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Ira Sep 2018
Writing a story on a topic,
Hazing away at the microsoapics,
I write stories that aren’t meant to be fun,
Just the basic humdrum.

Reality is my Inspiration,
No matter the mood I’m in.

Dragons and Wizards are to be left on the bookshelves,
As I run to work,
And meet my colleagues for a day of writing reality.

We walk the world in actuality,
And see people with all different vitality.
People of all different ideas of reality.

They speak,
I listen,
I ask,
And they answer,
And we both learn about reality together.

I then write what I heard,
Tell what I saw,
And let the ideas fly like birds.

I've seen all people of life,
I've heard many of there trifes.

I laughed at their victories,
I cry at their lost,
And I hear all their vivid histories.

I write all types of reality,
From the memories of all different types of vitalities.

And as I write about how reality unfurls,
I write about the greatest dreams of this world
I'm in Journalism so I wrote a poem, about it.
The Dedpoet Oct 2018
The Sun flames a lumen just below
Horizons breath,
Flinging the air at its
Frosty breaths
The need to cry
In dew drops on a cradled nature,

The light is the end of me,
I become cemented,
Enable the chorus to sing
Forbidden in the words
Never sung,
A boy hungry smiling
At at the epitome,

I feel pathetic waves crashing
On sullen rocks,
Pity me not, I i already cried for
Myself,

The hands do not reach out to me,
I cast no shadow,
Approach me ,guarded,
I dont know who you will meet
When we do.
The victim does not know what planned ahead
Also in the prosperity and vicinity
Life interpreted wrong
Keep away from bread

For Whom
More than a question, it is an observation
Let the series of an event happen
Let us teach a lesson

Crime often uses occasions to escalate enjoyment
Talk on FaceTime; death on birthdays
Accidents, job loss; making it random
Plan international; a clue crime; the planned way

Dr Baljit Singh
Wednesday 23rd January 2019
How will you feel
If someone says

He/She would like to
Authenticate
A better life project
With you
Genre: Fantasy
Theme: For the believers of forever
Andrew Aug 2018
Hanging on by just a thread,
The last two left.
"Don't go," she sighs,
but we know my stem only grows more frail.
As the crisp breeze envelops my body, I begin to feel myself detach.


I don't want to leave her.
Do You Remember Me?

while the warmth of the sunlight's kiss
in the ascent of the blissful morning
approach the beauty of your crimson lips?

Do You Remember Me?

in the rise of the bright moon?
like your eyes when you look through mine
the pair I hope to see soon

Do You Remember Me?

when floods of rain starts to pour?
like my eyes that shed endlessly
with tears of pain I cannot endure

Do You Remember Me?

have you ever even thought of me?
or was I just another moment
to pass on by so carelessly?
Help me remember to forget
onlylovepoetry Nov 2017
(the gate is a crowded mess, please no special requests, be thankful you got a seat, this flight is sold out and I’m beat.  
I get up and stand on my chair and say)

I give thanks for:

the uncommon greatness of common sense

for the steady approach of that wondrous day when
kindness is neither random or unexpected,
but the rule, not the exception

for our opinions and deeds, that are our own,
derived without coercion, born from our thoughts and observations and that
we are equal to both
owning them and to
changing them

that we live in a time that friendships can grow just through the quick exchange of words leaping bounds

for eyes that see deep deeper than skin,
ears that hear
what those ashamed wish you didn’t, hands that grasp regardless of distance,
the taste of  kisses that come easy sweet  

for the  day when I at last knew,
the pleasure of giving
so far exceeded receiving,
that giving and receiving became
synonymous

that I learned that the best skill to possess  is
to anticipate
the needs of others

that my lucky position in this world permits me
to act on the things for
which I am thankful


