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L Leonelli Jan 2019
How come I can't stay focused?
I tend to overthink...

What is it that is making me waste all this ink?
It's mwe Jan 2019
Your permanent melody
isn't the first one I've heard
But smiling,
was the only reaction I did
And I felt strange
of being a tone in your melody

I come down to the balcony lately
catching the sun with its orange
that showers the ground perfectly
As you know,
I'll always love how it rises up
and even goes down shiverly
together with your harmony

I don't sound like any other tone
And none of them are grim
I mean.. yeah
They are made for your ears
Mine, it doesn't sound rhythmic
but none of them are gimmick
You may wanna hear them in the attic.

Oh I'm glad I am me.
I made this under the light, and it's white. So i titled this Whilight.
Poetic T Jan 2019
I have wrote till the pencil
  is nothing more than splinters
              needed to be pulled from my mind.

But still I reflect my emotions
                        on blank spaces.
Nothing is visual, but is spoken
                                 on the paper.

I cant reflect on my words
                 even though
                      everyone is filled with tears.
Never wiping them away,
but filling each one
      with syllables descending tearfully.

I have never let another read a word
             that's blotched on satin white,
contaminating its moment with the
         silent verses that'll never be read.

My words are silent, I'm the lonely poet,
             who's verses are not even read
                                             by yours truly.
         there just moments blind on paper.
Sandoval Sep 2018
I bleed
words

not blood;

so if you hurt me,

I'll scar
verses,

not wounds.


*Sandoval
Repost from a while ago. ♥
A M Ryder Aug 2018
We wanted to be bulletproof
MC's with M-16's and enough money to buy our freedom from the very same blocks we bragged about in our verses
We weren't hypocrites, we were just literate in the language of loss
We weren't rich, but we knew some people were and that they seemed to laugh a lot more often.
I don't laugh all that often anymore..
I'm not sure when we forgot that we were giants
Twalib Mushi Jul 2018
You are a beautiful song
Beauty enough to turn me on
Forever you make me strong
With your flawless melodic tone.

You are my favorite song
I keep in my heart and singing
To this hard life as stone
We better live before we're gone.

You are my cradlesong
Soothing me as I lie down.

You are that metallic song
With fine drawing body of verses
I dare to keep you long
With those tenacious, beguiling chorus.

You are my song
I constantly reiterating
Only glancing at you
I don't need playlist on you.
Nis Jul 2018
New notebook.
Savagely ripping through the white paper,
stripping it of its white pureness.
Crossing dots,
meeting lines,
poetry on the making.

I love how my poetry
is modified by its support.
I had a bigger notebook before,
my verses hang like open bottles,
restlessly unending.
Now its smaller, shorter.
Just phrases separated by the end of the line
and hurry up 'cause the page is ending.
Pretty self-explanatory
Anne Scintilla Jul 2018
Question:

But without these words, the thought would not be complete.
Words are enough to achieve a certain feat.
Verses bring life to complex emotions from stone.
But some emotions are better expressed by words alone.

Answer:

Words may be a brainchild of the senses,
a cousin of shrouded feelings,
a distant lover of hopeful wishes.

But it would always remain in papyrus,
in coffee-stained napkins,
in the whisper of the breeze.

What are compound syllables without action,
without justified reason,
without the process for progress.
this is one of my anonymous favorite poetry exchange. we often forget that there are two sides in the same coin.

thank you for reading.
AS
Colm Jul 2018
You'll know him
Or her
When you see them
A steady person
With an intriguing glance
Masking a world inside
Sound it.
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