Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#athenaeumthoughts
Splish, splish, ploop. A stone gently disturbs the plane of the mirror, before descending into undisclosed depths. Ripples erupt, breaking the surface of the tarn. As the current subsides— splish, splish, ploop. What if we could live and die, creating such soft— such token undulations? Splish, splish, ploop. Let’s cause cosmic waves of compassion and aegis for the planet, our companion- leaving, as such, small wrinkles and blemishes upon the surface. Splish, splish, ploop. A. I. Myles   2o June, 2o19 @athenaeumthoughts
0
Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 12:25 AM UTC
Skipping Stones
A “mailbox” is a funny thing. It used to be a means of keeping in touch with the ones that we loved— a tool for connections and correspondences. What do we even have mailboxes for now? Stores send out coupons for us to accumulate goods now. Credit card companies send out reminders to pay off our debts now. Everyone’s circulating love, but of status and wealth now. We’ve become so consumed with our phones, with fashion and greed... how? A. I. Myles 19 June, 2o19 @athenaeumthoughts
0
Jun 19, 2019
Jun 19, 2019 at 5:04 PM UTC
Mailboxes
Please don’t tell me “you’re too young to be tired.” I’ll be as tired as I dang-we’ll please. There are so many ways to be “spent” beyond what you see physically— weariness runs more than skin-deep. So don’t tell me how you think I should feel, because you could never understand. My brain, it thrums constantly and drains me emotionally, in ways that you can’t fix with sleep. A. I. Myles 18 June, 2o19 @athenaeumthoughts
0
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 9:23 PM UTC
“Don’t Even Think About It.”
I’ve experienced more than my eyes could ever show you. Steal a glimpse through the window when the moonlight hits just right, and you might find the faintest flicker- vivid imagery. I’ve experienced more than my lips could ever tell you. Put your ear to the door. Listen closely. Deeply. Don’t take a breathe. You could miss my faintest of whispering- subtle mysteries. A. I. Myles 14 June, 2o19 @athenaeumdreams
0
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 7:39 AM UTC
Glimpse
I haven’t been able to sleep so well lately. Going to bed late, I stir from dreams constantly. During the day I feel so awake, and I’ve been writing consistently. I have words in my brain, like it’s tuned into some frequency. - A. I. Myles 12 June, 2019 @athenaeumthoughts
0
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 7:08 PM UTC
Frequency
The thoughts of a writer can be a terrific and terrible chasm, simultaneously. They spring from one precipice to another, dangerously, no- longingly peering over the edge, ready to bound head-first towards the next afflatus. A. I. Myles 11 June, 2019 @athenaeumthoughts
0
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 9:17 PM UTC
Precipice
Some plants, they bloom in the summer. Others— in autumn or spring. Oh! But you my dear have weathered through so many struggles. You will blossom through so many others. -A. I. Myles 1o June, 2019 @athenaeumthoughts
0
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 8:02 PM UTC
Blossom
I was a moth, drawn to you like a candle- until you blew out the flame. - A. I. Myles   o9 June, 2019 @athenaeumthoughts
0
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 8:03 AM UTC
“Moth”