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I turn the last page,
The next is blank.

Blank blank blank blank blank
Blank blank blank blank blank
Blank blank blank blank blank
Blank blank blank blank blank

B L A N K

                                   Blank

So white it's screaming
So empty I’m left reeling

The lack of words
A void so loud
I squint my eyes unseeing.

I don’t think I’m ready yet
I dont think I'll ever be,
It hurts too much to be alone
Is this the price of being free?
Ember Evanescent Nov 2014
"DEAR BLANK CHALLENGE" PLEASE PLEASE READ THIS AND REPOST TRY TO KEEP IT GOING:  HELLOPOETRY "DEAR BLANK" CHALLENGE SECRET SANTA POEMS EXCEPT NOT SECRET AND NOT SANTA RANDOM ACT/POEM OF KINDNESS STRANGER POETRY APPRECIATION

I thought it might be nice to do like a secret santa thingy on hellopoetry only not secret and not santa… what I mean is, find a random stranger you literally have never met and do NOT know at all whose poetry you like and spend actual time genuinely reading their work, picking out your favorite lines and responding to them, pondering them, etc. Write something positive to them and post it as a poem with their name in the title. The “DEAR BLANK” challenge only you put their name instead of “blank”. I think we could all use a little recognition that we exist and are worth something since everyone seems a little depressed on here (including myself) which is fine, it’s a great outlet but it would be nice for people to just spontaneously find that a random stranger spent time in their life just to recognize you and care about your poetry. To write a kind poem/letter to them responding to lines in their poetry. If you need an example I just posted DEAR IMALRIGHT which was exactly what I meant. Check out imalright's poetry btw it is amazing.
I plan on doing for more than one person and I'd love for you to do the same. Spread a little kindness, we could all use a little.
Also message me if you are going to do the challenge and message the stranger you do the DEAR BLANK challenge for so they know to look for and read your poem.
I just thought that Imalright who was a perfect stranger to me seemed like a wonderful poet and a wonderful person based on her poetry so I chose her.
You do that too if you accept the DEAR BLANK challenge.
INCLUDE DEARBLANKCHALLENGE AS A HASHTAG IF YOU DO THE CHALLENGE SO EVERYONE CAN FIND THEM
please repost this over and over so we can get as many people involved as possible and try and make a difference in a couple people's lives because I just want to make everyone feel loved but I'm just one girl, I can't do it alone. Please help me with this and join me in the DEAR BLANK challenge. Take time out of your day to properly appreciate someone's poetry who you do not know.

PLEASE REPOST LET'S GET EVERYONE INVOLVED!!! ;D
THANKS!

-EMBER EVANESCENT
DEAR BLANK CHALLENGE
Jonathan Reid Apr 2018
Blank
By Jonathan Reid

Blank Autumn
Blank winds
Blank solemn bough bends
The wages have been lost
I’m going home
The leaves have scattered blades among the stones

Blank Winter
Blank snow
Blank bitter cocoa
The neighbors hang their colored filigree
Befuddled by the magic trinity

Blank water
Blank Spring
Blank color waves in
The flavor of the moment breeds a lack
A light inside the window culls the black

Blank Summer
Blank blues
Blank rumbling rain spews
Unable to control itself, blends
Intruding in the fabric of our ends
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
E-Emotion
Angry, E-book hunger
Tear diamond drop

      Join Me
@ The Body-book shop

The Gold bonds his book Hot Rods
She reads about the Angels and Gods

He covers her mind and book
with his lotion

Are we ready for the E-book
In tip-top condition motion
Someone is mysteriously trying to tell me something?

How the moon hangs low
The book made her eyes
Open to really know?

I phone to book she's the grab bag
I'm leaving on a Jetplane
One chosen E-Book
Was Scarlet love flame


How the book needs to grab you
The day you were born or reborn
Never to lose your sight
But why does he split your pages

In a hot rush* money wages

The heart is bleeding out words
Feeling so crushed the bookend
Energetic stare or the blank stare
Your enticing book
What happens underside me
The pages one-sided

You're the sweet of the complicated
getting bittersweet to be love mated


The sundae banana split
*My ring book marker my lovely curls


I couldn't share my book what it said
Do you really love me
The spinning wheel
Feminity of book so girly but
Love so dizzy

To be told overstocked to be sold
But someone loved it
Its been properly viewed
Buying and reselling hearts of
book timeshare

His workout
he loves his curls
Ebook he sees he memorized
all his European beauty
turning do you love her books madly
The beast  is inside Jekyll
Girls needed to hide but got
Hyde
The book seeing our life
From a blinded pageview
What's beside our words
We need to be upfront
Once in a million chances
The whole planet of funny books
beach house turned
Blank page
of a clown funhouse tree stalk

What is the point of view
Like an adult book raided
If you're the unadulterated
The innocents being naive
Wanting him so much
Whats the use it's like a
the blank page
Like your hairstyle
the sixties pageboy
You need book law and order
Like the Feng Shui book surrender
Be focused Graphically cool artist
And paint it colors no
gun it blanks no favors
My book place has the ambiance
Different mysteries
and suspense behaviors

Somehow it thickens
like "French" roue paste

You didn't want one
page to waste
E for the Exodus
A blank page is love minus
You're hitting a plateau
E- love of kiss-book
French Chateau
Ebook has a pattern the same thing
It repeats and devours your thoughts
The ancient Grecian her structural
form of statues
That rip page needed words to capture

The Clean-Slate page to restart
your flight
The prize
Emprise
Empire to the book hire
E-book desire
E-lust
It sets an example
we need to trust
Not to mislead your mind
Whats behind the book
Exhumed or to be doomed
Like Witchcraft magical hands

This wasn't the Godly land
The blank page had a spell
"The Burned Book" no one
will ever know
Can we take it back what was written inside
We need to restore give more (Cat and Mouse) chase

As my equal poison mind of sugar
Equally or naturally book gifted
Wrap silk ribbons or too much
the anxiety of red tape
Explosion of E=books
Elixir eyes to the Ebook doorway
But the blank pages were
still inside

E-book and the text
Whats next *** journalism
The kingdom of Elust
E-book became all excuses
Those blank tweets of
Hummingbirds
Like you got some
earwax all codes and emblems
My blank form income tax problems?

