Journey of Days Apr 17

frantic clicking and running down stairs
flinging books and coffee mugs
hissing steam from ironing shirts
scrubbing boots and packing bags
wrapping lunch and writing notes
doors creak and then slam goodbye
and so part two
of my day
begins with


This poem is very short.
I don't want to write TOO much.
If I say too much,
You'll probably lose interest.
People have short attentions spans nowadays.

Debanjana Saha Apr 16

Rushing through everything
as if I would cease to live
at any moment
burns me out quite often.
Now its time to pause
not to look back or front
Just to be
but nowhere around..
for a while I guess
let's see how it will be!

I guess knowing when and how to pause is very crucial in life.
HH Mar 27

I like it when you hold me
When I can look into your eyes
For you are beauty, a sense of familiarity, the feeling that you are all I need in my life.

Wejdan Mar 24

What a bundle of blueness
in the bedding time
My thoughts are rushing insane.

Thank you very much Jim Musics for the help :')
Delta Swingline Mar 21

Listen, I tend to write like I'm speaking in a conversation. Mostly because I wish I had somebody to talk to. And if I'm being honest, you'd be my first pick to talk to. Life never treated us the was we thought it would mostly because we're optimistic than realistic.

I tried talking to you at least 10 times today. And every single time I wish I didn't close up in my own embarrassment. I tried 10 times and didn't talk to you once. and if you ever hear this poem than maybe I finally did succeed in talking to you.

Sometimes, when I write poetry, I hope you're reading over my shoulder so I wouldn't have to say it out loud. I'm sorry that I blame everything on time, and how if I had another minute, I'd tell you "I love you". But I can't...

I'm sorry I make things awkward because I'm scared of telling you what I'm really thinking. I wish I knew how to write this without wishing you were gonna read it. Because maybe you never will.

Part of me will never be okay with that because you may go your whole like never know that somebody wrote pages about you that never made it to your eyes or ears.

I'm sorry that I'll never have enough courage to read this to you. I'll wish I did when you feel sad or unloved. Because something like this will remind you of why we never let anyone take control of our lives because we are Gods right?

Or at least you were.

And I know infinity can't hold up to your brilliance so please don't cry when you the world's grip on your shoulders. You're already stronger that you thought you were.

Part of us will always suffer in the moments we never said what really mattered. But it seems like time is already passing us by.

I know you've already forgotten the lyrics to the first song I ever sent you. And soon my name will fall on that list as well.

Just take a pack of cigarettes to the rooftops like you always said you would.

It's okay if you don't remember why you're up there.
I guess this is where most conversations end.

See you soon.

Or rather...

See us.

I wrote a song called "Rush" for the same girl. It will always be the best song I've ever written. And I wish I could tell her that.
WJ Thompson Mar 19

It is
Mouse on the C
Mouse on the keys
Photovoltaic benjamins
New cologne: Mars Musk
X marks the interstellar profit
Build-a-baby with CRISPR-Cas9
Mouse jumping playing "Für Elise"
Are words worthy of the afternoon?
Does the value offer gain an interest?
Nicholas coils are being insistent.
Mouse waving, saying, "see!
Will you follow me?"
Scampers toward
ignited rockets
I'll follow him
into the

New job, baby. Let's gooooooooooooo
Stewart barns Mar 6

2 juveniles 1 adult
A mini van, sliding doors;
Intoxicated by the alcohol
Driven by the adrenaline
Eyes glued to the windows,
Looking for an enemy:
One of them smiling
Describing violently how he's going to put an end to them;
Driver trying to calm them down
One last time we drive around
If you see them
start Hopping out

Light turns green
Heads turned right
Car brakes screech
Car door slides
One cocks back
And That's the end of that

Amber Valencia Feb 12

Nervous tick, like a beating drum, thumping, dumping.....

Pouring, waves, into your chest, waves of pure blue.

And electricity shoots through like a power surge
A fluttering heart cracks open ideas, waves of amazement
And dreams of vulnerability
And dreamers of fleeting ideas, caught in one giant (tornado)

Always a mess, undressed - eyes of green, blue, sage, summer days - wasting away

Are the feelings reciprocated?

Until a physical touch, is no longer caught in the distance. Until a physical touch is mentioned in your prescience

And all your tornados became storms of grey, black, and darkness shrouded your thoughts until you were touched with hesitancy.... with consistency.... with assurance

Gabriel Burns Dec 2016

Conflagration rages
through the neuron forest;
in the end were lies,
deceived by honesty.

The first to flee
were all the beasts,
while the humane
remained behind
to burn up in a trace
of sapience.

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