Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#tremors
Ten thousand screams, seething with rage, Ten thousand cries, trembling with pain, Merging into one, a relentless wave, Years of feeling, fractured and fleeting, Rushing through the corridors of my mind. A violent melody, endless and raw, A symphony stretching across eternity, Then everything dissolved into silence, I sank to my knees, drowning in emotion, What was this feeling, unnameable, ungraspable? It was everything at once, yet nothing at all, Tremors rippled, inside and out, Echoing through the fragile shell of my world, The walls I built, brick by careful brick, Collapsed in seconds, a symphony of ruin. What was that feeling? They called it panic. I thought I was fine, thought I was okay, But was my well-being a masterful illusion, A play I directed to soothe my mind, To fabricate solace for my existence? That feeling—everywhere, yet nowhere at all— The tight, suffocating pain, piercing through, Everywhere, yet nowhere, a phantom ache, My world crumbling, and truth dawning: I was doing too much, yet not enough. It was cold, unrelenting, this truth— Nothing is enough, not even everything. I wanted to cry, not just inside, But to pour out the ache that hollowed my chest, Yet Death hovered, its blade aimed at my heart. Cold, numbing, but somehow awakening, I had to stop pretending, stop the facade, To find the strength to truly be fine, Not in illusion, but in truth’s embrace, To seek the help that heals the soul. Everywhere, yet nowhere at all— The pain, the guilt, the resentment, Aimed at everything, yet nothing at all. And in that moment, I gave myself permission, To not be okay— and that was enough. -fir.m
0
Nov 28, 2024
Nov 28, 2024 at 1:44 PM UTC
Everything, yet nothing at all.
Ten thousand screams, seething with rage, Ten thousand cries, trembling with pain, Merging into one, a relentless wave, Years of feeling, fractured and fleeting, Rushing through the corridors of my mind. A violent melody, endless and raw, A symphony stretching across eternity, Then everything dissolved into silence, I sank to my knees, drowning in emotion, What was this feeling, unnameable, ungraspable? It was everything at once, yet nothing at all, Tremors rippled, inside and out, Echoing through the fragile shell of my world, The walls I built, brick by careful brick, Collapsed in seconds, a symphony of ruin. What was that feeling? They called it panic. I thought I was fine, thought I was okay, But was my well-being a masterful illusion, A play I directed to soothe my mind, To fabricate solace for my existence? That feeling—everywhere, yet nowhere at all— The tight, suffocating pain, piercing through, Everywhere, yet nowhere, a phantom ache, My world crumbling, and truth dawning: I was doing too much, yet not enough. It was cold, unrelenting, this truth— Nothing is enough, not even everything. I wanted to cry, not just inside, But to pour out the ache that hollowed my chest, Yet Death hovered, its blade aimed at my heart. Cold, numbing, but somehow awakening, I had to stop pretending, stop the facade, To find the strength to truly be fine, Not in illusion, but in truth’s embrace, To seek the help that heals the soul. Everywhere, yet nowhere at all— The pain, the guilt, the resentment, Aimed at everything, yet nothing at all. And in that moment, I gave myself permission, To not be okay— and that was enough. -fir.m
Continue reading...
41
As he walked about the world, it fell to shambles around him. Buildings crumbled, the sky fell, the ground tremored beneath his feet. He'd rub his temples, blink his eyes, and scream within his mind. Then it would all reform, destruction undone before his eyes. He'd walk about his world again and it would all fall to shambles.
0
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 8:02 AM UTC
Shambles
Crumbling down Seek safety in a doorway I feel the walls shake Falling falling under your gaze Warmth in your smile Left my world trembling Splintering and breaking apart reasoning Wave after wave, nerves carrying this seismic activity And I am quaking for your touch Unable to speak Unable to hold my balance Gripping onto the doorway, knuckles white Gaze to the floor, focusing Quivering lips, wavering breath I am in the doorway you have just crossed Clutching your arm you stop Looking at each other You know what I can’t say Pulling me close Tumbling, crumbling are these walls Heart tremors Love has come and shook my world upside down
0
Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 5:15 PM UTC
Earthquake
tremors, take over me with this falling feather head, control me breathing one two three my blood pumps as i drown in reverie fire, take a hold of me embrace my body consume me and as i float in this ocean in these waters, this serenity i dream of you, lover, to hold me
0
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 8:39 AM UTC
untitled
Malignant gangrenous political cancer corrupts, festers, and poisons United States, thus opposition cannot wait, especially since Gospel in accordance with feeble minded Donald Trump implemented wrought ugly trait, particularly obliteration, sans progressive human rights legislation more or less pronounced positive in every L ionized Nittany or cotton bowl state and ratiocination inherent within mine Democrat oriented mind doth rate this forty fifth president (defect) with sawdust packing his noodle oven egotistical pate trophy wife (spouse number three), a Slovenia mate donning "I don't care anymore" t-shirt rousing media firestorm of late essentially silently corroborating, fostering, and illuminating hate mutely bolstering the Trump anthem, viz make America great again, which pathless, pithless, and pointless aim roars like an earsplitting runaway freight train oblivious of wailing soul asylum, that no era meets said criteria backtracking time machine before rightful indigenous occupants of this land got decimated as one after another exploiter did inundate (comprising a multitude of indigenous variety of village people indignantly subjected to Genocide, when first "discoverer" of new land didst promulgate activation wrought deliberate sealed fate vis a vis capitulation, demolition, and extirpation, cuz a scathing rebuke aye attest, those murderers didst equate worthlessness of so called "Indians" on 1492 date, and still remnants of storied tribes, now attempt to create historical documentation operate ting with limited resources to adjudicate. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Food methinks doth buzzfeed drumbeat agog at pyrotechnics July 4th, 2018 shared as blog posts, a falsehood prevails which dog gone “FAKE” brewed watered down grog posits that the majority of Colonialists stay hog tied to strict task masters, and mainly the scant upperclass experienced autonomy, no matter the under class didst futilely rant and rave with the occasional uprisings over time did grant minimal appeasement to stifle violent kant!
