#hung
Her question hung, a velvet thread,
“Is it her looks or soul instead?”
I met her gaze, a teasing game,
The kind that sets your heart aflame.
I traced the curve of lips, her cheek,
A flush that made her fragile, meek.
“You’ve loved before, or so you claim,
But tell me
has it burned the same?”
She stiffened, breath a shallow tide,
But in her eyes, no place to hide.
“You’re dodging what I want to know,”
She said, though words began to slow.
I laughed, my hand upon her skin
“Questions are where all loves begin.”
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 12:33 AM UTC
All hung up
and dried.
But no one knows,
and no one sees…
Me flying.
But only at half-mast.
.
Aug 17, 2021
Aug 17, 2021 at 6:14 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, and she dreams:?
expired sunset
a multicolored sky fired and met
wings of flee burnt rain
dawns of lasts in unseen flames
the table dines
lions chase forests of mine
like when the first sip shadowed
of the water green in lakes shallow
hands shot eyes intake
tremble ripped canvas of french fake
ashes unknown no name
to reach out faces or claim
polished the twenty third
out of the bathing bird
a Sunday morning motions
a faze of a dark table believed bad omen
-----ravenfeels
Jul 21, 2021
Jul 21, 2021 at 9:58 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, already wrote about this before: but can it be?
hung dislike in the air unspoken
the favors in the same feather interest leaves a heart broken
admitting an adornment lazily better than that
suspicion captains the dreamy sails been in moons and sat
hold up not that I forgot to mention seems
the remember you soulmated when crying belongs and screams
April smothered a sarcastic note that I humor like I flow like I do
not of him a think of the thinking a dumb pursue
because darling my whole existence fed on that all along
how could a world stance stars and align in one core wrong???
not that I die this crazy fate hate
at least been found on a irony of an abandoned twenty-third
-----ravenfeels
Jun 8, 2021
Jun 8, 2021 at 7:28 PM UTC
Oh Eliot, Poor Eliot, Your Fans Hung You in the Closet and I'm Feelin' So Sad^
<>
we tithed thee with donations plenty,
here a dollar, there a fiver, a coupon for free chips,
worthy of somebody’s eternal gratitude,
that would be you,
da Duke, Duke of York
the largest online free poetry site,
a million visitors a day, why you must be
the richest poet online billionaire, right?
you,
da Duke, Duke of York and
occasional poet...
in return, all we occasional poets demand
steady on instant access, immediate satisfaction,
after all, a part time job deserves your bestus-best,
just like every other large online site, that never crashes,
we’re not like just the rest, we are
p o e t s,
occasionally
so keep the servers engines, well stoked with Newcastle coal,
keep them up and running round the clock,
using only alternative energy,
of the unceasing sun light of merry old England!
quit that other job, you must,
instead of giving up on us,
give in to us,
a poetry break, a writing recharge,
though please add a limited liability
clause to the FAQ’s,
that poets’ lives must deal with the hiccup
occasional
you, da Duke, Duke of York,
newly now, an appointment royale as Major General,^^
you, the very model of a modern major general
possessing information vegetable, animal, mineral and
technical,
who knows the Queens of England, who,
maybe even now is telling tales of your heroics with the hordes of
hysterical
occasional
poetical
globalists
demanding
light brigadests
charging the redoubt
and
when you have a moment spare,
a haircut, please.
no, that is not a request,
naturally
<>
10/19/19
Noontime NYC
natalino
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 12:21 PM UTC
He was not sending
He did not know even he was the messenger
He went to that cave
Called "herraa" cave
To be away of the world
To look after the natural world
To discover if the world was created
By only power and God
His nation worshipped statues
360 statues with days of moon year
To approach them to the only God
The true is when one increases his faults
He searches away from his God
Trying to get a way and method
To get his God forgiven his worst
He forgot that his God accepted one
Who discovered that he did a wrong
Mohamad sent a lone
To see the outer of the world
And to hear the inner sound
Until a great creature appeared
He made a strong hung
Mohamd felt his chest was collapsed
Telling "read"
Mohamd said," I can't"
Mohamad was illiterate
The creatures hung him again
The sweat ascended as rain
Telling him read
Mohamad said," I can't read"
In the meaning of the talk
The creatures did again
Saying," read ,
Read with the name of the God
Who learnt with the pen"
As the Al arak surat said
Mohamd went with great shock
Saying," cover me, hung me
Warm me"
His lovely and honest wife met
With great mercy and kind
Telling you God will not let you down
To be continued
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 5:14 AM UTC
I wanna write about you.
