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Jay M Apr 2020
There are stories
Written short to the naked eye
But to the eye of the poet;
There are potential volumes
Of verses and lyrics
Occasional verses and ballads

Hidden all around
Some at first so beautiful
Petals of a bright red rose
The color, fragrance, and corolla appeal
Then seen are the thorns
Sharp as small daggers
Some never to ***** flesh
Others bound to draw blood

Healthy presentation
Good taste and style
Sweet little smile
Glimmering eyes
Melodic voice
Thoughtful and observant
So why the hesitation?

Were those eyes truly glimmering,
Or were they swarming flies,
Hovering over a rotting heart?

That melody
Could it have been giving a choice?
Be wary and don't take the bait
Or be lured by a siren?

Was that thoughtfulness of pure intent
Or will it be a future lament?
Were they so observant
Because they were captivated by you
Or to use blackmail and make you a servant?

- Jay M
April 29th, 2020
The purpose of this poem is to sketch how there is a story in everything, and there is much more than meets the eye. Some eyes may see more, but never the whole entirety of what lies before them. The speaker in this piece is a person who speaks from experience, thinking they knew someone but only having scratched the exterior. When writing this poem, I had to consider how the speaker would be able to express their experience without doing into details (to be open for others to relate to and connect with).

*This poem is being included in my Poetry Portfolio for my Creative Writing class, and I really hope it's good enough.

**When I read this to one of my sisters, she said, "It's Twilight! It's all Twilight!" Well, no, but if you think of it that way it somehow makes sense.. Hah, I didn't see that one coming.
I had heard the foghorn of my loneliness;
And heard it again, as its whisper of an echo bounced off the wall behind me

I had grown so skillful,
An artist in giving small things around me mouths to speak, and eyelids to blink, languidly...
Keeping company with puzzles and rain puddles,
And giving each piece a sensible place in our misshapen realm

Trying to place the puddles,
I observed the feminine qualities of the gentle dips in the landscape,
One being their proclivity for mollifying such a tumultuous force as weather

I watched as the many depressions of the earth wept,
The looming Nimbostratus filling them wholly, the downpour continuous;
And found it fitting to think that each puddle held its place as a notable fragment in the jigsaw of a swamp that was beginning to form in my backyard.

In that moment, I suppose it was my place to be forming a thought about that swamp
And how I could compare it, in all its watery pieces, to something else in some poetic way.
Word by word,
Carefully,
So I could write it down on paper later.
Simon Apr 2020
Having a masters degree about anything isn’t that much when it comes to actually having it, itself…isn’t it…? Only if one were to become mutually thoughtful right off the bat about how insightful it is to be the master’s degree itself…is to persuade the thoughtful contemplation's ahead of schedule over one’s very insight. Because you see, there all the same. Insight and thoughtful. Heck! There even what you’d call (one in the same)! That being said, I’d like to think that the more (something) were to come out of context altogether without a whisper of a (someone) whimpering without knowing (what or if) contemplation's itself hast to add in both words known as insight or thoughtful…? One or the other doesn’t STAND A CHANCE when it comes to (something) without figuring out what a simple masters degree is all about. As this may sound like a lot of rambling… B-but it’s both a tasteless virtue and variety…all at the same single interval type of spectacle. And speaking of spectacles…. (Who) or MORE like (what)…is the actual spectacle…? Well obviously, no one in particular! It’s just a random statement just simply (wanting) to escape and flutter out endlessly without a moment’s thought. This is what being open-minded is all about! Especially when it comes to being simply thoughtful while (still) full of insight. Where the contemplation's aren’t agreeable before the very simulations of either being both full of (insight and thoughtful) even had a chance to keep up with you (yourself) as the master’s degree full of all this hip and happening type of fluttering inspirational sparks flying off again…without a moment’s thought! Meaning, (IT’S) treating itself to a very good time! A-and what exactly is (tre-eating) itself to a very good time…? Well…are you CRAZY or WHAT…?! Don’t you see the clearer truth for a lackluster simulation for non-realizations for (self)?! Because I sure doo! And it’s both marvellous and magnificent! S-so in the end, what does all this entail exactly…? Easy! First: everything isn’t made up in your own little immature average noggin. Two: nothing is completely foreseeable when (something) isn't completely sought out to be right for the ABSOLUTE…BETTER! And three: as if there’s anything more to add in the safest of descriptions among its simulation for examples. For nothing is ever right, when something isn’t known to believe it can stride onward towards a master’s degree of insight and thoughtful contemplation's when everything is truly meant to be for the ABSOLUTE…BETTER! Simply when you have the simplest of behavioral attitudes wavering you down for one’s attention span to catch you in a staggering fall of trust. Especially when that very attention span, is your crutch to simply (with minor difficulties) to keep you upright without completely falling over. Then falling prey to your own justified goods full of the very negative ramifications that your own behavioural attitudes wanted you to believe into catching that very follow-up. That’s when (you) will know for ALL THE LUCKIEST STARS IN THE GALAXY! That everything doesn’t come before you… As being open-minded is never the lackluster for choice among its trustful guidance to see otherwise. As it’s luckier to see everything to the very end. Even if (seeing something to the ABSOLUTE ending point) sparks a gesturable nudge in the right direction for (self) to tell equally all things apart for the (again and again…ABSOLUTE…BETTER)! Once you come to understand its very information so it’s simulation for compatibility will make it’s match clean without very tough or rough or rigid testifying guilty pleasures from exhausting all efforts towards those very (ABSOLUTE ending points). Then one could (for the ABSOLUTE…BETTER) actually afford to comprehend its very choice over luck which molds together to then validate a (hopeful serenity) form of trust just isn't what it’s all cracked up to be! As that’s both (seemingly and supposedly) to be the actual case. B-but is it, really?! Especially if that very individual isn’t up to standards when its form is nothing but basic plastic with a VERY grungy transparency. This is when you’d (thought) to be the very master’s degree student without failing to notion about just how far you’ve come when confronting (self) away from the very contemplation's that seemingly and supposedly come (without fail) firstly. Before you could have any time to self-react towards your own thoughts and feelings transcribing themselves into there own (want’s and needs) about the type of insight and thoughtfulness you’d like to share globally with a higher petition about what (self) is all about. Now, who’s next…?!
Nothing is EVER truer than what comes with mistrust to a global faction full of rust never correctly seeing the obvious, when it’s TRULY staring you RIGHT IN THE FACE! All so it can presumingly justify the goods for self-assertion isn’t totally costly when coming to everything that might just turn out for the ABSOLUTE…BETTER!
John Morrissey Apr 2020
dusty streets lie calm and grey
the people have abandoned them
except for walks to the supermarket
savouring fresh gusts, the swirl of clouds
to return again home, air-soaked,
lunch and books in an armchair
full of past thoughts, future desires

