

being no stranger ourselves

seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses

not knowing when to stop.
l i z a Nov 2023
What opportunity you were to me
You were a lesson I thought was luck
Allowed to dip myself into your sweet honey
Not realizing that I would be even more stuck.

The pain I’ve gained by playing your games
Had me come out knowing better, real from fake.
I had been too willing to please you
Wanting you to say “I need you”

Because otherwise how was I to prove I’m worthy
Before I realized you’re not meant to be my trophy.

I felt lucky to have you,
Because it felt good to have something
Until I realized the hurt isn't worth
Losing all of me over simply nothing.

I believed the red flags were tests
To prove myself more capable than the rest
Learned love should not be a battle
With my suffering a requisite
Nickols Oct 2023
You cant see
red flags
when wearing
rose-tinted glasses.
Next page