Sent to prison for killing Autumn,
I made the same mistake last year,
Each bar an icy steel column,
Separating me from summers cheer.

My feet are numb, my fingers frozen,
Kept from the world in my frosty pen.
I reflect on the lonesome path I’ve chosen,
But know I will do the same again.

This prison is hell, chilled to the bone.
The warden called Weather is rather glum,
Winter does that to a man starved of home,
Its freezing walls are fast to benumb.

I beg for pardon of my crime,
I feel remorse and true dismay.
I am defrosted just in time,
To be released on Christmas Day.

I reflect on Winter’s release of me,
And wonder what the future will bring?
The gloom defrosts inside of me,
As my heart is warmed by emerging Spring.

It approaches swiftly.
A monsoon of rain readily setting off
Naive natives and their tiresome routines.
Shutters shroud the windows with irrational security,
Sandbags too are placed; it must be a big one!
Clouds roll and tumble into position.
A sunset evaporates quickly,
Yellow to orange to red and BANG,
As quick as a flash of lightning it blackens.
Pure darkness, but for humanity’s scars.
Another scar takes their places
As a deafening crash collapses the eardrums,
Seconds after its divine light pierces the sky,
The soul and that artificial light.
Darkness now, but for lightning,
Blinding flashlights and candles.

Dewy droplets descend into view,
Dripping hopelessly through a silver fork.
Frightened faces too are seen,
Made more frightening by flashlight.
Rain, lightning and thunder
Can’t silence children’s cries
But can still awaken the waves –
Serfs turned warriors in an instant,
Harassing the horrified sandbags,
Overpowered and silenced.
The satanic storm battles on
Callously battering a weary world.
The sickening sun shines into the eye
And a torn green turtle begins to cry.

To create poetry or flash fiction in one hundred and forty characters. What a truly modern art form. Composing, like a symphony, my laziness

‪If I had to pick one moment to keep,‬
‪It would be that night when I walked you home ‬
‪And we kissed and were anxious ‬
‪But you seemed so happy.‬

‪Finding solace in fondly-remembered films used to be enough. Now they are just a reminder that nothing is the same since you broke my heart.‬

‪There's no such thing as a happy ending, ‬
‪Only happy chapters soon to cease.‬
‪Even Romeo had brief perfection,‬
‪Before they changed his scene.‬

‪There is only so much of your heart‬
‪You can pour before it is just empty,‬
‪And everything you have given‬
‪Just trickles slowly down the drain.‬

‪"Gráinne, I love you," into the wind.‬
‪When you are drowning, you can't hear as well. ‬
‪It is funny the things you forget when you're in love.‬

‪It's impossible to find another dream girl ‬
Now that you're gone,
Because it's been almost a month
And I still can't get any ******* sleep.

‪Deprivation of physical contact is the purest form of loneliness. Since you've been gone I cannot feel anything but deprivation. I need air.‬

‪Revisiting the campus of my broken dreams,‬
‪And the ghost of my failure:‬
‪You, my love, who works among the trees‬
‪Of my heart's wood, are lost‬

‪"Storm's a-coming,"‬
‪As is the nightmare I'd almost forgotten:‬
‪The windows rattling,‬
‪And that godawful wind howling‬
‪At the boy who did wrong.‬

‪Every night I cry myself to sleep,‬
‪Feeling your body comfort me.‬
‪My phantom limb, ‬
‪You were never there,‬
‪Yet every night I die in your arms.‬

I'm feelin' inspired today o' alt'days - when George Bailey'st' richest man int'own, but I can't think of out worth writin' so I wrote this.

‪Would Romeo and Juliet be any less tragic if, instead of them dying, they could just never see each other again? Just asking for a friend...‬

‪If I can look at the smashed bottles and see the green glass shards illuminate your beauty on the streets, can't you find some beauty in me?‬

‪The loneliness I feel without you‬
‪Stifles like a hug that lasts too long‬
‪On a hot day - Hell, I would do‬
‪Anything for you to hug me that way‬

‪Do what others need.‬
‪Bury yourself in work.‬
‪Brush until you bleed.‬
‪Drink until you're numb.‬
‪Cry until you're shattered.‬
‪Then sleep may come.‬

Today I watched a man go into the sea to swim with his dog.
The urge to drown myself was perhaps the strongest it's ever been.
It scares me

It is of this poet's opinion,
That if a poet was to write
Eleven pages worth of poetry
For one heart-breaking woman,
She must be important.

