elise f 1h

I am drowning
Gasping for air
Reaching for help
Held down by what I cannot stop
Surrounded by what I cannot bear 
Choked by what I cannot see
Cut off by what I cannot explain

Janae 1d

You see i have these little spurts,
all at one time ideas come and it almost hurts,
can't get to them all which makes it the worst,
so I have to do all this work.

Write it down as fast as I can,
breaking my hands
like a downward spiral
you never know when it gonna stop.

Like an elephant in the room
fat and crushing
taking in all the air
everywhere and nowhere.

For days it coils within and waits to be set free
and I just bleed,
bleed, and bleed.
Knowing this is just what I need.

I flow and flow like I'm at a place with no gravity
true travesty
no reality.

Then it ends
out of battery.

my ears are deaf
from the cries of pain
my body is numb
from the endless rain

I tell myself
to find
a place,
warm myself

no part of me
for I know
that deep down
the world is crumbling
always breaking
and I just
have to keep
holding on
until it
stops shaking.

I've lost my mind
Somewhere between the hours of
Four thirty
And nine

Or maybe it escaped
When I was at rest
Simply packed its bags
And left
In its place it left you
To haunt me all day
So please green eyes
Just go away

Green Eyes Go Away Come Again . . . Never Preferably

I glanced up from the grindstone…
that was stuck in high gear.
My doorbell was ringing....
Oh dear, Christmas is here?
I tripped in a tangle
of unstrung lights on the floor..
I backstroked through boxes...
blocking my path to the door.
I crushed crystal snowflakes
one, large, candy cane…
I lunged for the door knob
as fear raced through my brain.
What would I say?
And how did I look?
My tree leaned hard to the left
and nothing was cooked!
It was supposed to be perfect
like I planned it ALL year…
it clearly was Not....
as I fought back my tears.
With much trepidation,
I braced for bad news.
I could barely look up,
My eyes locked on my shoes
“I bring you good tidings!”
Exclaimed the young boy…
who stood proudly before me...
his face beamed with joy.
I surely was dreaming...
This just couldn't be...
for the boy at my door
Why I’d swear it was me!
He sang a few carols...
Hark the Herald, Silent Night…
and he sang them all loudly…
Each note high and bright.
He finished up strongly
Shifting to and fro…
We Wish You a Merry Christmas!
A tune we all know…
I snapped my fingers
As the melody hopped…
And I found myself singing
Even after he stopped…
Then he gave me a wave
And was suddenly gone…
As I shouted, WAIT!
Running out on my lawn...
I looked up to heavens….
It was then I knew why
God sent the boy…
and I stood there and cried
I whispered a song
Be near me Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay
Close by me forever,
and love me, I pray.
I forgot how to listen.
And to let my heart sing
And to Rejoice in the Glory
That The Christ Child will bring!

gmw '17

This was written just days before Christmas last year. I share it today with you because tomorrow is not...well, you know.
Yusof Asnan Jul 14

Countless hours,
Sleepless nights,
He couldn't write any more.
As he opened a new page every time,
His thoughts got lost in the crisp air,
As nothing came out from his pen.
He kept thinking on,
When did he stop writing,
A moment of when it all start.
And then it hits,
It was always her,
She was always the poem.

awe May 13

the girl who always sat
in the
of the bus
was troubled.
i saw her everyday at
6:41 in the morning.
when she'd come,
it didnt look like she had much but
id see her with a
different outfit style.
every time.
She'd walk over to the stop
holding something in
her jean jacket pocket.
she'd switch it around all
4 pockets in her jacket.
She'd look around for a little while
check the time here and there
when the bus came.
She'd ask the operator for a ride
I looked at her at times
not in a bad way
which i guess made her uncomfortable
and i know this because
i see her write in her book alot.
Forehead creased.
wild woman hair covering
her heart shaped face.
Leg up on the seat in front of her
trying to get a good angle
of her book.
Pen scribbling sentences that
didnt look like it had
i wanted to talk to her.
At least say hi
but i couldnt see,
today the
troubled girl
held the item in her pocket
for a little while, then when i turned back
at her,
she had different
on her face.
her gracious face
yet her mind was entangled by the bondage
of her own troubles.
She looked around the bus,
out of place,
as if she'd
lost something
not lost something
needed someone
needed someone to rely on
like she needed someone's shoulder
to tear up on.
i wanted to walk over.
But my legs stopped working
my arms stopped working.
I looked away instead.
and she saw this
When i glanced to the
back once more,
she was gone.
Both of our hearts

D Holden Jul 12

A familiar longing from those in the know
An addiction, a want for just another go.
Convincing ourselves of control with
"I could stop whenever I choose".
But return, pretending it's a choice,
and join the queue to once again lose.

This cycle of return is the gambler's curse.
"Just one big win is all I need",
but you have to lose ten times that first.
We know the rules, we know the game;
Something inside though convinces us to  play all the same.

Where to go? What to do to stop?
The way out is cold turkey but easy to do, that's not.
If the cycle doesn't end then relationships will start to break
And that's definitely a losing gamble that would make my heart ache

I need to get better,
I need to break free.
Today is the day I'm going to begin to be me.
I didn't know what to do,
admitting what is wrong tears me apart.
By writing this I've begun my journey,
and made this my fresh start.

I'm coming back here each day.
I will read this reminder to keep me on my way.

I sit on top of my rooftop,
eating honey and smelling flowers,
wishing on the stars and the
cracks in the pavement,
for a chance to become a bee.
if you want to give up, go ahead
I'll try to pick up the pieces as best that I can,
but just know I'll always put myself first,
besides of course
when I put you before everything else,
which will happen fairly often,
if not always
but other than 24/7-
it's all about me.
I know you are sick of my indecisiveness
and irritability
and I know nobody thinks that I notice when I start to spin out of control but
I really can feel the difference.
in the same way,
I can tell what color a rose is by the way it smells
and the gender of the bee by the way it stings,
sometimes on my pessimistic days,
I can even tell if a rose is dead
by how bad the thorns makes me bleed,
there are talents behind this shaking knee
and inability to sleep,
ones you will never see.
If you are having a bad day,
i can try to help it turn around.
but just know once I start,
I'll never stop

Bad Vibes Jul 6

You promised.

You swore.

You said you would.

We drank a little whiskey and I smiled at your goofy grin. I laughed when you bet me a stop sign that I would get sick on my 21st. Little did you know, I can handle my liquor  magnificently. We put some music on and swung-out to that 40s rhythm.

You promised you loved me.

You swore you would never leave.

You said you would always hold my hand.

I turned 21 last week and I sat in my cold apartment, alone. I did not drink, I did not smile, I did not laugh, I did not dance. Instead tears burned through my cheeks like acid rain. Instead my nose leaked into countless tissues. Instead I ignored my world.

The promises are broken.

Swearing is just curse words, now.

My hand is empty.

I turned 21 last week. I did not get sick. Now, all I can think is

Where the hell is my stop sign?


Next page