Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
annh Feb 2019
Ah - the weekend!
Time to open my emotional closet,
Have a good rummage around,
And find something we both can wear.
‘Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.’
- Robert Frost
Vic Sep 2019
I've rarely wished
For a weekend
To be over more.
A "poem" every day.
Aden Aug 2019
Woke up and a feel rough
Lord knows that a drank enough
In way past midnight
Looking out to the day light
Need to rebuild my energy
Cuppa t is the remedy
When a man's from Yorkshire
No milk is torture
Wanna go back to bed
Have a nap like im dead
Had too much whisky
Scotch is always risky
Then was drinking red wine
Deffo not fee ling fine
"Goes to my heaaaaad"
Is an under statement
My head fell off on the pavement

Never wanna drink again tell me what you think again now I wanna start again shoulda smoked the reef instead


Now I really need hydration
Or maybe migration
Did i say something bad
Did I make someone mad
Woke up and I feel rough
Lord knows that I drank enough
Clearly have a hangover today.
Vic Aug 2019
My girlfriend is comming over tomorrow.
We'll have a barbeque with my family and some friends. The day after we'll go to an amusement park with everyone. It's one of the most fun weekends of the year. <3
A "poem" every day.
MicMag Aug 2019
friday afternoon
navigating carefully
senses heightened
on constant alert
always prepared
for an unforeseen encounter

they're scattered
all around town
like a living
breathing
moving
minefield

sighs of relief
as you enter a safe zone
and turn a corner
when out of nowhere

BAM

face-to-face with a coworker

muscles tense
heart sinks
mouth fakes a smile

as awkward small talk commences
and slowly drifts
to the one subject
you'd so desperately
tried to escape

work

and the week stretches on
into your precious weekend
Nigdaw Jun 2019
I lie here, supine
Listening to sirens
Heading out towards the motorway
Somewhere, someone's evening
Has turned bad,
In the streets outside the echo
Of teens on mopeds
Reverberates between the
Terraced houses, squeezing
All they can out of a 125 engine
While squeezing all the joy that is left
Out of everyone's sunday night,
Before we all head meekly to work
On monday morning
Weekend warriors, tamed by
The restraints of finances,
Needing to earn the freedom
Of another fix next friday.
I lie here on my side
A pillow blocking at least some
Of the cacophony,
More sirens head out towards
The motorway, someone's life
Has turned into a disaster
All I wanted was an early night.
Hanging on by a thread,
I feel like the walking dead,
Can't wait to go back to bed,
Oh Lord! When will this week end?
Finally finished this poem.. School.. I know a little too late..
Next page