Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mark Parker Aug 7
A rose blooming in a summer rose bed
stops to envy you as you smell the roses.
For two beauties sit in the picture,
but neither is the rose.
The sight of you is a wonder to my eyes,
one that keeps me warm through winter days.
The grace inside you is as beauty
and beyond my words to explain.
So when I fumble my syllables,
embrace me as the rose embraces the rain.
Burden or Relief?
Love or hate?
Share or split?
Choice is ours to create the
Bond, or extricate?

Escape or accept?
Joy or pain?
Hope or fear?
Choice is yours to ensure the
Concord, or discord?

Life, deeply
Unfurls the pure truth
Of combat
Within us,
Choice either to win or lose
Or walk towards love.

- Aishwarya Sridhar
Shadorma is a Spanish 6-line syllabic poem of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable lines respectively. Simple as that, And proceeds on, with unlimited stanzas.
The clock  ticks

Pounds on the inside
Of my skull -

Need an aspirin
coffeegirl Jun 5
stay here
(on the Sofa)
  feel the Beat
   (and never go)

be my boy
  at the end
  (talk around)
    secrets of love
Context: This is a poem i wrote for a lofi album I'm working on. Each line is a song title and the album name will be Sofa Beats (like beats to listen to while doing nothing) Let me know what you think!
Sabrina May 26
I love the way her hair turns in circles,
How she cuffs her pant legs to show her shoes,
The way she hikes her pants like Steve Urkle’s
How she only wears different kinds of blues.

If my parents knew they’d certainly cry.
Such disappointment for their only kin,
But if they knew they would surely ask: Why?
My religion would view me as a sin.

My mom says I am committing a crime.
My dad says I should not think about it.
My friends say they’ll support me in due time.
My therapist says this will go to ****.

My story has no home, it is a stray;
But this story has a plot twist. I’m gay.
A sonnet for those who wish they could be themselves.
annh May 1
I watch him tapping, from the corner of my eye.
Left hand. Pointer to pinkie. Sequentially.
Beginning and re-beginning.
Defeated, intent, scowling, jubilant.
In my imagination he is a poet, counting syllables.
Writing haiku in his head, as he waits in traffic for the light to turn green.

‘You've got to be kid-
Well, crud, what just happened there?
I ran out of syl-‘
- Rick Riordan, The Hidden Oracle
Trefild Mar 31
hardest party with beauties and saddo
husband's wifey is choosing bolt cutter
**** gets naughty with ****** at brothel
noxious youngin threw toolkit at father
wanton hottie is looking for lover
son is eyeing good-looking step-mother
some ****-dropping is pooping on flower
punk's just gotten caboose-kicked by copper
dumbest blondies are students of Harvard/Oxford
Trump went shopping with Putin for armor [oops, this one is risky]
US Eng
Shakytrumpet Dec 2019
Heptasyllabic, and then
I wrote this for national poetry month last year hope you all enjoy this as much as my English instructor did
Samuel Hoffmann Nov 2019
I used to say I wish to never ever fall in love.
But now I’ve met this girl and want to wish that all away.
Because even after all this time now I want to change.
So open my heart, break me apart, Im looking to fall in love.
Well yes...

I’m also playing around with extremely long yet rhythmic lines and seeing if I can make them work.
Poetic T Oct 2019
Twenty somethings
         were neve enough

to stockpile the realisation,

                       that I needed

          more words to tell you that....
some times to be subdued by limitations means i need more time.
Next page