#writer poems on Hello Poetry

Monique Clavier Jun 2015

never fall in love with a boy who
speaks in lavender soliloquy and
smells like cigarettes and melancholy;
whose kisses leave you in nirvana and
whose flesh lays in some lovely façade;
for he is a poet, a philosopher, and a believer
whose mind will disappear into breathless purgatory
when you're not even looking
and by the time you'll find out
you'll already have lost him somewhere,
between wandering verbosity,
and ashen wordlessness

wrote this a while ago and shared it on my tumblr, where it got around 80 notes i believe

#love #heartbreak #poetry #poet #romance #boys #prose #writer

Martin Narrod Jun 2015

i. fierce trials

To balance inside this world and yours isn't the easiest feat, while I cling to the insides of the jungle gym where we used to play hide and seek. Should I say, "You don't call, you don't write. It's been 3 years since I've had my muse?" All the anger strewn across my elbows makes me feel like gulliver unable to do all my traveling. I've dared. I've crossed. I've taken where signs said, "Stay Away!" But all for the chance for just a minute with you, alone in Half Moon Bay.

poetry poem apoemayear firstwrite in a long time for Britni of course. Museless and clueless.

#poem #poetry #poet #writing #writers #writer #chicago #menwhowrite #chitownpoet #chicagowritersroom

Alyssa Jun 2015

history

it was the library
down by the corner
where Oak
and Pleasant Street
crossed every night
that I first saw you.
rugged hands
shifted the pages
of a worn-out Catcher in the Rye
when two spent faces
met one another
like gasoline
sparking up a dimmed campfire.
I took you home;
the sun rose;
and somewhere in between,
when the sheets were dancing
and my fingertips
read your skin
as if it were tattooed in brail
was the moment
I became a writer.

Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved

it was you

#love #poetry #sadness #loss #writer #history

Chloe Ivy Rose Smith Jun 2015

why you shouldn't love a writer Vs. why you should

we write things down and keep them away
to hide how we feel, we vent,
and it looks like we bottle it up
and it causes confusion.

we will love you the same way we love
the books we write, the poems we weave;
as though you are our creation,
and as though we can preserve you by keeping you on a page.

not a lot will live up to the world
that we live in in our heads, the fantasies
we concoct to create a story,
so unlike the real world.

*but because of these worlds, we can help
create a life for ourselves with a place for you,
with strong hopes and aspirations
and we are always faithful to the ideas that we have.

#love #poem #relationship #writer #freeverse

Animo Capesseret Jun 2015

Hopeless

I am no longer sure if I wish more to be
a poet,
or a poem,
or if I even wish to be
at all.

#depressing #sadness #questions #poems #writer

Andrew Switzer Stoned Ferret Jun 2015

Fragile Fruit

Head fractured in two,
The juices taste ripe and sweet.
Heart sour and stale.

#broken #depressed #alone #beaten #writer

Roger Turner - Poet Sep 2012

My people

I write long stories
Short, medium as well
I write because I think that
I have something to tell

I've met people in my writing
All living in my head
They come to me in daytime
And they speak to me in bed

I don't know if I've met them
There's a chance they may be real
But, they're there inside me living
Letting people know just how they feel

I've singers, painters, dancers
blindmen, kids who like weird things
teachers, stutterers and hobo's
crippled kids and kings

I'm not sure if I've met them
But, by now, I know their names
I know everything about them
And I know, no one is the same

They keep me entertained and
I hope you like them too
I've got to move some boxes in my head
To see if I can find somebody new.

#short #people #stories #painters #writing #kids #writer #voices #long #kings

Leo Letters Jun 2015

***** and Peace

Sometimes when the shadow falls
and everyone else’s on their beds I turn
to look at this beer of bottle staring at me
And I say, **** it! When will you speak?
So then we’d stare at each other
and I’d swear still it wouldn’t speak
By the time the silence grew and
I couldn’t take it any longer
my temper takes on me
the beer starts to scare
So I grabbed and lift it
and poured it empty
on my throat. Might as well drink it
if it wouldn’t speak.
I start to laugh because it’s funny
when you think you’re alone. Then
I take another beer and put in the
table and I speak to it again.
Chug. The lights are on and dimmed.
I do the same rituals and after some time
You wouldn’t believe it, the beer speaks
loudly in my chest. It stirs and revolts
in my mouth. I knew it was pretending.
I knew it could speak.
Now it’s begging to be released.
The beast inside is finally pleased.
It’s funny
It’s funny how other people didn’t know.
Now all that couldn’t be spoken
Can now be said
**** it could speak through the air.
So now you know how to speak to the beer
You **** it. You grab it in the neck. Make a pet out of it
and let it give you the entertainment
Otherwise, you’ll do it wrong.

#love #peace #drunk #life #drink #write #midnight #writer #mad

Aditi Jun 2015

Melancholia

The red roses now lay
Dead on the ground
The violets have withered away
On the wings of wind,
The love that once was there
Will never be
The girl who I was,
Is lost to,
A ghost I never thought I'll see

The poetry pages
Now lay tattered
and torn on the floor,
The writer's pen is also gone
The ink running inside
his vein has dried,
Somewhere he is lost in his suffering and plight

There is a kind of lost
That is never found
A darkness so profound,
There is no scope for hope
A void so vast,
No sound can get through

The mirror now lays
Broken on the bed,
The broken reflections reflects the brokenness inside her heart
Being so young, she should not
But she already fell in love with the company
Melancholia brings

The dimly lit room,
Absorbs all the light the window lets in,
How much more breaths
Before he blends in,
And becomes one with the darkness
That surrounds him

He is not giving up,
but maybe he will give in,
It is so peaceful once
you hit the rock bottom
You can finally lay in peace
With no one calling out your name
No one calling out your name,
**With no care in the world
You can finally be

#sad #life #girl #lost #ghost #pen #melancholia #wind #writer

Ryan Unger Jun 2015

Writer's Block

Staring at a blank page, I don’t know what to write,
The stress of creating poetry can be a mental fight.
There’s so many things to write about where do I even start?
I want it to be meaningful and I want it to be smart.

I sit impatiently waiting for a thought in my office chair,
That will spark something in my mind, but there’s nothing there!
I try listening to music or watching TV for an idea,
I even left the office and walked to the pizzeria!

How do other people do it? I really wanna know!
Because writers block is following me wherever I seem to go!
Whether it’s at the office, or at home, I just can’t seem to shake it,
A poem is calling out to be made and I just can’t seem to make it!

I want to ask the writing Gods for help and beg them on my knees!
I’ve been sitting here for way too long so can you help me please?
I feel like such a failure when my writing seems to struggle,
My creativity hopped right in bed with writers block to snuggle.

I rack my brain but nothings there, it’s full of empty vaults,
What I need is some mental gymnastics and creative somersaults.
O god! Writing poetry can really be so draining,
But look! I wrote this whole poem in the time I spent complaining!

#funny #idea #writer #humorous