Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
If life was a career then,
We were at our height
From the hallowed high school hallways
To the Hollywood nights.
Acting like it’s our birthright
Called ourselves “mid flight”.
Destination unknown
It never mattered where we landed
Because Saturday night was our own.

Link up at the skate rink,
I see Teresa, I fake wink
There’s some drama starting in the parking lot
But it’s mostly dudes who just talk a lot.
****, we would show off our fashion,
Posted up on the wall for all the see
They all wanted to show love, stand next to you and me.
But that was never our scene.
Yeah, we had different passions.

Aw yeah, picking up girls to be romantic.
They swore they saw through our antics.
We laughed it off, then trashed the mall,
Then drove to the Atlantic.

Aw, the OC waves.
Those were some good days.
Then it happened in a flash.
Your reign ended in a car crash.
Now I’m smokin’, thinking of the ordeal.
I love you, my soul for real.
A chance reflection
On a rain-kissed pane
I look at the wretch
With such disdain
Aidan May 6
To what do we owe lives
Or should I say to whom do we owe our lives.

There is a time and place that we should be reflecting on something like this and I feel that during this strange event,
we should take advantage of it.

To whom are we loyal to
Our families
Our friends
Our values
Our morals
To whom do we answer to when we need to be uplifted.

What is the answer that we so desperately seek in life.
Oh how I wish I knew
But I think that in this time and place,
Reflecting is the best that can be done.

We reflect on
the past events
the worries
the joys
the life events
the welcoming
and the parting.

We have so many events to be thankful for and to learn from
But what so we have to give to those who have gave to us?
What can we do for them
Especially at this point in life.
J May 3
To say what it is really meant for
serves no purpose.
When they reach out from the eye of the sun---
Leave them be.
There is a reason they grow before flowers.
Sometimes life gets you down and you think you are nothing. But you are not nothing, you are great:)
Erian Rose May 1
Under the streetlights
on the corner of 11th
autumn turned into showers
your pupils reflected
seasons becoming racing beats
hours stumbling out of reach
sara Apr 30
I don’t remember if I cried when we broke it off
maybe I just pushed it down
with friends, and drink, and drugs
I lost control when I lost us
Does heartbreak ever go away? Asking for a friend
Raghu Menon Apr 29
With nothing to do,
With nowhere to roam around,
With being forced to confine yourselves,

Just digging into the past,
Digging up old memories
That's what the pandemic is
Allowing us to do...
The COVID is forcefully changing us, asking us to put breaks and reflect. Some things bad, but somethings definitely good.
marga Apr 26
sometimes it feels lonely,
and sometimes i feel drowsy.

but maybe this is the time
i have to treasure every prime
i have not seen
when everywhere is all i've been.

there are things i want to try,
but my energy cannot defy.

but this time i ought to find serenity
amidst all the ambiguity
and try to reflect
on what i have to reconnect.
the way i currently feel
and what i have realized.
daily poems! ♡
FTW
I’m the unfinished poem
And you’re the deadline closing in way too soon.
This is not shaping up to be anyone’s best work.

You’re the chair with a faulty seat
And I’m the *** falling through.
Is it my fault for not checking first?

I’m the ambulance sirens wailing outside on your street,
But you’re the silence I need to concentrate.
How are you going to work with this?

You’re the hands typing away
And I’m the keyboard with a missing key.
Or maybe you’re missing a finger?

What about the deadline?
How is this going to work if you’re missing a finger?
Is this what’s making me the ***?

I might be the biggest obstacle you have,
And baby you’re not one for track and field.

Bring your best revision to the table,
I don’t think you’re saving this piece.

Whether this is a creative block or not,
You’re dealing with a failure to write.
Totality escapes beneath me, all that I’ve left unexplored collapses unto me.

Triggered, by self centered inundation, I might as well be gone.

For what do I provide the collective? But neglect and self indulgent plunder.

Relive this aeonic cage, cyclic and persistent. Yet each existence we reach a new peak.

So benevolent, and elegant. I need to relive samsara to fill my void.

Be meaningful to others. Because I do not matter, what I do matters.

Momentarily, this escapes me, shameful and foolish, I must regain such tonic insight.

It combats my abysmal fear of inconsequentiality.

I’ve reflected in infantilism, however I think I’ve found what guides us to actualization.

At least myself anyway, I need to mean something to others.

I need to teach and learn from my peers, whom I overlook as of now.

How myopic and repugnant. White from shame I apologize to those who’d listen.

I open my arms to all. Let me help, show me how to help.
Next page