#realpoetry
I went to the window
for a last puff of fresh air,
expecting nothing
but the quiet of night.
And there he was—
a man bent over our garbage,
phone light trembling in his hand
as he searched for food
or something like it.
Thirty meters.
Nothing more.
Close enough to touch a memory
I thought I’d buried.
Below him,
a monster-truck show packing up,
bright metal and roaring engines
pretending the world is loud.
Above him,
the cats didn’t even look twice—
just kept digging,
as if men in the dark
belong there.
And me?
I stood in the window,
smoke in my lungs,
salt in my eyes,
thinking:
I was him.
Once.
Not that far ago.
And something in me
wanted to go down,
to say “come inside,”
to give him warmth,
food,
a moment of being seen.
But I couldn’t.
It would hurt him.
And it would hurt me.
In that life,
kindness feels like a spotlight
you can’t bear.
So I stayed where I was,
puffing into the cold air,
crying quietly for a stranger
and for the ghost of myself
standing beside him.
A man in the garbage.
A man in the window.
Only luck,
and a few brutal choices,
separating the two.
And tonight,
for a breath,
they recognized each other.
Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 9:41 PM UTC
Hello poets,
My name is sunny, and I'd very much like to propose to all of you:
A Challenge.
It is quite a simple one really, I want to see just how many are willing to help me.
Recently I've found out of a group of poets that are using AI to create their "art" for them.
I won't give names unless it continues to worsen. They know whom they are.
We cannot stand for this.
AI is not art, its thievery, its not creative, its lazy, it is awful.
Poets, true poets, their words come from heart and soul, their voices are powerful. It disgusts me that AI is taking away the magic that drew me to poetry in the first place.
That's why I ask of you, true poets, to create. I challenge you to make a poem that damns AI even farther, using the #AISucks .
I encourage any and all of you whom see a poem in the challenge to repost, heart, and spread the word.
And if you see any other "poets" using AI, please report them. That isn't creating, its borderline stealing.
Thank you all, and I wish you the best of luck.
May 19, 2025
May 19, 2025 at 12:10 PM UTC
I see you
You can see trough me
I can see inside of you
And so we see what is underneath
Inside of you inside of me
We share the same energy
Yet we are not the same of elements
Hearts collide
But from a small distance
Almost as we are ready to move on
In love and commitment
I didn't thought that
Air and earth
Could be so exciting
In our existence
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 5:46 PM UTC
Macroscopia allows a view,
Verdant brilliance, a star's birth.
Yet, our microscopicness ignores,
The atom should not be split.
400 years of supposed "science"
Has stolen the earth's richness,
Michaelangelos from the sky,
Is killing life as fast as
Before last ice age ensued.
Biophilia or necrophilia, choose!
Vie's evolving song is as silent as
A stone's ballad for being's loss.
Yet, manifest destiny rag drags on,
Turtle Island's shell won't cover,
Approaching abyss on the horizon.
Vitae's wail echoes crimson,
As acid rain from your closed
Eye falls, Earth's tears bleeding,
For, all you see is grey.
Oct 12, 2019
Oct 12, 2019 at 1:41 AM UTC
Where is the poets passion
Where is feeling and emotion
Poetry was not meant to talk
It was meant to sing
Beautiful melodies sung with heart and soul
How monotone it has become!
Where bored minds write poems
About the first thing they see
Barely giving thought to the conception
Of a good idea
An emotionless poem
As boring as the cycles in life
That we repeat over and over
Because it s what we are used to
Real poets write meaningful poems
We are the real poets,
I think...
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
Note to self,
Writing about slit wrists, night terrors, or a chain of mental illnesses,
is not poetry.
You're venting.
It's not wrong, but it's not poetry.
You aren't the first or the last to go through ****
And even though knowing that doesn't make depression hurt any less,
don't try and create a pedestal out of your problems.
Use the platforms and devices that are helping you vent,
instead be the means to help find a solution.
Afterwards, put that progressive period
and those months of emotional cultivation into words.
That's poetry.
Understand your place in the human lineage.
Compare yourself to those before you.
Realize the audacity in calling yourself depressed.
Step up and step into your greatness.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC