Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Zywa Jun 14
Lilith was just like him -
from the clay, not as docile
as me; she left him

She prefers to roam
the world, seducing
men in the evening and robbing

families of their babies
so say the malicious tongues
that blacken everyone

who does not fit in their rules
It's true that she lives in trees
like a snake, I saw her once

at least, I think it was she
who praised me for my brain
and showed me the ripe fruits

With Adam I got two children
rib from his ribs, blood of my blood
The third was later made up

by the false tongues
that whitewash everything
that does not fit in their rules
Cain, the oldest, was called Seth by his descendants, to cover up that he committed a ******

Collection "From Sacred Scriptures [1]" #3
Zywa Jun 4
The grand narratives

didn't really happen that way --

they are lies, true lies.
Collection "Secrets & Believers"
Kamal Jun 2
Drowning in a deathly quiet
Thinking and making plans

A bug keeping me company
Humming a forgotten tune

The phone is dead
The tv is churning non sense

So many stories left to tell
Love verses to spread


My hand is heavy
My heart is empty
Living without you
Persephone May 25
She stuck a to sticker his arm
But did not like the placement so she switched it to his heart
He left it there for a while
Growing warn and a little faded
Till one day he decided to take it off
He declared it been on to long
And when gone
It left a little residue
Yemaya May 18
meant to transcend paper
this complex hand
reaching out
to hold your mind
for just a moment
myself urges to understand
with no capacity to bear despair
i try to rest somewhere
between the thoughts
i am unable to sense sweet words:
a full well illusion
engagements with People
Zywa May 1
All stories are true,

somewhere in the world, and here --

they may happen too.
"De Bijbel voor ongelovigen -- Het verhaal van Abiga-il" ("The Bible for unbelievers - The story of Abiga-il"), 2015, Guus Kuijer


Collection "Chance"
pandemoniac Feb 22
the pen is not mighty
the lily is not pure

and blood is not vengeful nor beautiful
it is just red

but i like stories

that white shirt you once wore
now yellow with use
that sweater you've had for years
adorned with the patches
of accidents gone by
that scar on your back
from when you fell off a swing
those lines by your lips
the remnant of a smile
and a smile and a smile

I like stories
i love reading yours

there are rabbits on my moon
divinity in my incense
my oaks stand mighty
my sun rides a chariot

park benches donated in memory
hasty scribbles on classroom benches
superstitions about crows and cows
love stories to make word games

i come from a world of stories
where the people are made
of matter and molecule
of memory and metaphor

i like stories
and this one's my favourite
a little happy poem i wrote when i was bored in class
Allesha Eman Feb 19
In the allure of this thin air
Streetlights tell stories
Of snowflakes and rain drops waltzing
You put out your hand
Threads of your heart
Fall into place like hourglass sand
Hoping to catch some remnants of time
But on these darkest nights
Where dawn seems to have faded
Into the midnight sky
We count snowflakes
As if counting sheep
Falling asleep to the sound
Of the beating hearts on our sleeves
Anais Vionet Jan 22
(a poem in 2 Senryus)

We carefully choose
bits of our lives that we then
weave into stories.

Like birds building nests,
making the safe places that
keep and define us.
Next page