And I do.
You drip off the end of my pen,
Off the blinking line of my cursor,
And fill up white space
With the nebulousness of what you are to me;
Your cumulonimbus formlessness.
Enter.
Pause.
A moment of consideration.
I am constantly unsure of what this all means.
I love you.
You’re bad for me.
I might be bad for you in return.
I want you.
I don’t want anything and I burn for you,
I write for you,
I pine when I am a creature of pragmatism and action.
You don’t want me the same in return, if you do at all.
The absence of you is terrifying.
The absence of you was a relief.
With you I am elated.
With you I feel as though you slowly pull my heart apart,
As though you forcefeed me hope,
For I am unable to do anything else but wish for—
Change
—when we are together,
Though I know it is impossible,
Unlikely enough to deserve the word.
I can see the planes of your skin, feel
Them beneath my fingers
I can trace their lines with my mind’s
Tongue.
Wishing is pointless with you.
I know this and still cry for the moon.
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 2:58 AM UTC
Promise me, my flesh you'll place
'neath a fledgling willow tree.
And as it grows toward blue sky,
It's in its grace you'll hear me cry.
Laden with the heaviest fears,
resembling, reflecting
my darkest years.
A fragile bone was once my arm,
so likened to the willows charm.
It's branches delicate,
could ne'er do harm.
It's soft and fluffy hand like bud,
encased in skin, the willow's wood.
Hold its hand at branches end.
My message, a vibration,
to you I'll send.
Until the death of said willow tree,
reminding you . . . . .
. . . . . . always of me.
Poetry by Kaydee.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
She was the noose that
I'd hang myself from,
I would put the snare of
her heart around my throat.
Her words would caress my
windpipe strangling
me with loves whispers,
suffocating me gently.
But words were hard to speak
when she was collecting tightly
around my breath.
I couldn't be with her as I was suffocating,
my actions she hung me from.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 4:49 PM UTC
Obsession for someone who's in another's possession,
Craving for love, touch and affection in the shadows of her reflections
Catching the trails of her breath she left on the wind along with her scent
Distractions could never falter my obsession for you, just as he could never stop loving you and you keeping him in your heart
But even so, I love you. I love you. I love you. I crave for you. I need you. I love you. I want you. I love you. I love you.
Silently, you're tearing me apart. I look at you with awe, listen with glee, and talk with my heart on my sleeve.
You're killing me, relentlessly obsessing over you at the same time containing myself. I badly love you and I guess thats the end of it
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 1:17 AM UTC
How much for breakfast,
coffee chocolate and vanilla
Ella, el, el LA.
One right, 2 the nose and back across
My belly, Elly, Ella, el la.
Fitzgerald.
The phone, pho' phourdy eighth street
San Diego, 8:51, vah nella, naps on my bed
Chocolate prefers then under the sink
Instead.
Coffeenchocolate vanilla
El, ella, el LA.
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 11:54 AM UTC
I stand before you
accused by some fool.
You call me a witch,
but I say you are foolish to agree.
I but a simple girl
I mean harm to no one.
You demand I confess to my sins of witchcraft
I'm firm when I look you the eye and tell you,
“ I cannot”.
I go three days and three nights
with only water and some stale bread
in the damp dark of the jail.
I almost fear my hunger has made me mad
when I see your face appear at my cell.
Though am weak,
I rise to greet your scornful face.
Again, you demand I confess.
You wish to make an example of me.
Yet again I look you in the eye and reply;
“ I cannot."
