Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Olga Valerevna Sep 2016
What if our projections are of aid to someone else
what if what we say delivers someone to the well
would you spread your words as though they didn't mean a thing
Or would you make an effort to believe the opposite
grown tired of the oceans we have poured and swallowed up
The fishes we are swimming with have duly had enough
And now that we are drowning, altogether almost gone
where are all the pillars we have ever stood upon
while everything dishonest walks behind your every step
the footprints you could see once mock uncertainty in death
and when it's running faster as your breath's becoming short
you may not find yourself again the way you did before
one nation.
Gaius Normanyo Jun 2016
My parents left our homeland for me
More than five thousand, five hundred miles
To travel to a land ripe with opportunity

But at times the ripest fruit tended to spoil
However, they always counted God's blessings and moved on
My parents have endlessly toiled

With their younger son on the way
And four years of American experience
They strived at greater lengths each and every day

It is difficult to set aside one's own will
To tend to a family
To pay an immigration agency's bills

Yet they have done it, tried and true
Citizenship, I pray
Is coming soon

One day, I will properly honor them
Meanwhile,
This country will learn to accept others, but only with Him as its precious gem
6/12/16
I decided to revisit an previous poem of mine, “Sacrifice", after remembering William Blake's approach to former works in his collection “Songs of Innocence and of Experience"... Definitely not as polished.
The mist hung heavy in the air
Touching lightly on marsh grasses
It was almost like a London fog
And as thick as cold molasses

Beneath the mist in hiding
Decomposing in the night
Were the results of one more battle
Awaiting dawns early light

The Union and The Rebels
Fighting for what they believe
And soon, these victims kin folk
Will learn their fate and will then grieve

Cannon, gun and bayonet
Were the weapons for the ****
You couldn't see the bodies
Through the mist from on the hill

Amongst the dead one soldier
Died from a shot that came behind
His head was gaping open
He was shot by his own kind

The armies both died facing
The direction of attack
Except for this one soldier
Who was taken from the back

A coward's lot is hellfire
And so it will be for Will May
He was shot by his own brother
As he turned and ran away

The mist hung heavy in the air
Touching lightly on marsh grasses
It was almost like a London fog
And as thick as cold molasses
I was never satisfied with being the observer
or the healer
I wanted to be healed
I wanted to be fun to watch like the many people I observed and loved at a distance
I had a habit of seeing things from one set of eyes only
I tried on different masks
I felt lonely
I felt numb
There was nothing to me
except speculation
But I pushed this away
It only came in between helping others
I used to think I lost myself in guiding others
But I had never found myself in the first place

Reflective states would come in waves
But I had forgotten how to swim
The day I fell into the sea

It may have been a river
But I couldn’t tell
Because I was just a pebble
Brianna Oct 2015
I left my heart in the ocean that night and watched it float away in a glass bottle with a note that said I loved you once.

As I sat on the shore watching the rough waves overtake this innocent bottle I remember how you told me I wasn't like most girls.... Quite the common phrase of boys these days.

You'll be the first to notice I said "boys" not "men" because men don't **** with girls. Men deal with women and men treat women right. Boys tend to break girls hearts and then blame them.

Slowing turning in deep ocean waters at this point I am sure the bottle would have something to say about being treated with disrespect.

I'm sure it would tell me that being ignored for months at a time isn't love. That begging for you to talk to me at 3 am isn't love. That sleepless nights waiting for you to tell me you missed me wasn't love.

And I'm sure that bottle would rather lose that note than ever make it to your side of the states. And if it ever did make it over there and chance that you found it, it would break in your hands.

There would be glass stuck in your finger tips as your tried to read the note that once held the words I wished you'd say allowed but instead all you would see is smudged writing and maybe "thanks for nothing" scrawled across the bottom.

But we know that would never happen because, like you and I, that's just stuff stories are made of.
Nicole Dawn Aug 2015
If I were a state of matter
The element I would be
Is water

The state I would be in
Is gaseous

Why?

It's because
Ice is beautiful
And useful

Water
As a liquid
Is natural
It's calm
And beautiful

But water vapor
It's invisible
No one cares about it
And while you can't see
You can feel it
You can feel the way it
Presses down on you
When it's hot out
No one likes humid days
No one likes water vapor

Water vapor
Does not belong
It's supposed to be a liquid
It does not fit in

And also,
It's molecules
Run away from eachother
Just as I
Run away from myself

If I were a state of matter
I would be water
In its gaseous state
Tired...
Inspired by a conversation with a friend
Comment what state you would be in
K Balachandran Jun 2015
Swirling waters gush out, creating  chaos,
freeze in to ice, the silence follows, quickly
devours the spirit of that disorderly behavior;
memories of past sins are all forgotten, soon.
One is allegorically water, ice or gas
changing states, too happens, often
Àŧùl May 2015
My army is of just 2 soldiers,
Only she and me making we,
We both work hard together,
For we both have to succeed,
So that our love will improve,
As time is so very unforgiving,
We will be together in the end.
My HP Poem #866
©Atul Kaushal
Caitlin Mar 2015
Surprisingly, I'm not as worried as I was about tomorrow.
Its just another performance.
I got this.
Next page