morning dawns to steaming black coffee
evening glows like warm cheery wine
little pleasures by full windows
as conversation sparks in homes and phones
looking out longing, pining for sunshine
time, time is all there is now, long path
leading out to the rest of our lives
Barcelona, Spain (April, 2020)
Isabel Levy Apr 2020
Time is flying like a butterfly,
While my mind soars like a vulture
Broad, starving, and searching
A desert of what life was lies beneath me

Every creature, every semblance of what was
Has hidden away. Even the night owls
Are forced to scavenge close to home

Wind trembles under my wings
I command where I want to be taken but
Everything is empty

The watering hole is a mirage
The trees have forsaken their leaves
The carcasses that would have fed me
Have been picked over by rabbits and mice
Before the coyote or eagles
Could have even smelt it

And what is left for me?
I hope for a bone, gristle, maybe even fur
Something to put away the gnawing hunger
That echoes fervently inside my head

And yet
Even the starving wind has eaten away
The fur and crushed bones
Which the sun had also devoured into dust

Shall I land? Allow my feet to once again
Touch the sands that I've refused to acknowledge
And, somehow, truly begin to feel the fire
Of the sky beating down on me
As it has with every other creature...

Or shall I fly on?
Slowly, hopeful of the next scape
Being led by a careless butterfly
Which ***** it's wings as an infant walks
Only resting for food and drink

But... aren't I also as that?
A being that soars, not caring to see
What is below or around me
As my goal is not the frog
Not the eagle
Not even the wolf

My goal is me, tomorrow
As each flap of the butterfly's wings
Is valued at less than a drop of morning dew
The relentless need to push on
Is in symmetry between it and I
So, I must fly on.

Above the wasted desert
Beyond the wind of bones
Beside the sun that drinks us away
And behind the butterfly
Which never, once, thought of me
Cautiously, and realistically, optimistic
Brendann Mar 2020
Me?
I’m a mediocre man, I see only, a pale personality,
I used to see myself as one of the greats, but that time has long since passed
as there is no need to see color, I’m but a lone survivor
How could anyone, choose to love thee, for I am constant downcast
yet your beauty supersedes, my weary mask, unsurpassed
waiting, I've been, at long last

Choose the right path, you must take, for a life with me might not meet standards
and choose me you once did, lifting my spirits, and changing my downed feelings
but change that is good, only lasting so long, must now change again
seeing life without you, what we could have, I’m almost dreaming
from my mind, I realize I never, want to catch that feeling
just another human being
Syllables =  17, 18, 16, 15, 15, 7
Rhyming scheme = abcbbb
2 stanzas
Devil Atticman Feb 2020
Love is more than tender words!
Love is to have spoke them first.

In love, which many feel to all,
Still one before another falls.

Is love the 'life' and 'death' in dance;
A shield that not let either pass?

Know that love drives every hand,
So 'love' met 'love',
And razed their lands.
dati dizu dan dato chipu
Dennis Hernandez Feb 2020
To devote one’s words to the eyes of another
Is to devote one’s thoughts to the mind of no other,
For, in my mouth and out yours,
The words are all there,
But the thoughts none.

And everyone thinks
That everyone thinks
That anyone thinks
At all.

We fail to attend to our own thoughts,
Only the thoughts of those others,
Who have the thoughts of none.

United in silence,
Thoughtlessness,
Who really has won?
The placement of thoughts
Sneha shenoy Feb 2020
My moon although far,
Always with me.
Thee have not thyn own light,
But still Thou didst share with me
Only stars & no moon,
can there be one night ?
Moonlight always be my favourato
Moon be a special part of me.
Thee stare at me and I stare at thee
Hiding the rose, Shalt I go on my knee
I tell you I love you
I kno you ment for stars and not me.
Thou refuse to come down
Don't u say find ur sun &
love the sunshine,
Heads up prince,else falls ur crown
I want not sun but your smile,Divine.
No I'm not here to rip you off the stars
Breaking you from the cosmos
Or Usurp thy kingdom nor throw deciet..
Im here to see you wax
Though you may hide in clouds
I still kno you're there.
I stay here watching thee
Don't be stubborn I don't need sun
Before the sky turns grey,
It's important I tell you
"Moon it's me not you who's first to wane"..
Now you kno poem rhymes not
Cuz it's bout the timing and not the rhyming
In some time I be a memory alone
For I am  destined to wane.
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