Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
JIHEE Dec 2019
I get lost in my thoughts
I look for a way out
they say it gets better
but I can only doubt
I keep it inside not wanting to mention
the bad thoughts and feelings
they say it's all for attention
The late nights and long days
the endless pain
An emotionless face
silently watching the rain
My words screaming as they yearn to be free
wanting to speak and tell the world my story
And yet the only thing stopping them is me
I took the only thing they yearn for and built a wall around it
I know I'm the problem it's all because of me
I run and I hide hoping for it to end
but I've learned a life lesson
nothing changes until you learn to bend...
Fenna Capelle Nov 2019
I have been a lone wanderer for many a year
When the land was thirsty and the well was dry
Long have I roamed through solitude and tears
But the sun dried those tears as time went by

For even the lillies in their fair embroidered wear
Are as blessed as the certainty that the sun will rise each day
Should I then, the wanderer in despair
Not be blessed with an embroidered coat along my way
Taibhsear Nov 2019
Explore,
To see and grow.
Being forever true,
To hearts wind-chimed as such as mine
Today.
I have been looking into the structures and examples of cinquains. I found a poet named Adelaide Crapsey and I love what I have seen of her work so far. This poem is my attempt at working with her style.
TS Ray Nov 2019
Canopy painted by Mother Earth,
waterfalls flowing down the Görges,
canyons wedged by a
liquid quarry,
dew dropped acres prepared for a pristine  greenery,
Is beauty really in the beholders eye?

A painting on squirrels back,
eye of the peacocks feather,
wavy contours on deers horns, and
eyelashes on a hornbill.
Is beauty really in the beholders eye?

Waves wanting to reach my sand castle,
mountains growing by the cloud cover,
rivers disturbing the rocks and yet gently touching my feet,
trails that make me feel hearty.
Is beauty really in the beholders eye?

Beauty is everywhere,
It’s absolute.
It’s constant.
It’s more than that meets the eye.
Daisy Ashcroft May 2019
Tonight I lie so restlessly,
Tossing and turning continuously,
But sleep evades me and I am left alone
With just my thoughts and views on the world that is unbeknown
To everyone and no one. I am just a child,
My perspectives so naive and completely wild.
It is silent here and there is nothing but shadows
To console me when I fall into my many sorrows.

The gentle breathing of another
Calls to the loneliness that comes to smother
Me in its troubles and its woes.
Why I feel so empty, no one but God really knows.
With dreams in a far away land,
I sit up and extend a tired hand
To open the curtain that is the barrier between
My world and the real world that I have so little seen.

When the sun is slumbering in the blanket of darkness,
The sheets are my only solid harness
To keep me from slipping into the life beyond
And the peace of which I am so fond.
When the city is resting after a busy day,
I long to just simply fade away
Into the dancing pattern of stars
That seem to soften the stain of the world's many scars.

I feel no fear when I look out there
At the city that has been stopped bare
Of its many facades, leaving only the calm
That was once handed down to is by the holy Lamb's palm.
The silence is no longer a fright
For our there in the beautiful light,
Shimmering and basking in the great light,
My friend, the moon, smiles down at me and protects this little-known sight
That I have come to love and hold so dear
Every night when sleep is far from near.
Alaska Oct 2019
mind wanders
and sometimes mind gets lost
but mind always comes home
to you
finally, i can post again.
Chris Sep 2019
Just ‘cause I’m not going the way you intended for me,
Doesn’t mean I’m wrong, doesn’t mean I lost sight.
I still walk my path, though it’s not easy to see
If it’s leading right, or I’m getting left.
But what you can’t see, what you all forget:
I may be wandering, but I’ve not lost my way.
annh Apr 2019
Alas, for I am master of my pen;
But Calliope is mistress of me.
‘I kept reaching for my muses, my wandering muses, floating on clouds filled with their passions.’
- Chimnese Davids, Muses of Wandering Passions
Eldon Wangdee Aug 2019
It’s seems the air is not enough for my lungs,
I feel everything is collapsed in place,
Something is pressing on my heart to death,
I feel sleepy and I feel part of me is broken,
And I wander inside my head looking for a picture that would make sense for I have completely forgotten.
W.E
Next page