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sage short Apr 2020
I opened the cabinet where all the plates were.
They were all the same color and shape
with the same cracks and chipped paint.

One by one I threw them all onto the ground
until they shattered into oblivion.

I gathered some of the scraps and cradled them like a baby,
glued some back together,
and I told them it was going to be okay,
that I had been crushed by the foot of a giant too.

But when I woke up,
there were no plates.
Or bowls, or cups, or forks, or spoons.

So, I dug a hole in my bed and sank into it, deeply,
landing in the grass, sprinkled with dew.
No twinkle of stars, no sunshine or snow,
no bird wings flapping or croaking frogs,
or busy highways or empty neighborhood streets.

A bitter-sweet orange lay next to my arm.
It was bruised too, and a little soft.
I dug my nails into its stomach and clawed its insides out
and devoured it monstrously and unforgivingly.

But then I remembered the plates.
My shadow was leaning against the house with them inside.
Did they belong there? In that cabinet all these years?

But when I woke up,
I was in my bed
And the plates were downstairs,
in the cabinet,
where they belonged.
rough draft of a new poem
Apollo Hayden Feb 2019
Into the universe we place our trust.
Closing our eyes, holding each others hands and falling backwards into us.
Flowing through the milky way,
unbothered and bathing in love...
All of this happening so quickly just from one simple touch.
A sacred act...
An electric attack that crept up our spines.
Bonded through water and air sealed you and I for all of time.
A trust fall into the universe, we're flowing now...
Using our minds more than our mouths.
Getting in touch through telepathy,
even now I know you're hearing me...
I had no time for love,
and you had no time for men.
After one laid his hands on you and you said you'd never place your faith in any again.
But the universe laughed cuz it had other plans
and it's that exact energy that placed you right where I am.
And here we are easily swimming through stars and oh how I wish I could slow it all down...
A love story for the angels to marvel developed at the speed of light,
so beautiful and so profound.
I write into existence stories that'll last until the end of time.
Speaking of someone and no one, causing confusion in the minds of those who find it hard to enter into mine.
It's all about energy and I try vibrating high, so that I bring to life just what I write upon these lines.
The co-creator of my own life, diving deep into my pool of imagination just to keep my world a little more colorful and bright.
So I closed my eyes and wrote exactly what I seen inside.
A love story about someone and no one, all at the same time.
And what's left are crumpled up papers and rough drafts of deleted scenes...
Kayla Gallant Dec 2018
We are much too young
To worry this much
About life
All that we have to offer
We carry around
In a suitcase
The size of a plum
Yet we worry
We will never be
Good enough
For them
The Gods who control us
Puppeteers in balcony seats
We are just passengers
In this brief carasoul
Of a lifetime
This is a rough draft of a poem I am working on. I would love to hear some feedback so I can improve my work. Thank you lovelies xo
DeepPoet45 Oct 2018
Don't you feel bad for Grendel,
His mind is poisoned by the devil.
He is just a lost boy in a harsh world against him.
Voices in his head push towards the brim

He hates the world that he roams alone.
The Dragons charm; his flesh hard as stone.
The Shaper's voice; his head is aching
Wealthoew's beauty; his heart is breaking

Grendel's anger seals his fate
Fatal madness will not abate
His demise is in the mead hall.
He dies from accident; So may you all....
This is not the final version
gbye Aug 2018
When my grandfather passed I found a butterfly
Yellow and small hovering around my shoulders, lightly kissing my cheeks with every flutter
I walked five feet, then ten. Bidding farewell to my new friend.
And yet, the friend followed me no matter how far I strayed
And so I returned home to my mother, the yellow butterfly following behind
Then her eyes widened with shock, and, a touch of happiness
Her smile turned bittersweet as she pulled me into her arms
'Look dear,' she said, pointing at my new friend.
'There's your grandfather, he's come to visit.' She reached out with her fingers and the butterfly settled on them.
'How could that be grandpapa, Mama?' I asked, curious as ever.
'When a loved one passes, their spirit visit us in the form of butterflies.'

Twenty years since. butterflies have followed my every step.
I've begun to wonder if they announce the passing of a loved one or prepare me for my own
c n Jun 2018
I want to write.
I want to create.
But I rarely feel like I can.
I want my words to mean something.
I want them to be heard to the volume I expressed them at.
I want them to explode minds.
I want them to carry emotions.
I want what I create to be beautiful in a personal interpretational way.
I want them to educate.
I want less to be more.
I want them to make people feel.
Isn't selfish of I to hold back myself because I may not get what I want?
Isn't selfish of I to hold back one's voice because I may not get what I want?
Isn't unfair to my soul to tell it no because I may not get what I want?
Isn't cruel of I to bury my desires because I may not get what I want?
Is it not foolish of I to be thinking: I want, I want, I want...
when God has given me: You can, you can, you can.
Anonymouse Jane May 2017
come get yours
while i;m drowning in this fixture
take your time in the half-life

the pills that pose a purpose

postulate your position
poison to this far too precious heart-
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