‪I poured my words into a letter,‬
‪Made sure I got every drop -‬
‪That was the easy part -‬
‪Saying how you make me feel.‬
‪The hard part is waiting‬

‪Desperately failing to forget you.‬
‪It's hard to look forward to ‬
‪The blue Cuban seas as they part‬
‪When you're a Caribbean sunset in my heart‬

‪Even though I fear that I'll never see you again,‬
‪That your memory of me will fade into the wind,‬
‪My determination; my love for you resists.‬

‪Dancing salsa in a cave‬
‪Makes it harder to behave, ‬
‪But it's easier to repeat‬
‪Your footsteps in the Cuban heat‬
‪With kisses, as I feel brave.‬

Eve's crime was not biting the apple, but accepting the idea that she was to blame for man's fall.

That, in my experience, was inevitable.

And so, my Tweet Verse reaches its sad conclusion.
My characters, though they double in size,
Are fed to the wind,
And a new chapter begins.

The wind and rain are battering your window, and all you can think about is your 13 year old self, and how the watermark was up to your neck

Life can sometimes get bitter-
It feels like there's no going back,
But if the knife ain't gonna slit her
She'll still take her coffee black

Saoirse wanted motivation
Before the new year celebration.
I bid to write her a poem I'd parsed
But on her acceptance I couldn't be arsed

"New Year, new you" she said as she took off her old one and put on a brave new face. This one hid the bruises but not the tears in her eyes

When floating on your back, all is well.
It is only when you are drowning that you start to
notice how many of your friends also can't swim.

Yah. Aw jeez. Blood and snow, I tell ya, scary stuff.
That Fargo's mighty rough,
And I'm guessing that's your accomplice in the wood chipper

Take a bow you white knights
As you blast the Academy's critics
With silent "N"'s and thinly veiled white hoods
Check your ******* privilege

Do I fall in love so easily because I enjoy writing poetry, or does a poet within my soul soar to the surface with the ease in which I fall?

They used to burn, stretch, or cut you, but now, they just get a girl with a beautiful smile and soul to not use Facebook very often. Agony.

Poets are the creatures who can't love themselves
So they try and love everyone else instead.
The tragedy is that it always ends badly...

Maybe it's because I've been lonely for a while or maybe it's a weird side-effect of depression, or maybe I'm delirious from this course but

Regularly I'm a master of oration,
But when it comes to
Deep feelings of affection
can't I just bury my head
and hand her a poem instead?

I need to change the way I live, for I am desperately unhappy. But change is something I fear more than anything. What if it doesn't fix me?

You fear she won't feel the same way and then you dispel all doubt as the self-realisation, you simply aren't good enough for her, manifests

I lack courage to tell you how I feel (that, I know, when you're in my arms) but as I am awfully sick now I bet you make a mean chicken soup

Some people have a phobia of clowns, but I just have a fear that one specific clown with a beautiful smile doesn't feel how I feel about her

I finally send the message and now I wait.
Every second is agony and I could drown in the silence,
Just like I drown in your eyes every time

She was too beautiful a flame to not be drawn in.
I flutter, ever closer, wanting nothing but to feel her warmth without singeing my wings.

She adored cinema and took it all in. Now she is blind and touches the screen, constructing the images in her head, weeping at their beauty.

Friends are a wonder. Never in all my dreams could I imagine such souls that could save me from myself. That could make me feel so alive...

Fallin' in love is easy. The hard part is copin' with it when it ain't reciprocated. 'Cuz you're lookin' for a light that simply ain't there

Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
Does it hurt hiding your wings?
Girl, you must be an angel
Because you're a figment of my imagination

Like a lot of "artists" I fall in love with someone about once a day. The ones it happens regularly with are the ones that are worth poetry.

When she doesn't have a voice, and she shies from the written word, you can only imagine the cruel ways she's tearing your heart in her head