Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
nivek
there are not always words to hand

you are not always full to the brim

these times of hard empty testing

come around and come around

and they never ever get any easier.
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Traveler
It occurs to me
We see life's matters
Simultaneously
The same yet
Somewhat very differently...
Copious
The information available
There's no need
For anyone to believe
They are infallible
Myself?
Just when
I think I know
Truth come
And then I'm sold
I've seen the light
Turn to dark
I've felt such evil
Break my heart
To consider peoples lives
Expendable
Without a question
The lowest low
So
Don't pretend
That separation
Can somehow mend
Concidering
We are all together
   On this planet
      Until it's bitter end...
Traveler Tim
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Valsa George
With no cover ups, let me be frank
At times my mind goes utterly blank
When I sit down to write a poem
From topic to topic, my mind does roam
But nothing comes to spark off a rhyme
Often I feel the words do not chime
Today as I sat down to write something
I ended up conjuring nothing

No thoughts came to stir up my brain
And no topic I found save my strain
But I wasn’t ready to willfully give up
And waited impatient for my mind to clear up
I thought I shall settle with ‘Compassion’
But alas, it was charged with no passion

The urge to write had grown into a fad
And I felt I was growing altogether mad
Plagued by a fiery fancy to express
And a tormenting desire unable to suppress
With a mental state somewhat fierce
I climbed up and down the stairs

I stood upside down and raked my head
So that a little poem, into it would be fed
Feeling dizzy, I stood suddenly upright
But on my head hung a heavy weight
I poured some water over my head
But knew my fever hadn’t fled

Madly pacing across the room
I tripped and fell down on a broom
Rising, I screamed with all my might
Making the household ring in fright
‘What the hell is it?’ I did shout
And wriggled in pain as from gout

In mad frenzy, I ran round the house
No one knew the reason for my fuss
Soon it dawned on me that I needed some rest
For I was far more than stressed
So I sat down and closed my eyes
Thinking, attempting to squeeze out a poem is unwise

I don’t know how long I sat in meditation
On waking up I got a fresh direction
From the grip of an entangling rigor
I restored my sanity and vigor

The sun had gone out of sight
And the moon was beautiful and bright
It was already growing late
And I put off my futile fight
A fun write, partially true and partially facetious... ! But if you show the patience to read, I assure.... you will surely enjoy and will feel it is your experience too!
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Valsa George
At times the soul gets clenched
in an unspeakable grief
In a demoniac grip, it chokes and wriggles
The pain of being stung by a dozen scorpions
or hacked piece by piece by an axe

Tremulous grows the heart, over love that is spent
Seeks in vain to revive the joy that is gone
Strains to lift up the veil that darkens the soul
Wrestles to come out from the desolate cave of black solitude
The more it struggles to wade through the mess
the deeper it plunges into the morass of despair
Clung on talons of excruciating pain,
wailing a long wail of never being understood
the mind goes berserk
whirling and churning.

Anytime the volcano might erupt
emitting fumes of sulphurous smoke  
with asphalt lava, spilling out,
blowing life with its violent breath.
There are dark moments in everybody's life! Life is one of light and shade..... !
 Sep 2017 Book Thief
Rogue
Dripping rays of the saturated sun, adorning,
kissing your face as you lift sight accenting
the beauty of your underrated self, reflecting
the stunning soul you contained within

Holding a cup of coffee, allevating
the pain and misery from yesterday's battling
for dawn's a cue of another beginning
So wear your amory and start to gleam
Better than yesterday! You shall deem,
and you will have the favor of the sunbeam
Thought it was Over

Thought it was over. It isn’t. A call,
A telephone call late at night. Prepare
Once again up and out with the curfew dawn
Yawning in the windshield, searching the night

Another paper cup of coffee for the road
The last breakfast biscuit at the gas stop
Three days out of date. It’s embalmed by now
Lines for gas, only there isn’t any gas

Lines for ice, lines for food, roads flooded out
Thought it was over. The coffee is cold
Next page