Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Poetic T Jul 2017
A capture on
               the eyes

That stain
        the thoughts..

Never washing away

Just
      lingering
within a muse.
hazem al jaber Jul 2017
Let's sink together ...

let's sink  into each other ...
so deep together ...
into our sea's desires ...
there to explore ...
the greatest desires ...
which we both need ...
where were we could make ...
our new secrets of love ...
new  sweet love boils ...
boils from our feelings ...
and our sweet desires ...
there into our world ...
while no one share ...
our moments ...
only me and you ..
and our love's secret ...

let's make it sweetheart ...
let's sink into our desires ...
while no breathes there ...
only to breathe each other ...
while we make our love ...
to get a great desires ...
there into our secret world ...

let's do it my angel ...
let's sink there ...
into our love's desires ...
we both need to be there ...

here i'm waiting ...
waiting your oceans and seas ...
to sink together there ...

hazem al ...
JAC Jun 2017
Remember Diana
With the sailboat of dreams?
I know she's out there in the great blue sea,
But she's lost her way, it seems.
The trouble with sailing
When no one says you can,
Is that when you set off,
You lose your hat and some of your confidence
When the first great blue wind blows.
If you're made to doubt, told to doubt
You'll still sail, but you'll sail without
The parts of you that hadn't a doubt -
So when your anchor is fused to uncertainty,
You think you're destined to sink.
To sail, you need a great blue sheet,
And spit and grit and piece of meat
To give to the great blue shark you meet -
But you can do without those, if you're clever.
What's essential for sailing
(And Diana knew this quite well, I can tell),
Is the awareness and understanding
That your boat is built with dreams in mind.

What use is a sailboat of reverie
If you haven't any imagination?

The fact of the matter, this is not.
You forgot: she's lost at sea.
The great blue doubt overcame even me,
And I stopped believing in her sailboat,
So it stopped sailing,
For she was the last great blue believer.
She fused that to her identity,
She was wrapped in her sails
But things got tough
Blue seas got rough
So it wasn't enough
And the blue called her bluff.
She escaped from land,
But didn't understand
That the waves of the deep
Wouldn't hold her hand
So her great blue view
Sank smaller and smaller.

Dear Diana,
What on earth do you do
*When the next wave is taller than you?
A continuation or alternate ending to "The Curious Case of Diana's Sailboat". For Diana.
Karisa Brown Jun 2017
Dibolical plans
A roast
Somewhat innhabbital
A little more hostile
Less hospitable

Carving out reflections
Communion overdose
Oskar Erikson May 2017
dancing on our tiptoes
arms among clouds
our throats turned to birdsong
and eyes star-bound.

How Could We Return To Earth.

soon though
as want to do
our fuel ran cold.
sparks to splutters to shudders to crawls to fingernails dragging the atmosphere
           back
down
           with
us.

clipped wings
our shoes seem so heavy
"I want to be rooted"
"I want to be planted"
"I want to be free."
*"Before I dream of what the sky-"
komal aggarwal Apr 2017
The right person,
the wrong time!
The right script,
the wrong line!
the right poem,
the wrong rhyme!
and a piece of you,
that was never mine
Donielle Apr 2017
My life's shoelaces are always a little loose.
At any moment I could come undone
and trip over my own two feet.
Fall headlong
with my hands tied behind my back
with the ropes of yesterday,
whose knots are tangled and frayed
like my nerves.
I clench my fists
like ***** of fire could escape them
to keep me straight,
but I feel my feet become boulders
and it becomes harder to lift them
with my spaghetti legs.
The weight in my mind
sandwiches my heart between
it and the rocks
and I eyeball the river and think
wouldn't it be so easy?
rose Apr 2017
There is more beauty in the steam
coming out of my coffee machine
Than there is in a Monet
At least with my lonely eyes
it seems that way
When the sink drips its drops
To me it is art
Maybe cause my world
Is falling apart
I tend to find beauty in odd things
Next page