#alleys - Hello Poetry

In narrow alleys, people cling close together -- escaping the sun.

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May 17, 2025

May 17, 2025 at 3:24 AM UTC

Zywa

[ In narrow alleys ]

In narrow alleys, people cling close together -- escaping the sun.

3

Miserable I am, stucked. My mind's wynds, entwined. Inside burning, being indecisive. Attempted to decipher, all in vain. A maze unsolved; the unsaid pain Perplexed **** thoughts' umbra Darking in pursuit of seeking. The more they amalgamate; the more I Separate Wretched. Same do all bear? Distracted by despair; I ended up nowhere.

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Apr 18, 2020

Apr 18, 2020 at 4:42 PM UTC

noor-fatima

At the precipice of havoc

Miserable I am, stucked. My mind's wynds, entwined. Inside burning, being indecisive. Attempted to decipher, all in vain. A maze unsolved; the unsaid pain Perplexed **** thoughts' umbra Darking in pursuit of seeking. The more they amalgamate; the more I Separate Wretched. Same do all bear? Distracted by despair; I ended up nowhere.

12

_Love travels sideways, Down dark alleys, Along winding country lanes; Arrives late, Hesitates too long, Leaves early; A journey to take, A destination unmapped, An invitation to linger when we least expect it._

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Mar 1, 2020

Mar 1, 2020 at 12:00 AM UTC

annh

Sideways

_Love travels sideways, Down dark alleys, Along winding country lanes; Arrives late, Hesitates too long, Leaves early; A journey to take, A destination unmapped, An invitation to linger when we least expect it._

9

You are the fire escape on the side of our apartments - climbing up and down, hair blowing in the breeze- You are the burnt edge of this film I keep staring at hoping to find you in this room instead of this photograph- Dark alley ways are for the bad girls you told me once- Dark alley ways are all we have left of that night- your lips dancing across mine, your hand in my hair, the blurred self portrait we took lying naked in bed- intertwined, mixing skin with sheets, mixing sweat with saliva ; kiss me like you mean it boy- Dark and devilish thoughts are what keep girls like me awake at night you told me once- Dark thoughts are the only sensual thoughts I have left of you- You are the hurricane that's forming in the gulf; waiting to destroy what's left of the coast- You are the fire burning the rest of our photos except this one i hold in my hands- Dark rooms are for the insecure lovers you told me once- Dark rooms are what I have left of the secrets you left behind- Black and white film, colored dreams, and memories clashing with reality- Dark thoughts about dark alleys and dark rooms are what you left me with-

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Aug 24, 2017

Aug 24, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC

BriannaB4mf

Darkness

You are the fire escape on the side of our apartments - climbing up and down, hair blowing in the breeze- You are the burnt edge of this film I keep staring at hoping to find you in this room instead of this photograph- Dark alley ways are for the bad girls you told me once- Dark alley ways are all we have left of that night- your lips dancing across mine, your hand in my hair, the blurred self portrait we took lying naked in bed- intertwined, mixing skin with sheets, mixing sweat with saliva ; kiss me like you mean it boy- Dark and devilish thoughts are what keep girls like me awake at night you told me once- Dark thoughts are the only sensual thoughts I have left of you- You are the hurricane that's forming in the gulf; waiting to destroy what's left of the coast- You are the fire burning the rest of our photos except this one i hold in my hands- Dark rooms are for the insecure lovers you told me once- Dark rooms are what I have left of the secrets you left behind- Black and white film, colored dreams, and memories clashing with reality- Dark thoughts about dark alleys and dark rooms are what you left me with-

14

*Curing sadness that never disappear when life has broken into pieces, We agnize everything has gone so wrong. Visually perceptive world revolving around me, While I found myself in a stationary engagement , Merely to collapse without one single movement As visions dilated on the far side of mental susceptibility. My progressive journey begins here, Through the alleys of pain with me inside my Heartache Memorial. While I’m still drifting towards a light ahead, Apprehension is on its way to devour. But I am grateful enlightened that I’m alive, And that I’m appreciative to be here to catch the last ride home, Through the subway of lost dreams.*

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Feb 24, 2017

Feb 24, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC

m-harris

Heartache Memorial

*Curing sadness that never disappear when life has broken into pieces, We agnize everything has gone so wrong. Visually perceptive world revolving around me, While I found myself in a stationary engagement , Merely to collapse without one single movement As visions dilated on the far side of mental susceptibility. My progressive journey begins here, Through the alleys of pain with me inside my Heartache Memorial. While I’m still drifting towards a light ahead, Apprehension is on its way to devour. But I am grateful enlightened that I’m alive, And that I’m appreciative to be here to catch the last ride home, Through the subway of lost dreams.*

