Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
It might be said:

Tumbling down my treacherous, traitorous tower,
Of hope I thought was the greatest petal of my flower.
Reflecting, refracting,
Revisioning my thoughts
For the hour of my death was a second from naught.

The flower of petals,
Of dazzling, daunting life,
Of elegant, empathetic love…
I never realised all of such would be tough
To truly clench,
Feel,
Hold in my eyes,
When every other petal was crowded with lies
Which confidently smiled and smirked in my face,
Convinced me,
To irrevocably love this life with haste,
To grin at the tower, smoothened with glace.

The flower of formidable life,
Of practical love,
Of transposing colour.
Vibrancy spread by its central, salient stigma.
Of secrets,
Confessions of my imperfection,
My disinterest in life,
In simulated lovers,
In sensual, plastic, flexible hardcovers.

And so I glanced at
The departing turret,
The surreal, realistic, reality of life,
Of people who live,
But do not really live,
For the petal which fell,
Decided never decide to give
Its distinctive love to anybody other
Than the traitorous hand which pulled,
Tore, and Crushed its heart,
And left it to stumble upon its death.

Naught.
He once asked me, "What is love?"
Paige Error Dec 2018
My head is spinning like the vinyl record I bought you for Valentine’s Day.
I thought a break from the stresses of pre-engineering.
Would be good for me but if that means being near you maybe not.
So I’ll just lock myself in the highest tower of my mind and pretend I’m
Far
           Far
                           Away
I’d let you in but I kinda chopped off my hair
On a scale of 1 to Lord of All,
how important is your
your opinion of what others create?

I see you, through these sigils,
pretending every breath you took
is a doctorate.

Did you know you dont have to choose between being the brush or the brush ******?
You could build boats,
hunt ghosts with broken radios,
climb mountains to commune with the dead,
stare at the stars and make
your own constellations,
or play ukulele alone with a head full of acid.

All I am saying is
there are far better plotlines
than playing sovereign king of the
swamp that swallows you
and believing it be noble.
Shewrites Nov 2018
Wish you were here with me
Gazing upon the city lights
under the starry sky
And we'll hang a lovelock
in the bridge
with our names
engraved on it.
Today was cold
Because of Autumn's breeze
Wrap me around
Your cozy arms
And make me warm
I miss your touch.
I miss you
And ill see you soon my love!


Lots of love
Shekinah
jace Oct 2018
Up high in the tower
In somewhere it's hidden
A withering flower
For a heartbroken maiden

As petals fall
From up to the floor
Memories I recall
Of moments out the door

As blue as the sea
His eyes would glisten
Handsome he may be
He still wouldn't listen

With words I was swayed
With the voice of a prince
Promising he would stay
Was enough to convince

But another flower appeared
And he stared to abandon
A situation I feared
Has already happened

With word I tried to woo
With the voice of a maiden
Wishing something I could do
To win back his affection

But as blue as the sea,
His eyes may glisten
As handsome he may be
He still wouldn't listen

The withering flower
In my hand I hold
Up here in the tower
With my story untold

And as petals fall
In such a late hour
Memories I recall
To the floor from the tower
Haven't been posting in a while, super ******* busy
Engineer -
Building towers,
Building walls,
Building keeps,
Are you -
Reaching for the sky?
Trying to guard something in?
Trying to fortify?
Building towers to mimic flight,
Building walls to keep them out
Or keep something, someone, in
Building keeps to keep,
But to keep what?
I might ask,
Hamlet, what are you building
In that kingdom of yours?
What are you trying to achieve?
Yenson Sep 2018
Woof.....woof.....woof...woof....woof....wooof

Some Red setters dogs are eating Jewish people
in England
But why, do call them off, they are british people,
The are hard working, Industrious, Entrepreneurs,
Professors, Doctors, Lawyers, Bankers, Entertainers
Scientists, Writers, eminent Surgeons, Artists, these
are nice Britons....stop the dogs, stop the dogs.....

Woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof...woof woof

Some Red Setters dogs are eating and biting some
Labour MPs all over the country

But why, do call off the dogs, No! we have a list and this list,  highlighted the behaviour of a number of Left MPs, including Jess Phillips for telling Corbyn’s ally Diane Abbott to “*******”, John Woodcock for dismissing the party leader as a “******* disaster” and Tristram Hunt for describing Labour as “in the ****”
and all the other hard working Moderate MPs who dared protest at Anti-Semitic stance or supported the Jews .

Woof.....woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof...woof

Some Red Setters dogs are devouring some minor
Royal from Africa

But why, do call off the dogs. No that ****** has a big ****, he's
Charismatic, intelligent, wholesome, has good work ethics, polite,
wise, charming, generous, witty and a ****** good lover and to top it all he's Royal. Now that's ******* GREEDY, how much can a
******* man have. NO! he's a goner. He is too perfect, he must be hounded and persecuted to death.

Woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof.....woof.......woof
Grrr­.....woof.....Grrrrr....woof...wooof...Grrrr....wooof

Congratula­tions People, we have got rid of them all
we now have real democracy, we have a real society now
Get in the dogs ... And all you useless ******* people shut up!
And report to the Labor Camps 7:30a.m. tomorrow
You're Working Class and now you ****** have to work!
Chuka Umunna says Labour has become an institutionally racist organisation as evident from those MPs and members forced out of Labour under Jeremy Corbyn, and he urged the leader to “call off the dogs”.
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
I hear the carve of oars,
I see your palms enfold the wood,
as shards of stars shred
a back and glistening wave.

I hear the carve of oars,
the shore is breached,
we reach dank granite stairs, climb
a tower in moon gritty light.

I hear the carve of oars,
you speak, your turgid cheek
blue-steel-gray, your gaze grates,
my salt raged eyes summon waves and stars.

I hear the carve of oars,
waves rattle a candle's flame,
chill the bed frame, the wet stony room ––
the door closes, it scrapes.

I hear the carve of oars,
I know your lurching gate,
the clank as both oar lock’s turn,
you slip the shore,
I hear the carve of oars

Copyright © 2002 Gary Brocks
180928F

They didn't get along
Aa Harvey Aug 2018
Looking up at you.


Standing here all alone in the rain;
Outside your home trying to hide my pain
And hiding away,
From each and every feeling that I have today.


Wishing I could heal your heart;
Knowing I will never be a part,
Of that life you live, alone in the dark.
But I will try my best to heal your broken heart.


Looking up at your balcony,
Wishing you were into me;
Like I will always be into you.
Loving you from here is so easy to do;
Down in my darkened sanctuary.


Summer is gone, but you bring me warmth;
When I think about you.
How I wish I could be there for you,
When you are feeling blue.


You look down on me from your ivory tower;
I stand here a man, with a bunch of flowers.
Come join me down here on planet Earth my love
And the two of us shall live in bliss forever more.


(C)2015 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Brandon Conway Aug 2018

One tower falling
We all gazed, boss yells at us
"Get back to work!" CRASH!
Trying to combine dark comedy into haikus.
Next page