that someday I will need no longer inquire,
are you my poem,
for the answer will be self-evident to us both
LGA 11/22/17 1:00pm
Nothing is pleasing and everything
Is an excuse for anger
An outlet for emotions stockpiled, an armor
These are the days when I hate the world
Hate the rich, hate the happy
Hate the complacent, the TV watchers
The lovers, the satisfied ones
Because I know I can be all of those little hateful things
And then I hate myself for realizing that
There's no preventative, directive or safe approach for living
We each know our own fate
The cribs
Emeka Mokeme Jun 2018
This is my rising,
it is so glaring.
The longer you hold
me down the better
and brighter I shine.
I am like the firefly,
illuminating
the remote darkness
with my brightness,
giving it an
illusion of magic.
The tinted glow
mixed up with
the cries of
mammals and birds
of the night makes it
a mysterious moment.
Alone at deepest abyss,
with the flicker
of the moonlight
penetrating through the
leaves in the forest,
i can hear
the wolves calling out
as if beckoning for
me to approach.
The fireflies giving
out their light
freely unperturbed
by my presence.
How can you not see
the love of nature,
working tirelessly
in synergy
with all things.
Even though you ignore it,
never can it go away,
for the beauty
of its flame
can make the fairies
grant your wish.
The heart knows
the unexplainable
mysteries of the
invisible which the
mouth cannot express.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Zoe Mae Nov 2018
I reached into the bag and
Pulled out what I got
They said I had to live with it
Like it or not
It didn't seem fair
But they insisted it was
Life is what your born
I asked why? Just because
They said please go stand
In that line over there
A biped will approach you
Pretending to care
At this point I tossed
My grab back towards the sack
I quipped I'll pass on the offer
And dove into the black
Paul Mackenzie May 2010
1.

A broken path of pleasure,
Confronts my waking mind,
Skeletons line the carpet,
The path I seek to bind.

2.

Uncertainty surrounds me,
But so the way of life,
An infant artist,
An unconscious exuberance,
The perverse I secretly entice.

3.

Duel opposition's approach in unison,
Fighting for peace with each,
The true anima hides beneath the blood,
Narcissistic emotions ***** on a beach.

4.

Forbidden in reality,
The dark caves of the primal soul,
The lost murmurs of effrontery,
Tortured desires repressed explode.
                                            
………………………………………………………
emilienne 09 Jan 2017
Waves of remorse approach the shore
And recede back into the ocean once more
As these memories crash against the beach
I look back on what made me weak
I recall the bridges that I burned
And all the cards I left unturned
In this purgatory I will stay
No capacity for dismay
There is a poem by tay-anne called "The Only Lecture That Really Matters".  Tay's chilling quote from that piece, "Because a life lived in purgatory is better than one lived in ****" inspired me to write something with an atmosphere of apathy.
Kiva Beth Apr 2018
sometimes

I wish that I could get out of here,
Away from the dead thud of your approach.

You remanifest with a mouth full of flat line
nothing’s changed.

A man with the same nature about him,
The same engorged rhetoric toward life I wished to bury in my garden, long before. 

A wound in the backyard, untraceable and
unremarkable.

Not of my heart
But of Her Red Sea in which you reside now 
Only as blood. 

Buried along with my *****,
Along with my softness and my victim.

sometimes

I don’t want to see you again
means, when all this is over, don’t look at me 
and expect to see the same person.
Tammy M Darby Feb 2017
Rest your weary body
Drink from my golden goblet
The most delicate and finest of wines
A potion of wild raspberries, bitterness and jeering contempt
Assault the light that dare not shine

It is the elixir of a dispassionate heart
If you possess no fear
Taste the confectionery of sadness call
Where love frightened evades approach
Upon remembrance of the long dark fall

Sip from the golden goblet
Taste the cruel sweetness of pain
Damnation to those who denounce the motive behind the actions
Until the bed of anguish you have lain

But these rare wines have no equal in quality
Defiled by evil and cursed with shame
The unquenchable thirst for blood taints the golden rim
As the murderous night slew the rising of the day

So lift high the golden goblet and drink  
An immortal taste of time
Accompany me into the world of melancholy
Where is served the most of exquisite wines
Come close now the hour when words become whispers
Demanding recompense for the crimes.

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Feb. 8. 2017
Written for the Monster
L B Aug 2018
Pinto?

No, not the wild-spirited, color-splotched mare
with mane streaming like flames-thrown
behind in the wind
Taking desert inclines
with scuffing hooves on rock
catching her balance in mesquite
curbing?
The sage, dust
All
that nature throws in its pathway to knowledge
toward treachery of crosswalks?

“P-l-e-a-s-e  don't slow down!
Stop signs--?
”No!
Just keep going!
Don't slow down now!”

“They'll hear us coming
3 blocks away!”

Pinto?
Clogged carburetor--?
No one much-mentioned
rear-end inferno reputation??
A mere twinge in my signature
Woman-without-a-clue

“Hey, it runs, right?
Gets where we're goin'?”

