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rob kistner Aug 12

wee hours
with the sane asleep
this writer’s steeped
in conflicted inspiration

my thoughts are vague
I’m filled with doubt
words tossed about
the unyielding
empty page

I start
then stop
I write
then not
I’m caught
in merciless hesitation

fickle muse
a promise of spark
to light this dark
that grips me like a cage


rob kistner © 2007
Another contemplation on writer's block.
rob kistner Jul 27

sometimes in the clatter
of a thoughtless moment
I forget to listen

fail to hear

the tender lilt
of our heartsong

but when I am quiet
and we are close
our melody of love
is all I hear

please forgive my selfish noise
continue our sweet duet
I need your gentle voice


rob kistner © 2018
A melodic love poem. I am a sucker for love poems.
Persephone May 11
In November, the thought of pain cripples me to tears
In June, I am  an invincible goddess
On Mondays, I can withstand the gash of a  warriors blade
On Thursdays, I flinch at the slightest needle prick
At midnight, I’ll survive the fires of hell
At noon, I crumble at one touch
Jon Thenes Oct 2016
A thoughtless thought ;
a power-naught
a thought not taught
a thought ;
toughly bred
and thorough wrought
Helene Marie Apr 5
Sometimes having words
To describe your pain
Is a lot less painful
Than having no words at all

Existence of words
Fills the desolate cave inside
With thoughts
Good or bad

But at least there's something

When there's nothing
It feels too empty
Like you could just sit in silence
And stare off at stars
that don't exist
May Mar 26
The razor blades I once put against my skin cut deep

But the injurious words that spill from your mouth have always cut deeper
My mood matches today’s weather:
Sad and glum
zenithseeker Nov 2017
Thoughtless  words are the weapons  
of society ,
attacks  emotionally
Whose words only last so long,
but a toxic upshot is forever.
natalie Nov 2017
"what would you do without paper and pen?"

                                             i would scratch poems into my own skin.

                    "what would you do if there was no love?"

                                             i would take it out with the one up above.
Erik Welsh Nov 2017
t h o u g h t l e s s
i wonder if my brain doesn't know
what to think, or if it did
i wouldn't want it to.

thoughtlessness is just the veil we cover ourselves with
when you know the thought is something not needed to be said.
but some others aren't so concerned.

she curled her lips
at the expense of others;
smiled when our eyes met.
and for the 1000th time,
i was thoughtless.

uncover yourself!
liars, calm your tongues!

i wanted to explain
how discontent and irreparable i felt
from the words falling out of that woman's mouth.
it dripped, settled, and rooted itself in my heart,
missing the deep moat built to keep them out.

so i rebuilt it.
and i thought of all the ways
to keep it hidden.
t h o u g h t f u l
of gripping emotions
and little time,
i am thoughtful of you.

day in
night out

of connect the dots puzzles
found in old restaurants as kids,
we are the dots right next to each other
ready to fill in something grander.

and i am thoughtful of you.

of roots planted
in me by you,
or in you by me,
i felt connected
and rushed to say:

"of all places i'd want to be planted,
it'd be here."

of words unsaid, we might be setting ourselves up to be
star-crossed lovers, up high; harness detached, to be dropped.
but all this month i've been digging, and last night
i saw the first sparkle of gold, staring back at me
with your smile i never want to forget.

this smile not out of deception,
but adoration. comfort. belonging.

and i am thoughtful of you.

of pages read and words said,
under moonlight or incandescent bright home;
wherever we might be, i am thoughtful
of all you've done.

another day, yellow in essence
another out, black as my back turns

of those car rides up north
to fill in the rest of the dots,
i am thoughtful
of where you will be.

in this maze-like city
for the first time, i won't feel lost
for i have somewhere to be,
and you to find.

of lightly feathered emotions
and the realization we have
all the time in the world,

i am thoughtful of you.
two different poems
in reaction to two different people
in two different times
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