Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Julia May 6
loving you is like
          ­                                l l
                         ­      h
a rock rolling u
or catching a f
                            l l
just know that i tried

losing you is like
endless rain on a sunny day
st!ng!ng pain from the ultraviolet ray
destiny denied

if the world is made of
red and blue swipes
then why not just be
purple all of the time?

if i don't need love
or musical pipes
then you can find me
lost looking for rhyme

my baby never sang a song
to fix whatever might be wrong
you think your boxes have the key
but a quick coupler isn't me

loving you is like
a (myth) that never did exist
or a (woman) in this world trying to resist

losing you is like
learning i could fix myself with my own strong arms
turning fields of barren land into fertile farms

into the ease i'm free
so call me when you understand
how to please all of me
how to be more than just a boy-man

i'm glad it's over.
inspired by the song by Charlotte Dos Santos
Iska Apr 13
I rarely write poetry for others
I find it to be a waste of words
But occasionally I will stumble
Upon a soul who deserves
To be heard.

So this one is for the girl
With the gleaming red hair
The one who bares an impish grin
Cursed with a storm that blazes within.

Hush little soldier,
Bow your weary head.
You hold the world on your shoulder
Your shaking knees bear the weight
your teeth ache with the effort
As you take one faltering step after another.

Sweat beads upon your brow,
As you attempt to accomplish,
that which grand Atlas could not,
To live and to grow,
to wander free
Whilst holding the world on your battered and bruised shoulders
Determined to succeed.

And then you stumble.
And then you fall.
The world has defeated you
You were merely human after all.

And now this maiden,
both young and fair,
draws in a breath of frigid air.

With steel for eyes
she bites her tongue.
Tasting a mouth
of copper and blood,
she forces her shuddering limbs to move...
and she stumbles to her feet.
Heedless to the seeming defeat.

With rasping breath,
her demeanor grim,
she squares her shoulders
and slowly begins.
Much like clever Sisyphus,
to move the Earth as a boulder,
up and down each hill.

And as I beheld the spectacle,
I am at a loss for words.
For in your eyes,
I beheld a fire
That scorches me down to my core.
I realized you had the strength to crush mountains as you began to step forward once more.

And in you, I saw my mirror,
I then realized you were quite like me,
Willing to sacrifice yourself, so that no others would bleed.

Oh brave Warrior, beware!
The Earth is no easy boulder to bear. For it will roll back and crush you. All that is needed is a simple gust of air.

But you, much like I, know this.
I can see it in your eyes.
You are no foolish simpleton.
If this were to happen,  
You would get up once more
and simply start over again.

So, my sweet summer soul,
I see you, and what a sight you are to behold. And since defeat is not in your nature...
I will stand by you.
And together this boulder we’ll roll.
For the Earth is quite a burden,
But one that is far easier with two.
And I am willing to go the distance,
Side by side with you.

So come, unbreakable spirit,
Let us begin at dawn,
And together we’ll conquer the mountains.
Together we’ll devour the sun.
And once we have accomplished,
That which grand Atlas could not,
We will know that the deed is done.
Having defied all odds,
It is we, in the end, who have won.

To the girl with hair of flames
May you never burn out
But if you do
I will ignite your flames
Z Jan 21
my mother's father is not yet buried
and yet he breathes no more
another boulder to be carried
up the hill forevermore
dToo Mar 2018
I try, I try to change world, but can't change life.

I hide, I hide, my weakness and my pain, every day hardworking.

I'm lost in the desert, I wonder who am I, no one can answer questions, all we can is, pretend life.

We are planning a lot, our life is over-scheduled, but we can't escape invisible deadline.

We are playing, we are playing, whole life is one game. showing emotions and tinkering, achievements and fails, but all is fake.

All we have is each other, we are all on one plate and There is no place for strife, battle and hatred.There is place only for Support, Collaboration and curiosity.

Thus and so, we are rolling the same boulder uphill and all we can is smile, there is no use of crying - that's the way we can achieve, achieve happiness of Sisyphus.
Vick Mandrake Feb 2018
The grass is always greener
When the sun and moon share time
And if you wish to change demeanor
You'll learn this truth, I find

For I have rode the albatross
And dove deep into the sea
I have climbed with Sisyphus
And Hades set me free
I always consider putting the intended meanings in this section but time and again I've decided I'd rather have the reader to assign their own meanings than me tell them what to feel
Diána Bósa Feb 2018
Kissing your cheek
time after time
then at once, you asked:
"What are you doing?"
"Counting my blessings," I said
"I was never good with numbers, though,
so I start it all over and over again
and imagine Sisyphus happy."
David Hutton Oct 2017
The state of absence floods internally,
Overflows out of every aperture,
Absorbing the entire anatomy.
Beau Grey Jan 2017
Who needs contentment.
Let's burn this ******* house down
so our skin swelts from the heat
and our egos can cry for our lost possessions.
Who am I without my Things?
Who is Sisyphus without his boulder?
A man now content with only himself?
******* Absurdism.
Shailendra N Dec 2016
Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
Many more steps to go.
Hardened feet.
No longer are my steps maligned by stabs of blood.
Condemnation . . . Damnation . . . Corruption . . .
My seasoned back launches into my perennial burden.
And another step I take.
Into an inevitable future of drudgery.
Hope . . . Exoneration . . . Absolution . . .
Have long been forgotten.
Their burnt ashes adorn my forehead.
My shoulder screams ahead, into the weight it upholds.
Rumble  . . . Rumble . . . Rumble . . .
Each step like the millions before it,
thrusts the stone another foot towards the jagged peak
that towers impressively up ahead.
Dum Da De  . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the day goes on.
Dum Da De . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the night lives long.
Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
My war-torn muscles relax.
And the stone sits.
Stares at the valley below.
Lightning . . . Rain . . . Thunder . . .
The wind caresses and cajoles,
And the stone rolls down below, echoing Thor’s exclamations
And my heart leaps with joy.
After all, there will be another day.
And my feet have hardened anyway.
Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . .
Johan Nel Oct 2016
I do not write to write what's right
Or put up a fight to fight for the sake of fights
I amble on and on and on
To write lines that are short and long which long
But somewhere along the path I need to break
The patterns that find themselves in words that slur
To just let go, type it out and ramble
The dice fall from a hand so keen
To shatter every new concept into the shards
That are repetitively absurd
The boulder rolls down again, down the cursed hill
I know you'll shout after it until your mind is still
© Johan Nel 28.10.2016
Next page