Kids duck in back seat
so as not to be seen
In the cloud of smoke
We make our approach

Hiss Spitter, Belch, Pop
and--

BANG!

--Like a gunshot

Kids take cover
on street, in backseat
duck down
so not to be noticed...

“Oh Ma!  
MA!!!
Not right here!
Farther down!”

...so not to be seen
...by friends that matter...
in this ride
from ****!
Backfiring Beast--

“Friends”
skitter away
from what will emerge from the smoke and fumes
of high-risk-situation

Kids spill out through jammed door
to unexpected accolades
onto equality's curb
of laughter  
Public school's
wake of exhaust and relief

I drive mercifully away


Start of another school day
True. I swear!  Had this car for a short while in the early 80s when I went back to college.  It met its demise in a front-end collision.  Woman with no license ran a stop sign, plowing me into a utility pole.  The Pinto's reputation for fiery explosions burst across my mind.  I couldn't help but note the clicking hissing sound.  No time to think of my banged-up head.  Door was jammed, but window still rolled down, so I climbed through it in a skirt, no less, and ran.  Car was totaled.  If the collision had been just a little farther back, I might not be writing about it.
ryn Sep 2014
Doom train hurtling along
Through the fog in my mind
Towing freight, rectangular and oblong
Dim headlights, you're travelling blind

Five carriages long, excluding engine and caboose
Metal against metal, spitting sparks on steel
Undetermined path, rails will choose
Chugging along on dirt covered wheels

In the cabin, I see the light
Emanating from your furnace
Swallowing up coals in your gaping bite
Tongues of flames licking the surface

Fire breathing, spewing thick black smoke
Almost unseen, against the dark of night
A long plumy arm as if extending to choke
And plug the remaining sources of light

Meandering precariously on tracks that weave
Over uncharted, unfathomable terrain
Your store, so reliably you heave
Worming your way through my brain

What's in that cargo of yours?
What lies within those boxcars?
What drives you to diligently run your course?
What fuels you to travel near and far?

Loads of self pity, self loathing and self reproach
Snaking your way to an unknown destination
Screeching brakes as if a stop you approach
Herald the train of dubious intentions

Light is upon you, dark will dissipate
Your plumes starting to lessen from your stack
The dawn breaking horizon you didn't anticipate
To see another charging towards you on this very same track...
See "Light Train"
See "Collision Course"
Daisy Marrow Dec 2013
Someday your pain
will be beneath you.
Someday you'll see
that all that crying
bloomed flowers
under your feet.

When the sun rises,
I'll see you across the room.
It's been years since I've disappeared
but I did it all to protect you.
Keep you safe from the dark
that follows you and
tries to hurt you.

I ran into the darkness for you,
this was my plan
and now I've returned from the black for anew,
and I owe you a thousand apologies
In the morning,
I'll approach you.
It's been three years.
The story has ended
and I have shed my own tears.

"Don't apologize to me."
Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Sherlock BBC
Kewayne Wadley Sep 2018
She Is home for me.
Anywhere she goes my heart is sure to follow.
The comfort that brings about the biggest smile.
Home being the first place I fell in love with.
Maturing into the memory I'll always know.
A place of acceptance no matter how crazy things get.
This feel good feeling that erupts soon as she is near.
The faster I approach.
The driveway in view.
To tell everyone where I am from.
Where I am going.
Being home is beautiful.
This loving feeling, knowing that I exist inside of you.
Appearing in thought, lounging around.
The beginning of life spent in a warm place.
You are with me every where I go.
My city, my home, my warm embrace.
For me, she is home
Qweyku Jun 2015
There is a woman I oft meet
On my journey here to home

Hey Lady!
I feign to shout.
My complexion's dark
But not my Soul.
So when you fright
On my approach
For
Goodness
Sake;
There is no need
To cross the road.

I'll feel that for a millennia,
ME
&
My kin

You so rudely
Robbing me,
Of the
opportunity,
To politely
Commune with you...
“good morning”

Then again,
You could be applying,
Learned street smarts?
Changing lanes,
Avoiding crossing paths.
This
Uptown
Downtown
Topsy-Turvy
Up-side-down

YOU'RE - SO - COOL
Pretending not to see me,
Hiding under your
Beats
Skull candy.

What sweet music
are you channeling?
Tunes contrary to Art?
Con
Artist
Purveyors
of
Catchy wicked things
Said twice?
High definition
'Stereo'
Types?


Shall we dance from a distance
Again tomorrow?

Yes of course!
For I believe,
You too have been deceived.

Hey! Ms. Concept,
R U
Thinking;
The beauty found in this deep Brown,
Predetermines fact that
I'm called
Black?



**© Qwey.ku
I wonder...
what does this say about you & me?

The dictionary's definition of Black:

lacking hue and brightness;
absorbing light without reflecting any of the rays composing it.
characterized by absence of light; enveloped in darkness
soiled or stained with dirt
gloomy; pessimistic; dismal
deliberately; harmful; inexcusable
boding ill; sullen or hostile; threatening

Also
pertaining or belonging to any of the various populations characterized by dark skin pigmentation, specifically the dark-skinned peoples of Africa, Oceania, and Australia.
African American.
TinaMarie May 2017
Cinnamon aroma
    Warmed fingertips.
Approach eager lips
     A gentle sip.

Eyes close
      A blissful smile.
Deep breath...     In
     Exhale...     Out.


Mind replays
      The joy of last night.
As My Love
     Enters the room.
          

Good
               Morning
                                    Darling


More Coffee?
#love #coffee #romance
the dead bird Apr 2016
critical thinking
as you call it;

that which
I seem to lack.
need to
improve
upon.
and I agree in ways.

you said,
it is observing
the situation,
the pieces,
I have at hand,
and deducing
the best possible way
in my knowledge
to make them
fit together.

sounds
quite simple -
common sense.

simple,
if my mind
ran as smoothly as your own.
a trait of yours
I admire greatly.
a trait of others
I am envious of.

but critical thinking
is different when
my mode of
thinking
is not the same

I do not see
my surroundings;
my life,
my reality,
as cogs and gears
that progress
this existence.

I admire
the way you,
and others
pick up on the
little
small
hidden artifacts
that allow yourself
to discover
the best
possible way
to proceed.

if I were to say,
you noticed
the overlooked
and finer details,
I would say
I notice-
no-
I experience awareness
of it's entirety.
how it feels
to me
and how I feel
about it.

if our
individual
thought processes
were placed
in an ever changing river,
whose currents
vary
and are unpredictable?
yours
would be
picking up the driftwood
the sticks,
and objects in grasp.

and as the current carries it,
it would be constructing
a raft
to stay afloat:
safe
and
in the most
comfortable way,
so it could eventually
construct
something suitable
and sturdy
to rest upon,
and relax with content,
while enjoying
the splashes
and warm sunlight
from a safe spot.

instead of
deducing the situation
as yours did,
my thought process
would drift along
the same river,
letting the current
take it under -
if that is where
it felt like going.
finding logs
and debris
to hang on to
when the current
became too much
and it needed a break.

yours may be
high and dry,
but mine has felt
the pebbles
along the bottom
of this river -
the depth and pressure
almost frightening,
but the experience
in itself
always beautiful.
mine floats upon it's back,
like an otter,
enjoying the sunlight
as yours does,
experiencing
this journey through
the rivers path.

and maybe,
if the current gets rough,
if mine is struggling,
it will find the hand
of yours
lifting it up
to keep it safe
until the rocky waters
have passed.

I experience
as I feel,
which may not
be the best approach
all of the time.

but with this,
I am able to
feel
what I believe
is the best choice,
based
on my experience
of the whole.

you make me
feel
and want to
try
new ways of thinking,
new ways
that may help.
you are always pushing
pushing me
to do more
to be more;

which is just one
of the many reasons
why I love you.
umm idk I kinda started writing and then went with it!
w y n n e Feb 2017
45
i will try to deprive myself of you, to distant myself from you

i will try not to look at you too much nor initiate a conversation  with you

i will try not to mind how you look nor to mind how you speak

i will try to resist breaking your wall; to resist trying to approach whenever i see you online or alone

i will try to look at what's bad about you - your inability to be true to yourself of what you really feel, to your coldness, your indifference, your offenses

i will try to ignore you each day in hopes that i will not hope for you

i will try to calm my heart whenever i see your messages on my phone or whenever you're near

i will try not to admire your music taste, your smarts

i will try not to think of you nor dream about you at night

i will try not to sneak a peek

i will try to protect my heart from you

i will try to hate you really hard

but please

don't go looking at me, too

with those gentle eyes of yours

it makes all of these futile if i catch you checking on me too

you're a tease boy, don't make this so ******* me
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