Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Archer 1h
Thereunto Sky Filled with Scars
O’er our beheld Ocean of Teeth
Seldomly Throwing Up Clouds and Stars
In sets of three for three sets of Crying Trees
Up and upon each Screaming Mountainside
Till moons pass half past a Quarter to Live
Or they shan’t view their Island in my Eye
Instead betwixt a Desert and Crude Sieve
Alas, nary a River Through our Sun
Nor a Volcano up the Arctic
Dost commit to Minds Overrun
Or coups for Governments Oligarchic
Asuka 6h
They don’t just describe emotions—
They dissect them.
Make you wonder
Why you feel,
And how much.

Some let their pens speak,
Others carry verses within—
Written on the walls of their minds,
Etched into the pulse of their hearts.

Poets are powerful.
They paint sorrow with beauty,
And make joy even more delightful.
They show us the world
Through an entirely different lens.

They can dress poverty in poetry,
And make wealth seem vainly stunning.
They stir our emotions,
Make us love deeply—
And hate just as fiercely.

We’re all born with a poet inside us.
Most just forget to listen.
To feel deeply is to write, even when no ink is spilled
I'm soaked.
Drenched.
Water logged.

There's wrinkly fingers
and prunely toes-
from a wishing well's
water spilling in my head.

The waterway
pulls me down.
The drain - body blocked,
as a river
meets my ocean.

I'm water logged.
Drenched.
Soaked.

Nothing but water.
Bones of Voss bottles,
blood from Icelandic glaciers,
spring sourced
liquid death.
A shower can turn every piece of me to jello, but it'll never figure out how to live peacefully.
Debbie 1d
I have arrived.
In the spaces between everything.
Suspended in both the sweet bliss and stark horror
the nothingness can bring.
I've searched  and scoured the astral plane
for pieces of you.
But your energy remains like a strange galactic dew.

Or do your soul's remnants exist solely
in the confines of my mind?
Is the universe really that unkind?
Don't answer.

There is never definitive proof that there is more.
I'm tangled in the eternal dissection of the mysteries
that hound my core.
In a lot of my poetry I ask the why. Still have no answer and probably never will.
miy 2d
day by day
i try to walk away.  
it chases me while i’m trying to forget.
it’s not someone, it’s something.  
feeling like i’m lost, feeling that i don’t have a say.
day by day.
i try to stay away,
stay away from the thoughts.
i don’t wanna betray myself.
trying to rely on myself.
day by day.
i just accept my fate.
is it truly mine to take?
kim 3d
I walk into the yellow kitchen
Soft buzzes come from the refrigerator
It smells of rotten memories
Maggots shroud the sink drain
My mother stands by the burning stove
Cigarette in hand
Mosquitos glint in the hard light
The windows closed
Yet you could see
From the outside
Dark shadows
Deformed and tangled
Knots in my scalp
They hurt to think about
My mother itches to pull them out
The weeds on my head
Are untamed and reek
Of ash that falls
Faint glimmers of yelling
Sprinkle the ***** floor
Another inhale
More glimmers drown
The air in the kitchen
She turns off the stove
And yells at the smoke
Covering her hand
I cover my ears
At the sudden shriek
Tears fall as I realized
I hurt my mom.
I don't always write in such a way. I think I've just been in a mood lately. Give me your thoughts. Have a good day :)
She says,

"Open up your eyes to me," while we were on a blind date.
Some opinions come a bit late; early remarks are great —
And there’s a fearful much of men, of that phrase,
"oh, I'm late."

But I fear when she's running late for our date,
And secretly isn't coming anyway.

So my eyes remain shut; as from first interactions,
It looks for us, this thing isn’t going anywhere!
Debbie 3d
Broken thoughts.  
A cracked terrain in my brain.  
Where a desolate highway stretches to  
a familiar nowhere.  
Where dreams have died,  
from thirsting too long to be alive.  
Dehydrated and depleted of happiness,
I stumble along, obsessing where I went wrong.  
There is a bird in the bramble of desire  
that entangles my heart.
Who sings oblivious joy.  
It's our ability to think,  
that is the root of our suffering.  
Mend your thoughts, change your world.
Suffering comes from our thoughts not the situation
Archer 4d
They say that choices made
(Be it by yourself, others, or nature)
Can drastically affect how a
                                 Single
Person’s life plays out.
It’s quite like the ocean that you sail on now
With the seawater swaying
                              Back
              And
Forth
Or in
Loud
Violent
STORMS
Fate works in mysterious ways
It could be high tide at one point in the day
And then later show you
Beautiful things
That were previously
                               Under           Water
You can feel at peace one second
Bobbing
^ Up ^
              And
v Down v
And then
PAnICKinG -and- DRowwnIING
The next
You inhale deeply
Breathing in the salty fresh air
The sharp cold cuts through your lungs
…it’s painful…
But you Don’t Mind
You Don’t Mind your red cheeks
  Or the crashing waves
      Or the rocking
                                 Back
             And
Forth
You only Mind having to
Leave your
|Home|
-But-
We’ll see,
We’ll see.
The greatest poem I ever wrote
was the note I left to a future friend,
a wish, I hoped, that would project
my hopeful mind, and sense of depth.

The greatest thought I ever spared
a future in a dream I'd shared.
A piece within a scene complete,
the place where mind and spirit meet.

The greatest step I ever took,
to take the time enough to look,
to raid my thoughts and scour my mind,
and on my trail my friend I find.

The greatest friend I ever knew.
The friend a thousand times consumed.
By glowing screen and jingling bell.
My friend, I wish, would be myself.
About: Being good to yourself, to your mind and body, and not drowning your nature in distractions and consumption.
Next page