0
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 1:00 AM UTC
The Propagation Of Hate
Malignant gangrenous political cancer corrupts, festers, and poisons United States, thus opposition cannot wait, especially since Gospel in accordance with feeble minded Donald Trump implemented wrought ugly trait, particularly obliteration, sans progressive human rights legislation more or less pronounced positive in every L ionized Nittany or cotton bowl state and ratiocination inherent within mine Democrat oriented mind doth rate this forty fifth president (defect) with sawdust packing his noodle oven egotistical pate trophy wife (spouse number three), a Slovenia mate donning "I don't care anymore" t-shirt rousing media firestorm of late essentially silently corroborating, fostering, and illuminating hate mutely bolstering the Trump anthem, viz make America great again, which pathless, pithless, and pointless aim roars like an earsplitting runaway freight train oblivious of wailing soul asylum, that no era meets said criteria backtracking time machine before rightful indigenous occupants of this land got decimated as one after another exploiter did inundate (comprising a multitude of indigenous variety of village people indignantly subjected to Genocide, when first "discoverer" of new land didst promulgate activation wrought deliberate sealed fate vis a vis capitulation, demolition, and extirpation, cuz a scathing rebuke aye attest, those murderers didst equate worthlessness of so called "Indians" on 1492 date, and still remnants of storied tribes, now attempt to create historical documentation operate ting with limited resources to adjudicate. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Food methinks doth buzzfeed drumbeat agog at pyrotechnics July 4th, 2018 shared as blog posts, a falsehood prevails which dog gone “FAKE” brewed watered down grog posits that the majority of Colonialists stay hog tied to strict task masters, and mainly the scant upperclass experienced autonomy, no matter the under class didst futilely rant and rave with the occasional uprisings over time did grant minimal appeasement to stifle violent kant!
Continue reading...
60
#4 | Heartbreak in Hatfield I had you constantly coming down a few minutes after breaking down. In the presence of clumsy hands, fragile hearts break like porcelain does. It is summer time somewhere but it is currently autumn right here in Pretoria. Sometimes I wish that you’d never ask about my love life because I could never love or be loved right. Love is the highest vibration and that’s why I always feel tremors every time I step out of my comfort zone. You remind me of the month of August, you always remind me of the calmness of the colour blue. Like a painter admiring the presence of his exquisite muse, I can’t stop looking at every colour of you. Love is the highest vibration and that’s why I always feel tremors every time I step out of my comfort zone. We cannot survive in the world with all these secrets that we have if all that we have is a lie. Love is the result of all the vibrations of tremors that shook a long time ago.
0
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 7:35 AM UTC
Vibrations of Tremors
With manly aggravations he strums- Strums the rust and the anguish away from the strings. I saw them, floating away from him; vibrating in midair Those compositions from his melancholy days, Echoing... The notes have, somehow, reverberated through my cathedral soul- I can feel them. I could still locate the ringing at the ceiling of my skull. And if I wish to I could even feel the faint tremors in my heart- And realize it's actually pulsating... But surely, it's just an after shock from the sounds resonating It would fade away. Of course it will just fade away. It would fade away the moment he stops playing.
0
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 5:45 AM UTC
Resonance
I taste like heaven and hell. Like the nightmares you had where you were left in the middle of the ocean. Drowning You woke up crying. Or the one where you watched everyone you loved die. But It was you shooting. I taste like the hidden corners of your closet where you keep your diaries. With pages filled with how you’d touch me. I am the burnt sugar on the edge of the pan. The drops of ice cream that leave your fingers sticky.
0
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 6:38 PM UTC
Heaven or Hell
Lying on my stomach I remember the way your fingers felt unbuttoning my flesh. The way your teeth left cursive along my spine Beckoning me to open like a book that you were never allowed to read. I will unfold for you with the promise that you will only sign your name in blood Along the edge of my sanity and only if you take me out of my mind. I am not looking to lay anywhere except six feet under Where I can feel your fire without fear of burning myself with your flame. So I beg you- Cover me in gasoline Strike me where you please And leave your sigil in my ashes.
0
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 4:53 PM UTC
I'm begging
the leaves all left you went west again i know you can't stand to see all that death i don't blame you those feet belong on the beach not between frozen lakes or forming paths over concrete please don't mind me trembling my palms are becoming mistakes you must've felt their fault lines so here's hoping san andreas keeps you safe safe and out of the cold safe from the quakes in my bones
0
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
Strike/slip