Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Star BG May 2017
Secrets of a poet are hidden inside heartbeats,
ready to be played on scripted page,
on platform for readers eyes.

They're buried beneath scar thought to be healed.
Exposed to bleed once again
so a poem can be birthed.

Perhaps, Secrets are inside rays of sun
that dance with kaleidoscope beauty
inside a warm breeze.

Or on top of a shooting star moving in galaxy
that opens one to wish inside a breathe.

Secrets in treasure chest of scribes vault
welcomes a readers eyes
with key-like words and strong intention.

Come, open the vault with eyes and partake
wont you?  The invitation is now given.
Inspired by Sunprincess poem Writing
ryn Jun 2016
Relegate your thoughts
into the vault.
The mind isn't ready
to deal in absolute.

Banish into oblivion,
untimely discrepancies and faults.
When infractions are unclear
for you to refute.

Consign the arrogance,
into the darkest dark.
Let them fester,
never to see light of day.

Cradle the fear,
nurse it till ripe, engorged and stark.
For everything now lies...
Indefinite and in the grey.
Mary Alexander Feb 2016
My heart has a vault
Hidden deep in its core.
A deep understanding
Of something I wish not to explore.
The knowledge of what I'll eventually choose.
The purpose of the person I'm not willing to lose.
But that knowledge, this purpose,
I'd rather ignore.
Because there's a chance that my heart
Could crash to the floor.
The sentiment, idea, and truth in this vault,
Could ruin it all
And that would be my fault.
Knowing what you really feel *****.
I accept my faults
I sometimes go back into my own little vault
And return when the time is right
But now there isn't any hiding
I'm walking towards the road I've wanted to walk on bruised or not bruised
I already healed from the damage
That was caused
I can't look behind me
The city of Dreamers are welcoming me and it's only a limited time offer.
Your bust is going to make me combust
Turning my pain into rust
Your soul should be one of the few things i trust
A pizza with a refined crust
You're steaming when the summer kicks in
And even in the winter
Can you remove all my emotional splinters?
It would be preferred
I'd thank you endlessly
From the bottom of my heart
To the end of days
You're radiating like the Sun Rays
It's seventy degrees out here and i'm about to sweat like it's a hundred
Rain won't come my way
Because i won't allow it
Too much to handle
Causing the brakes to halt
Melting steel in my mental vault
All you need to do is consult
Me and we'll be fine
That's what i like most of the time
Forget about the dollars and dimes
I'm ready to take us to the next colony
So you don't have to fend off the rest of the male species
With that amazing presence of yours
I can feel the pressure
I like physical pressure too
With you
I like this one lol
Benjamin Novak Apr 2015
Await amongst the clouds searching for whom to be,
I stand here now silently entrenched with what I see,
A vivid gaze I do afford though few and far between,
The slimming wealth of all those helped desperate to reconvene,

I wont pull away yet to find grounded truths I must,
The banks on offer within the vault tears rain through the lust,
I cling to those of faith without the strength for what to give,
Is it wrong to sing along yet forget the words to live.,
Charlie Mar 2015
you should have been named warning
you should have had an orange label
you should have alerted me of your potency
and
I should have been more careful

Uh-oh, old sad poetry!
Q Dec 2014
bewildered that this text
this forgotten scribe
uplifts the feelings
i try so hard to bury inside

this scribbled stanza
relieves pressure and pain
slowly allowing me to
stop reliving the shame

words once read
in black and white
submerged in emotions
high, light, and bright

letting your painted face
in my memory vault fade
ebbing in the distance
while these words continue to invade

funny is that our feelings exist
so playful and irrational
yet followed zealously
feels greater than feels, professional

*s.q.
Hannah Taylor Aug 2014
Hands are shaking but I know they won't fail.
Stepping up the the line - my sixty mark.
This is nothing like running on a trail.
Different from hitting out of the park.

The run-up looks easy but it's quite hard.
Counting steps to correctly plant the pole.
To pull myself up, my arms must be barred.
My body must have the strength of a troll.

Powerful kick to get to inversion.
The sensation of being upside down
is nasty and takes complete conversion.
I fly up and over the bar and town.

And the difference between me and you:
my parents are proud of the high I do.

— The End —