#spikes
Those leaves, once soft, cursed to spikes,
every soul that came close bled red.
Stoic armor for survival but
thirst unquenched burning brighter
hollowed by endurance my existence;
Cradling water yet never sip
Rarely blooms in hostility—
a sand-rooted sentry now lost,
Its silken self, at last .
Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 10:57 AM UTC
Standing on the frozen lake
Build on my mistakes
Or situations that life plunked on me
Unbearable to take
And look on these spikes
Of grief as frozen ice
That filled the land of heart
Until I cry
Until I cry
[Your heart is size of fist
And if you hold tears in it
They get compress and compress
And make the frozen lake]
Oct 28, 2020
Oct 28, 2020 at 2:02 AM UTC
When the arrow of overthinking strikes,
feels like have my head on spikes.
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 7:54 AM UTC
Not Elves, Exactly
by Michael R. Burch
(after Robert Frost's "Mending Wall")
Something there is that likes a wall,
that likes it spiked and likes it tall,
that likes its pikes’ sharp rows of teeth
and doesn’t mind its victims’ grief
(wherever they come from, far or wide)
as long as they fall on the other side.
Keywords/Tags: Robert Frost, mending, wall, fences, good, neighbors, southern, border, spikes, pikes, barbed, wire, electrical
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 12:18 AM UTC
Time prickles its victims
Death spikes out families and
Life gives no retries
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 12:06 PM UTC
When melancholy besets
And memories strike
When roses lost in books
Turn into silver spikes
When you hear the sobbing sounds
From the walls of your room
And the world around you
Feels like a perpetual doom
When you feel that you’re trapped
And that you’re a lost cause
When people close to you
Laugh at your blemish and flaws
When you can not see a way
And all your hope disappears
I want you to read this poem
And know that someone cares
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 4:01 AM UTC
0:00
I fly through the front doors
racing upstairs like hunted prey
praying she didn't see me
1:00
I tear open the make remover
and feverishly rip off
the overpowering
jet black eyeliner
2:00
I steal a glance in the bedroom mirror
and throw on a hoodie over my black shirt
quickly swapping out the black pants for jeans
in a crude attempt to look normal
3:00
I hear her steps ringing off the stairs as my heart beats
sounding together like a drum kit
I pull off my spiked black bracelets
and trinkets
hands shaking palms sweating
as I hide them away
4:00
I feel the door opening before it does and
hope i covered up the look, the spikes hidden
the eyeliner gone
i glance in the mirror and see a pale
empty girl looking back
terrified of being caught
5:00
she asks how my day was while casually looking around the room
her ever seeing eyes falling on my undoing
my small black spiked gothic bracelet
hanging off the desk
sticking out like a sore thumb
6:00
she asks what it is
and looks at me questioningly
talking about how she deposes the style
hates the look
as I fumble for an excuse
of the unusual possession
7:00
I lie, its easy now i do it all the time.
But this was different. I tell her
that its a stupid birthday gift
a throwaway I keep because
friends like to see me wear what they bought
but as I utter the words
I feel like Im stabbing my soul
twisting a knife
calling a part of my identity garbage
telling myself that part of myself is simply a throw away
and despite the fact that I use a fake knife
The sting still feels real
because I know that part of what I say is true
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
I once passed by an old lady's garden,
Lined with colored rose bushes, it was like Heaven!
I stopped...I stood, admiring.
The roses were in full bloom that morning.
They were quite tall, like small trees side by side.
Then I noticed other walkers also stopped by.
Beside me, behind me, they were standing,
Sighing, admiring.
Any place, anywhere it stands,
Attention, it instantly commands
Its petals speak of beauty, of fragrance,
To some, they symbolize unspoken devotion.
Its different colors are known to represent
Feelings, specifically, lovers' emotions.
Underneath its hard spiked body, it still is soft.
Its thorns have sharp perfect points
A protective threat, so
inherent,
A powerful deterrent
For those with evil intent.
Its sweet-smelling petals become softer
When held by hands so tender,
To the birds and the bees, they are a teaser,
Butterflies, even dragonflies,
They cannot resist to perch...
We human beings
Can never resist a sniff, a touch,
Love is the stem of a rose, we still dare hold
We disregard the thorns so bold.
In life, there are pricking scares known, yet ignored.
Like the leaves of a rose, we have hidden spikes, our own stories untold,
Our hearts, our feelings are very delicate,
When the arrows hit, ...they're easy to captivate.
But you see,
A rose stands tall
Proud as a concrete wall,
It bows a bit, it gives way
When blooms bear too much weight,
When things seem to always be a prelude
And, we wait for trying moments to conclude.
But when a morning so new
Greets a rose with its cold, fresh dew
Miraculously, it again stands tall,
Proud as a concrete wall.
It survives through the seasons,
"Sleepy" in winter, not at all dying,
Just patiently waiting.
It speaks beyond words, beyond reasons,
For underneath,
It lives.
In its silence,
It survives.
A
rose will
never be a
rose, without its
rough surfaced
leaves and
tho
r
n
......s......
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:::
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC