Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Kewayne Wadley May 2018
Missing a glimpse of her
Was just as bad as being late.
My feeling flown all over the place.
The punctuality of being at the exact place at the right time.
Missing this glance everything falls out of place.
The sudden challenge of tomorrow.
Being on time, this moment left behind.
Admittedly I hurried the next moment.
To miss the same glance.
My feelings all over the place.
To think, flowers are never as late as they seem
Cecilie Andersen Apr 2018
I used to be pretty, but now I look sick.
I used to be though, but now I feel weak.
I can't help myself, so I became helpless.
I am never leaving this bed which i'm drowning in, but I hope that someday I learn how to swim with the fish.

Blood is rushing to the visible veins in my wrists and down my legs 'till it becomes hot at my feet and i'm standing in a red pool. And I wish I could swim with the blood cells.

Endure more like suffer. And I might survive but i'm no survivor.

I used to look sick, but now I look dead.
Jessica Jarvis Apr 2018
...My hardened heart has been awakened.
The broken grounds will begin to quake and
within the crevices between the faults,
Your rushing water will flood....
4/10/18

Here is a little excerpt from a much larger spoken word poem entitled, “Reborn”.
Shawn Oct 2017
too many souls
live life like
it's a test
always rushing
to absorb the
i n f o r m a t i o n
nothing is
in  f o r m a t i o n.
V Anne Jul 2017
I like feeling like danger girl.
I like feeling like a shooting star
blazing across your eyes
and gone in an instant.
I love being the whimsical
day dream of a woman
I had hoped to be when I was twelve
and feeling trapped.
Listless within my own body
yet every nerve ending was electrified
like I was an overcharged battery.

Zip. Zap.
I want to dash across your heart
leaving no bruise or cut
but a stinging burn.
Icy me all you want
but I have already combust.
I live in my own scorched skin.

Zip. Zap.
There’s a ringing in your ears.
The whirl of wind
winding past your head
ruffling your hair
raising goosebumps
yet you cannot shiver.

I like feeling like danger girl.
I like free falling this role.
Colm Jun 2017
Where does the desire come from?
To send someone words on a paper screen?
Where does the inkwell saturate, and settle deep?
Mixing until you’re your dammed up thoughts
Break loose and spill out onto the ground
Flooding the valley at hand below
For when you spill yourself onto a page
You need to be comfortable with the mess you’ll create
It’s inevitable
But why should you worry about that anyway?*
I mean it, I say this with a laugh but…
Does any of this matter anyway?
Why should you withhold and hold back?

The rushing words
The kind which actually meant to be swept away
How to write with Sean - You just write until you are. And then one day you realize that you've always been to a certain degree. And forever will be. You! (:
Waking up in the morning
still tired and groggy
rushing to leave the house
throwing on whatever clothes are closest to me.

endless cycle, day in, day out
rushing through my life to do someone else's bidding
then it clicks.
something in my head, and in my heart.

I want more of you, more of us
more time to explore the true nature of life
unbound, free to choose my own speed
today, here, with you, I choose slow
celey Jul 2015
the scrapping of rubber shoes
on the pavement alarm me
frantically gliding as if
in search of something

the halls are suddenly
narrower than yesterday
and all the other days before

this always happens
whenever i am rushing
and i am always rushing
so i wonder why i'm always
surprised to find myself this distraught
when its color isn't pretty on me
just making everyday happenings like  being late for class dramatic
Mark Steigerwald Feb 2015
Over the wild blue sea
across a world of turmoil

Through deep forests
and wild skies

Lies a place
ancient and mighty

High towers look gloomly down over iron gates and broken walls.

This was once a place of strength,
a fortress of might
a stronghold against the darkness.

But time has played Its role
rusting the polished metal
rotting away at the foundations.

Its time has already come and gone
The fortress is not but a heap of ruin
a long gone shadow in the distant past.

Over magnificent peaks
rushing rivers and sprawling cities

Through tempest
storm and shroud
Does it lie

Slumbering silently
in broken ruins.
Next page