13

Vietnam, you uncovered my soul Gave me a song, a direction smog Looked at the pandora box I held Unstripped my flames up temples A hologram of the graded existence Seasoned in explosions of burnt haste Decked on buses,ducked in valleys Chilled bays, overly paddled kayaks Such sweet taste of the Halong bay Undreamt mist of the skies stared Fishing squids and bellied jellyfish The soil, the sound,an orotund playlist

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Mar 11, 2016

Mar 11, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC

SassyJ

Vietnam Valentines

Vietnam, you uncovered my soul Gave me a song, a direction smog Looked at the pandora box I held Unstripped my flames up temples A hologram of the graded existence Seasoned in explosions of burnt haste Decked on buses,ducked in valleys Chilled bays, overly paddled kayaks Such sweet taste of the Halong bay Undreamt mist of the skies stared Fishing squids and bellied jellyfish The soil, the sound,an orotund playlist

12

There’s a key to open the lock of the door that leads to the alley hidden from everyone’s view old buildings graying facades history peeling off exposing the strong walls not many have walked this alley for many centuries forlorn and tired history sleeps memories sigh waiting to be heard the last footstep that reverberated into oblivion lost glory passionate dwellers abandoned for centuries stripped off the lights and long forgotten switching off the town’s existence now only if one had the key to walk down the forgotten alley history would wake up to narrate so many stories put under a long spell an effort to wipe away its existence but it soul still lives and the key shall be found to the lucky one walking amidst history transported back to the past to feel the essence of this unnamed place almost wiped away by time

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Feb 7, 2015

Feb 7, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC

amitav

A key to History

There’s a key to open the lock of the door that leads to the alley hidden from everyone’s view old buildings graying facades history peeling off exposing the strong walls not many have walked this alley for many centuries forlorn and tired history sleeps memories sigh waiting to be heard the last footstep that reverberated into oblivion lost glory passionate dwellers abandoned for centuries stripped off the lights and long forgotten switching off the town’s existence now only if one had the key to walk down the forgotten alley history would wake up to narrate so many stories put under a long spell an effort to wipe away its existence but it soul still lives and the key shall be found to the lucky one walking amidst history transported back to the past to feel the essence of this unnamed place almost wiped away by time

55

In this city the bright lights can blind you let you forget the rustic coins littered around the floor caught by grimy hands belonging to a woman she holds her life on a thin piece of cardboard written in faded Sharpie If you ever lose your way with the crowd and stumble upon the empty alleyways they possess cracked glass from beer bottles, old shopping advertisements, broken toys and the stench of trash mixed with lost hope realizing the pavement isn't always perfect but littered with cracks Walk further down and you will pass the rejected streets, houses gone foreclosed and no remorse all that matters is the country's history, pressed on notorious green paper belonging to greedy hands forgetting about the family that lost their house Wait at the train station, for the rumble and two yellow lights The snake of a train claims passengers trapping them between closed doors, only allowing them to face their own misery some escape with headphones others just stare into the darkness with sunken eyes and drunken sighs Walking home see the gum wrappers and dead leaves skid around the soles of your worn shoes Graffiti garage doors only display discarded art And when the night is still you can feel the empty consonants and vowels crawl up your legs forming the unspoken words from unwanted voices that lay Hidden under our feet.

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Oct 25, 2014

Oct 25, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC

statictitanic

Hidden NYC

In this city the bright lights can blind you let you forget the rustic coins littered around the floor caught by grimy hands belonging to a woman she holds her life on a thin piece of cardboard written in faded Sharpie If you ever lose your way with the crowd and stumble upon the empty alleyways they possess cracked glass from beer bottles, old shopping advertisements, broken toys and the stench of trash mixed with lost hope realizing the pavement isn't always perfect but littered with cracks Walk further down and you will pass the rejected streets, houses gone foreclosed and no remorse all that matters is the country's history, pressed on notorious green paper belonging to greedy hands forgetting about the family that lost their house Wait at the train station, for the rumble and two yellow lights The snake of a train claims passengers trapping them between closed doors, only allowing them to face their own misery some escape with headphones others just stare into the darkness with sunken eyes and drunken sighs Walking home see the gum wrappers and dead leaves skid around the soles of your worn shoes Graffiti garage doors only display discarded art And when the night is still you can feel the empty consonants and vowels crawl up your legs forming the unspoken words from unwanted voices that lay Hidden under our feet.

30