You storm out in anger raving about how I shall hang,
but I will not be tried for something I did not do.
I will not ruin my name for the games of the fool.
I stand at the gallows and you demand one last time my confession
A single tear rolls down my face as I look to the crowd gathered to see my end.
Standing tall, I whisper
“I cannot.”
s.s.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 2:09 AM UTC
we’re all hung up on someone
whether it’s your highschool sweetheart
who now lives in Seattle, 4 hours away
or the man who had a one night stand with
when his wife was out of town
whether it was your boss
who you never had the guts to confess your love to
or your ex-husband
who ended up leaving you for a younger version
we go through the motions
we meet new people
and every now and then, we even fall in love
but at the end of it all
we're still stuck in the past
frozen to the memories
glued to the 'what-ifs' and the 'maybes'
we can’t help but want that one person
we can’t help but wish you were him
we can’t help but worry that he’ll never be ours
we’re all hung up on someone
& I’m hung up on you
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
I'm going to tell you, a story of a girl.
Her name douse not matter, she is lost to the world.
She cried out with the rain.
Everyone she talked to knew she was not the same.
When they asked her, she said she was fine.
But when they turned their backs, she cried all the time.
Only one person knew, how bad she really was.
She held the girl and cried with her.
And said it was all rite.
One day the girl could take no more.
She had lost her fight.
But her friend called to wish her good night.
when she said she was fine, she hured how lost was her fight.
The friend hured her friends voice that broke.
Knew the girl had broken he faith.
And rushed over a moment to late.
The girl hung up the phone.
She stud up on her chair.
And saw the headlights racing up.
But se had said her good byes and had enough.
A moment to late her friend pushed open the gate.
And ran up trying to save.
She ran calling out her friends name.
But inside she knew it was to late.
As she opened up the door.
Her hear broke she fell on the floor
The girl hung her stereo playing her friends favorite song.
She loved her dear friend, and never wished their friendship an end.
But now her friend was gone
She had hung their for long.
At home her mother avoided her broken daughter.
And her dad all but forgot her.
She looked out at the moon.
And felt like a ghost now.
She played the dead friend her favorite song.
And put the rope around her neck.
She felt abandon, she felt broken.
And to the pearly gates.
He dead girl did make, and she meat her friend but it wasn't like it had bean.
he friend wisent all the way dead
So the girl told her o go back home and said she was whir she belonged to.
That she only meant to do this to herself
and that she never meant to make her friend hate herself
So she closed her friends eyes
and said her goodbyes
she sent her back to continue her fight.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
So far the ground appeared
never thought I would see again.
World seems so much nicer
from afar.
All it took was one sparkle
from one star.
Clouds swept through
and through--
a transparent bloodstream
casting me into delirium,
dancing the sky
carelessly.
But flight isn't my course,
I cline with
the wind's will
and wisp.
This descent
all too familiar.
I will not return to
what grips me down,
that which grips us all.
Let this coming clenching
have but one final victim:
My breath.
Allow my exhale
to rise in its departure
so it may stay
lost in the cloud,
a haven I forever seek.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
I've awoken now.
Quite down little birds.
My mind muddied and blurred.
Where am I now and how..
Did I get here?
Rusty, still turning on like that old junker that'd never start first time.
Memories mysty drips and drabs of last night.
Unshaven from days ago.
Dirt and blood laced aftershave.
Was it one night or a week, maybe they blended together.
The nights are the worst they always bring the day.
Recoil finding myself all over again.
It's Thursday.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
Another bottle, another soul.
Another ghost, another ghoul.
You took the bottle, you drank it away.
You spit out words like a knife and meant it in everyway.
Another bottle, another soul.
Another ghost, another ghoul.
14 drinks and a thousand words, 14 years I'll never outgrow.
You took the bottle, but you took a soul. You took my soul, you took my heart.
You treated my heart like it was a game of darts and you rung the bulls-eye with no regret.
Another bottle, another soul.
Another ghost, another ghoul.
