Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
alex 7h
Is to observe the world
in all its intricate detail
To hear all the
unspoken words
To be a watcher at every moment
but never to be watched

From all the dark corners
where the whispers reach
is a fly, soundless, immobile
seeing all
yet seen by none
dee 2d
Let my love be a lighthouse not a leash.
In silence I find clarity.
In an ocean that rations tenderness I chose to love fully;
in standing because I shall not drown.
I honor the confusion surrounding cowardice.
in liberation because finding the correct lenses to help you see clearly is senseless.
I am silenced
anchored.
restricted.
You are fear itself,
eating yourself whole
Because in your silence ego is more powerful than rejection.
Refusal that has no room in our lifetime.
You fear the narratives made by your declaratives.
In recalibration
In indecision
In soft invocation that anchors do not move unless the ocean calls them too.
In intuition, I observe
I shake the water down to the sea floor
where everything hidden is now bare.
In declaration,
I know everything you feel
In realization you may come to find;
that alignment takes time
Let my love be a lighthouse
In presence and you’ll learn to come correct
In reflection.
In strength.
In truth.
In silence.
by the time it clicks I’ll be gone :)
Pain poured from my being, dripping from my fingertips like blood. Emotion scaled the walls and crept into my heart like a silent scream.
My heart beat inside my mind, its pace quickening, and my senses heightened.
My body felt the ache of the war that tore through me.
I am still healing from the battles this world has ****** upon me.
My body feels like a war zone.
I gasp through the tremors of pain, night terrors clinging to my sheets.
My jaw is tight from clenching; pain is a constant, and I am still here.
I am still fighting.

-Rhia Clay
This poem is very personal to me. I have PTSD from my time in the military, and I wrote it recently to express the feeling of being triggered. The preparation for war, the experience of war itself, and all that occurs in between are not pretty. Military service and the invisible battles faced by those who serve—often without the permission to show their struggles—can take a significant toll, with some paying the price for a lifetime. I do have many good days, but this poem was not written on one of them. Thank you for taking the time to read this note and my poem.
How can one be that obsessed with someone?
How could anyone in the whole world wake up one day
With the eagerness to see just one face for the rest of their life?
How could anyone grab oranges and not even think of eating them as soon as they touch their hands
Because they can’t think of anything else but getting home to share them with someone?
How, how, how?

Why do I feel like the sun is not bright enough if I don’t get to see your smile?
Why does chocolate taste like charcoal when I’m not eating it with you?
And why do I go out of my way to have the pillow always ready for your head,
Because I’m scared your thoughts might drift away and lie to your face about how beautiful you are?
Why, why, why?

What is it that makes me want to write you poems,
Even when the alphabet of my life is missing the letters y, o, and u?
What is it that screams at me to wash your shoes,
When mine look like dirt was made for them?
What is it that runs through my veins every time the stars you call eyes
Look through the cloth I call soul?
And I know it’s more than blood, and I know it’s more than love.

My love, how can someone beg for you
In the middle of the night, between the sheets of a broken work of art?
My Lord, how can someone love with such clouds and lilies in the park,
And chamomile tea in the morning, while you fill up my heart?
Sometimes I think I just write everything I wish someone would say to me
Yuzuko 5d
P)erspective is a kind, optimistic one
O)ne that is playful and fun
S)eeks answers in a adventures way
I)n the mind the light outshines the grey
T)ruth seekers in this lying, destructive world
I)ndirectly impacting and affecting another’s world
V)ictims to hate and utter destruction
E)ven moving with a head held high though the corruption
What does it mean to be positive? take a deep look at your heart and soul... find the moon!
When the sun sets at night
losing its colors in the sky
All those colors wont be bright
Now a cloak of darkness has set to fold
Only to get those fancy golds
All those diamonds you had sold
The night no longer has its dew
The sky no longer shines anew
No comets and no stars
only dead heroes of wars
With those times we cant par
Now with only that dead sea of ours
The night has died
The roses have withered
And the leaves have wilt
Long ago they once said
Once you shall meet your doom
When darkness shall devour the moon
Your thrones your crowns would crumble soon
That's the end you shall meet
That's the storm you shall greet
All the darkness has consumed
All of me and All of you
__tsuki no ume
For those who still believe
Happy Fourth of July
And for those who lost hope
Happy firework night
Come, sit by my side,
tell me of the dreams this world has yet to break.
Honestly, tell me your fears,
and I will try to offer you my hope.

-Rhia Clay
Sarayu Jul 2
I am the reason this world keeps moving.
I don’t see the difference between rich and poor.
I don’t care if you are young or old.
Before me everyone stands equal.

I am the driving force behind industries
Agriculture, medicine, education, and pharma
All exist, somewhere, because of me.

I am the one who teaches you what life truly is.
For some, I’m not just a feeling
I am a destination.

Some will never know how I feel.
Some will never know the blessing of my absence.

Everyone earns to silence me,
Yet most end up learning to live with me.

One side of the world swallows pills to awaken me,
While the other side folds hands before God,
Begging for a cure to destroy me forever.
I can push you to achieve greatness.
I can drag you to the most painful death.

Be it happiness or sorrow,
Be it light or darkness,
Be it birth or death
I am the one that never leaves.

But I wear many faces.
Sometimes I am physical.
Sometimes I am emotional.

Call me by any name:
In Telugu - Aakali.
In Hindi  - Bhookh.
In Tamil  - Pasi.
In Bengali  - Khudha.
In Kannada - Hasivu.
In Malayalam - Vishappu.


Different tongues. Different words.
But the feeling I bring?
It lingers the same
In every heart,
In every home,
Across every corner of this world.

While some plates overflow,
Others lick their fingers.

Some throw food like trash,
While others would trade a lifetime for one meal.

Wars have been fought in my name.
Revolutions have been born from my ache.

I am not just an empty stomach.
I am history.
I am survival.
I am tragedy.


I am not your shadow,
But the weight you were born to carry
The silent war you’ll never win.

I am HUNGER.
Return to Grace

Every now and then, the world tries to convince me that I’m broken.
How funny this is, coming from a broken world.
Then, in the silence of my efforts, I look up and realize that my resilience is still mighty and that my indomitable spirit is still soaring.
I am not broken, I am just beginning.
The world is opening before me, and I am receiving it with care.
I feel my grit and resolve rise within me, and I smile because they have not waned.
My spirit was fortified in fire; it can withstand a little rain.
I turn inward, more gentle with myself.
I return to grace.

-Rhia Clay
Next page