Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Eryri Jan 17
Friends with Star Wars figures
And friends with football stickers.
Friends with bikes,
Friends with footballs;
The road was Wembley,
The neighbours' van our goalpost,
No one seemed to care
That their cars were being bashed
By wayward shots and way-off volleys
Or their lawns were being wrecked
By 10 year olds with football studs
Crossing themselves à la Maradona
Before vital penalties,
Despite not knowing what it meant!
Happy days indeed,
Playing Block,
Headers and Volleys,
Sixty Seconds,
Laughing, smiling, laughing.
But that same estate,
Thirty years hence,
Is clogged with cars,
No room for makeshift crossbars
To help nurture future soccer stars!
Lawns are now tarmacked drives.
Children forced into sedentary lives,
Not by social media or XBox Live,
But by lack of playing spaces.
So no more cycle races,
Or street football with undone laces,
Just kids with nowhere to play
And no power with which to sway
Those ignorant adults who simply say
"Kids today, eh? Too lazy to play".
Johnny walker Nov 2018
Although my mother passed
some year ago I shed no tears
still, remember the understairs
cubby hole
She would lock me
in for hours at a time, there
were spiders In there she'd walk
away laughing Hysterical laugh
scares me even now so much
the anger I still
have
She would get right In my face screaming at me pulling me
across the floor by the arm
pinning down beating me with
the back of a wooden sweeping
brush
She left me fear of the
dark confined spaces spiders
and made me reclusive to point
I couldn't even form a
relationship
If It wasn't for Helen
giving a chance I would still be
a loner but sadly since sadly
Helen passed on I've reverted back
to the life of a loner
Lock In cubby hole dark with spiders
spend hours In there
alone afraid
Celeste Briefs Nov 2018
is love blind?
how does it find me
so often in the dark?
if I am blind also,
how can love lead me
to a better place?
does it see with its hands,
feel through the empty spaces
of my bones
where I hide?
can it hear my heart
beating in the silence
so loud it drowns me
in its fire?
ALEX DRAKE Nov 2018
Don't tell me I belong in your heart.

                                                   You know I don't like crowded spaces.
Umang Aug 2018
Sunrise with your thoughts
Sound of nestling open my eyes

But i want to live that dream
Again for one last time

In which we're holding hands
Digging our legs in beach dirt
Wind trying to blow wisp of your hair
Me looking at you
While you seek the shells
And this feeling i get
It is irreplaceable
It is irresistible
And i find pearls
By having you
Right next to me

In sleep if i m having these dream please dont wake me up

Every time you are on my mind
It seem like a movie running in the daylight
I see you with my open eyes
Sharing tea and cherishing your smiles
The traffic chase we had
In the rain
And cold drop running all over the face
Your hands protecting my head
The hot filled cups
And our wet hands
With all these little things
day passes in the daydreams

At night i get lost
Worrying about the future
Than i get this feeling
Of having you
Distant, but virtually
By my side
Fills up my heart
And pump it hard
All these feels like
I can conquer my quest

My last thought
Dusk with your name
With it i find my peace

Next day the same things happen
Bt the movie changes from one place to another
One meeting to another
From first hiee
To out of sight good bye
Waiting for the next meeting
Untill then reliving the recent ones
Long distance relationship
Memories bridging up the distance
Evangeline Ashe Aug 2018
I've found a space nestled in
this gnarled and craggy tower,
which hums in deep and velvet green,
where atip each weathered, gently-laden bower
hangs a fragile canvas pale beneath.

Here a little haven even opens when,
on dewy mornings and after rain,
you can gaze just for a time
as memories rivel along the veins
in pearl and crystalline.

Whispers and howls from outside to come down
but I think I'd like just to sit,
and ever more reside,
between the fresh and fallen leaves
and write my notes on their underside.
veritas Aug 2018
red stains, fading, cracked, scented

     if i kissed your prints, would they kiss me back?

sighs, thoughts, spaces between prints

     spaces between words, between parted lips and floating thoughts the world! is so crowded with space but yours is the one i want to fill .

     but where are the lines? lines of loss, lines of lawns, lines of ink and rips and more stains and letters, in the hands and on the pavement

where are the lines?

why won't you go there?

why do you hover in these foul, indomitable spaces? why do you seek that which you should not?

     if the shadow of lines slinks in your quiet expression, then why are you still here?

     if the echo of your soft face lingers in my hands, if the whisper of your breath and the heat of your skin still singes my own, then why do you disappear?

lovely wraith, lovely memory of a thing that once was, why do you sit so alone?

because i am coming to your space, and if you can see me, of shadow and fog, then i will meet you there,

     on a line of our own.

>because it's a death premeditated and i can see it unfolding,

     sharp wounding painful

and the discourse in the sky is telling me so, yet why do i keep walking west?
lots of questions (this isn't a poem of answers. don't look for one).
Next page