The night you took a soul, was the night you took my hope.
The same night I gave up and took that rope, I took that rope and clung to death.
Another bottle, another soul.
Another ghost, another ghoul.
You took my soul and now I'm gone.
You took my hope and left me with that rope.
You took that bottle and chose it over me, you took that chance and now you see...your little girl will never be because she took her life the night that you took another drink.
Another bottle...gone.
Another soul...forgotten.
Another ghost...created.
Another ghoul...forbidden.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
Hang me like the sun,
A never ending light
Illuminating the sky,
Yet never questions why.
Hang me like the stars,
Floating with no demise
Holding on until they realize
All the questions are just lies.
Floating like the summer skies,
Nearing them just to die
An unconventional lullaby,
Is the last thing floating through the skies,
Only one request remains , that's why
I want to be hung in the sky,
Hung like the sun,
A never ending light
Illuminating the sky,
Yet never questions why
hung like the sun in the sky,
Never questioning or wondering why,
These stars have no demise,
Then near the skies just to die,
Listening to you last lullaby,
The last start of the old beginning,
Just do not speak and wonder why.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
ahh the hung stud..
never have I had the pleasure..
to witness and feel all of there zeal..
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
Does she hold you like I used to?
When you were too scared to
pick your head up from my shoulder?
Does she hum to you at night like I used to?
When your mind was too restless
to allow you to close your eyes?
Does she make you laugh like I used to?
When you'd stop only because you felt
like your stomach was on fire?
Does she make you feel bothered like I used to?
Does she make you feel mad like I used to?
Does she make you want to scream like I used to?
Was I ever even enough for you?
Will she ever even be enough for you?
Will she write one of these poems four years from now like I am?
Will she wonder what she ever did to deserve the hurt you caused?
Will she prevail? Will she crumble?
I'm still trying to figure out which one I'm doing.
You have made my life confusing.
Will I ever feel comfortable holding someone again?
Will I ever hum to another late at night?
Will I ever tell a joke just to hear another laugh?
Will they ever make me feel like you did?
Will she wonder the same things four years from now?
Will she think about me then?
She took what was mine
and in the end I wouldn't
be surprised if someone
took what she though
was hers.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
simple enough
If I wanted to, I could
I could dissect every word
you ever said
Take off the fabric that surrounds--
I would never, I told you,
I want to taste your skin,
after it's been hung on the clothespin
in the sun too long
If you heard this, you'd take it the wrong way
you want to taste me
because that little kiss,
you knew what you were doing
and now your hands know every inch of me
so **** off now
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 12:23 PM UTC
Such joy a day can bring to hearts of men,
The trees bedecked, in finest autumn hue;
A throng of merriment upon the heath,
The glistened lilac, wrought in morning dew.
The drummer boys, a-beating on their drums,
Old peddlers pushing carts, piled high with wares;
Beggars, worn and haggard, as their clothes,
And women, in their finest, catching stares.
The roaring cheers as horse parades go by,
Delivering up the bounty of the feast;
The VIPs a-riding in fine style,
Their open carriage, drawn behind the beast.
As one by one, they climb above the crowd,
Their speeches cheered, with jeers and playful boos;
Then swiftly swinging, onwards with their tour,
The crowds go jostling, chasing better views.
The butcher greets the VIPs with glee,
And demonstrates his mastery of meat;
With sharpened knives, a-gleaming in the sun,
His chopping rhythym keeps a steady beat.
As shadows lengthen, slowly crowds disperse,
With pondrous looks, a day to e'er remember;
And every year, its carnival once more,
Lest we forget, the fifth day of November.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:47 AM UTC
I was echilerated after comming across an iredessant sun
Twas shining on a perpendicular humanThat had been hung.
I was a very exotic environment,blood,guts,and beer all over the ***** bar.
The dead corps had a flamboyant ****** expression yet whilst hung -
Untouched ..Un-moving.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
He listened
To her laugh
As if it was a symphony
And she hung
On his words
Like they were vines
By Chloe Elizabeth
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC