Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Shadows dance along walls
Cold, undulating fire
Threatens to suffocate
My thoughts,—I go on walks
Outside, the golden leaves
Know how to be better.

A dormant forest sees
Balance between forces,
Ever-changing seasons,
The purposeful movement
Of critters and giants.

Is the forest moral?
Wolves know moderation
Better than most of us.
My reason breaks:
Do humans still bother
With being good
These days?
white dove sheds feathers,

drifting through the silent dark,

contrast of lost wings.
 Feb 14 Michael John
AM
The words slipped out-
"I don’t want this anymore"
Had I blinked,
I wouldn’t have said it.

And just like that,
they took shape,
sharp as thorns,
wilting his smile
as they struck.

And just like that,
I stood alone,
Had I blinked,
he wouldn't be gone.
deer tracks in the snow
forget what you think you know
enjoy being lost
I want to write honestly.
Speak the truth.
I want to stare in a mirror
and see anyone but you.

I want to love out loud
and speak my feelings, too.
I'm not the kind of brave
that counts, no matter what I do.

I wish it wasn't almost over
that I had more time to spend.
I want to speak words into facts,
to stand tall but only ever bend.
I'm working toward a finish
but only coming to an end.
 Jan 25 Michael John
Roxy
Camus says "there's no sense in living,
And you should keep your eyes wide open"
But I'll devote my life to writing
and people, beautifully broken.
Amen, I guess
 Jan 25 Michael John
Rick
all that pain
and belittlement
you served me
day and night
when no one
was looking
made the little
man within you
feel much, much,
much bigger
but now you
stand before me
weeping
with no teeth
and the big man
within me
has forgiven you.
 Jan 23 Michael John
Nobody
i'm breathing fast
i'm seeing the past
things i don't want to remember
hit me like a blast

anxiety rising
breath denying
i'm hearing their words
i feel like i'm dying

their words hit me like a stab
i crunch like a crab
that they stepped on
i feel a jab

words bleed out of my chest
as i remember what i don't want to
i'm not ready
wait... just let me

try
to
forget
Because we languish
  in time--we've hardly lived
bearing the weight of living
often in moaning and grief

for the right words we struggle
in vain our very angst to relieve
in vagueness we know other people
life is the perennial lacuna-- not a gift
Joe the red ate lots of bread.
His massive gut was quite well fed.
So slow his feet, to cross the street,
that angry drivers wished him dead.
A limerick I came up with a long time ago. I’m not an expert on limericks. I just assume this is how they go.
Next page