Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Francis Nov 5
730 days of ambiguity,
Searching your soul,
Finding a cracked China doll,
Fragile, yet beautiful,
With a tragic past.

That one holiday in New London,
A mere ride on the Ferry away,
But we took the long way,
Simply to have more time.
More time, how I wish… we had it.

Our excitement as bold,
As our love for each other then,
You watched that Mohegan Sun rise,
Through that gaping window, overlooking the lake,
As you studied my sleep.

A holiday festivity,
Experiencing Siberian music,
In this Native American palace,
Dining like royalty,
And smiling in harmony.

730 days of highs and lows,
Despite how it all ended, and it did end,
That one, quaint little memory,
Reminds me of one simple thing,
We’ll always have Mohegan Sun
A year later and all I wanna do is go back to this memory.
Jellyfish Oct 12
I miss our first days sometimes
and like to reminisce at night
There are times when I'm lucky and
I can convince him to retell our stories to me
after we turn out the lights.
It always helps me to fall asleep;
When he recounts our memories.
I would love to lay together and hear him describe things to me
but he doesn't like to lately
I miss going to sleep at the same time.
Alex McQuate Jan 22
Running down that gravel road back home,
Spitting rock from my churning feet,
Arms pumping with a determination,
Lungs burning pleasantly like they only do when you're young,
Excitement in a way that is only felt by those under 23.

Lord oh Lord,
Where did the days go?
Carry me back to when I didn't have the knees of a 56-year-old,
Before my metabolism slowed down to a snail's pace,
And I needed to watch my blood pressure and my weight.

Head a-swimmin,
Stomach queasy,
Like asking out your first crush,
Or maybe a beer or 3 too many,
I think back to when I was a teen.
Zach Bryan- Mine Again
Alex McQuate Jan 21
I saw you in the aisle of the supermarket,
And I just realized this is the first time I've thought of you in years,
Like an anchor that was cut loose decades ago discovered by divers,
Covered in barnacles and rust.

I just remembered you still have one of my guitars,
And wonder if you still have that mug we made on one of our dates,
The one you used every morning when we dated,
I wonder if you still drink that horrid tasting tea.

When was the last time you thought about our trip to New York City,
Where we first saw the Statue of Liberty,
Do you remember comforting me at the World Trade Center Memorial,
When I was overcome with melancholy?

But just as quick I saw you,
You disappeared from sight,
Not spotting me in the market crowd,
Going on with your life.

Lips quirk up for a second,
I go back to shopping,
And back on with my life,
Glad with my lot and place,
Hoping that you are too,
And knowing I'll never think of you again.
Happy Instead- Zach Bryan
Alex McQuate Jan 7
I think back to 5 years ago,
To those days in northern New York,
Where my life felt like some coming-of-age tale,
Coming into my own.

Each day was its own chapter,
Shenanigans and hijinks,
Bar room brawls and short-lived loves,
Drunken tattoos and crutching on snow 2 feet deep,
Barracks parties and field exercise tomfoolery,
Oh, how it all seems like such a dream now.

Fleeing from authorities,
Cackling with buddies as we disappeared into the crowd to make it to the next bar,
Showing up to work on Monday with a recently broken nose, blackened eye, and ****-eating grin,
With my buddies sporting similar signs,
Our First Sergeant taking stock of these injuries,
And walking onward with a little smirk.

Walking through Watertown,
Feeling the age of that military town,
Filled with secondhand stores and oddities,
My God such a surreal dream.

Stuck in bed,
Knee wrapped up in bandages,
Protecting all the stitches beneath,
Looking out the winter at the blizzard outside,
Craving a working leg more than the percocet,
And knowing that the dream was coming to an end.
Amy- Macdonald- This is the life
Alex McQuate Jan 5
Sitting with my father,
And a man I grew up regarding as an uncle,
Catching up and reminiscing of earlier days,
When they did something that made my heart break.

They both looked at an empty chair,
As if waiting for it to chime in,
A chair where a third man used to sit.

My father's smile grew slack,
The twinkle that was there snuffed out,
My uncle took a quick draw,
From both his cigarette and his beer,
Both sucker-punched by the old sting of grief,
Remembering their 3rd.

A mix of these two men,
The third use to be,
A man with an uproarious personality,
The kind of friend every man finds that he needs.

He was a kind soul,
A man to emulate,
Kindred to his fellows,
A rare quality you never see.

A confidant,
A sounding board,
A getaway driver,
A unique kind of breed.

They come to,
The moment shattered,
And they continue to speak.
Nicole Sep 2022
i never thought change would be this hard
it made me realize how deep my heart was carved
with the past i still miserably want to reminisce
the past that caused me to be like this
Meraki Jul 2022
Instead of drawing roses,
I write in silver and black
turning untold thoughts into wings
to soar with the angels
who have left me behind.
cleann98 May 2022
there's just something about
the stillness of these stones
that sings me to tears—
     today is august 5, 2026...
     today is august 5, 2026...

so screams the years of
layers of dust encrusting
the petrified earth; lonely,
rid of her supple footsteps
to graze and wipe it clean.

like the stagnant roots
that seem to have given up
creeping to grasp for any
foot to cling to or touch
i can only stay so still...
     knowing oh so well
     everything we touch
     turns only to soil.

i could act myself a fool
greeting barren outcroppings
only to the reply of my own voice
hoping that the once green grass
would once again bloom
to the bliss of my welcome—
     but i'd rather settle for silence...

instead of crackling leaves;
stepping, all i heard were
my shoes against pavements,
failing to muffle the cries
from underneath my feet.

*someday, somehow
i will make it so
these lands will know
soft rains once more—
something i wrote before my life just started shutting down~~ partially inspired by he short story 'there will come soft rains' by ray bradbury (hence the august 5, 2026 thing) and mostly just from he rush of feelings i had imagining how my now abandoned childhood home (where the ashes of my mom, dad, grandpa, and grandma are) back in the province looks like when i would eventually return there...

this poem means a lot more now after visiting there last month for the first time in two years since the pandemic began and yeah ._.
Janica Katricia Aug 2022
It reeks of sadness in this room.
I don't live in the same house, anymore
but I still got your shirt.
I look for you in every face I smile at every day,
they come and go.
So fast, that I wanted it to be you when I look away.
Your smell lives in my head like a song I never liked,
but the chorus screams your name, not the title.

I remembered when you clenched your teeth,
to me, it sounded like the crickets outside my window
that I never thought of closing.
It's cold but I still had the door open for you.

and yet I thought,

there's nothing left to come home to.

the tore down the walls we used to draw on and built a higher one.
the lights... there were none.
Only the blue light coming from a phone so bright that I never thought of putting it down,
in case you call.

in case you wanted to visit the emptiness.
Still you. Only you.
Next page