Storming damage to the max of my book

Hitting rock or book bottom
You're still living in a shape
of an eggcup

And reading by your nook
Your Ebook swish wish a nymph
floating mermaid

Things turn (Retro) just go
The book was the turn of events
More pages to heart mend

We are not experts or philosophers
Get inside the greener grass
like a grasshopper

Your lovely book a tranquil place
You were booked into your gown
But your ebooks is being
transported to other towns

Her heart was skipping his pages
She never got the chance to read
His chosen page
Life is so the open book
Eyes wide shut
E-book a cozy nook and where does it begin or end did I see some blank pages in between. I need a new for a taste for something on my speed I love to read it fascinated me every page but something stopped me to continue I wonder how long will this go on being fun and retro just go to the bookstore you may be pleasantly surprised of what you might see
Sayer May 2014
the kind of questions I get are about
death and shoving addiction in my face
I realize that you want peace like I do
(we feel the need to explain to you this predicament)
I laugh because I have to-
(we've got breaking news, Sir Blank Blank Blank has been killed)
what a shame
that one can leave so soon
'
this is the place where the living no longer live
the dead live more than they do
so I wait to find a way out but the doors are locked and
the sirens are going off
and the TV turned on by itself to bring me this important message:
(Sir Blank Blank Blank has been killed)
and I wrote a note for you and your charisma
it's on the table when you come into the house

isn't it special
and isn't nice
they're dropping bombs from the planes tonight

so let your red hair drop a little farther
and let my eye be fixated on the idea
that when you leave (for good)
that one day you'll come back
at my door and fall to the ground
begging and pleading for
me to realize that you loved me
more than I loved you
but it'll be too late because
by then I'll be gone
and I'll refuse to turn back on
I am an appliance
jenny May 2019
It's 2:30 A.M.
And my coming of "age" memories begin to
Float within oblivion.
Although I'm sure there's light somewhere...
one. like everyone else, i'm warmly welcomed, i think?
two. being ill didn't stop me from gaining enjoyment,
but i surely can't remember.
three. blank.
four. blank.
five. blank.
six. pinning the tail was worth the laugh.
seven. blank.
eight. blank.
nine. blank.
ten. blank.
eleven. blank but i'm sure that i was happy to leave the zeros on the scale.
twelve. blank.
thirteen. blank.
fourteen. exactly what a celebration for growth should feel like.
fifteen. seasick and unamused.
sixteen. blank.
seventeen. blank. maybe i ate or something.
eighteen. an unforgettable adventure.
nineteen. absolutely nothing.
twenty. hopped late onto a magical train.
thank you, my friend.
twenty-one. i wish it never happened
And it hasn't been long since then.
Let’s write on these blank walls
Let’s put color on these blank walls
I’m tired of these blank walls

Let’s fill this place with life
For now, it’s dead and desolate
For now, the walls are blank
For now, the room is blank
For now, this place is blank

Fill it words, color, and life
This blank place I cannot handle
This blank place will surely cause me to go

I’m insane so they say
I’m insane because I gave this place color, words, and life
I’m insane because I prefer my head than reality

Fill this place with words, color, and life
Watch it become the place you call home
Now this place is no longer blank, the walls are not blank, the room is not blank
I am not blank
Lacey Clark Nov 2018
I've lived somewhere between 25 & 30 homes.

The ones that stick out?

In Portland I rented a micro-studio. No individual unit kitchens: it was 'communal'. Bed came out the wall. Apt description: trendy, affluent, hipsters who want to live communally in theory, but eat out every day instead. Communal kitchen was empty. No one was ever home.

One house in Florida we had a pool and the neighborhood ice cream truck sold drugs. My neighbor took me to the mall sometimes.

In Wisconsin we lived above a bead shop that turned into a dress shop that rented out overpriced prom dresses to everyone. I watched middle-class flock to the shops beneath me. For being a town of 1,000 we had the coolest apartment because I could spy on the whole town and their frequent trips to the bakery.

In North Carolina we lived in a neighborhood called 'beverly hills' and the house was interesting, not very bourgeois as the neighborhood title suggested. I wanted to turn the basement into a gaming center for kids.

In Blank I lived in Blank, it was kind of Blank and I really liked the Blank. From this experience I learned Blank.
White Jul 2014
I am Blank,
Blank from Blank
Because I feel Blank,
Blank in my Blank,
Because of you,
You make me Blank
And for that,
I Blank you, you Blank!
BungeeGum May 29
There are crafts of countless drafts on this blank page,
accounts of my days of happiness or rage are on this blank page,
hinted goals and affirmations are blueprinted on this blank page,
look and you shall find that my mind roars it's thoughts unfiltered on this blank page,

Behold a story begins to unfold on this blank page.

Ink jives it's hips, thrives in it's own motions and clicks it's fingers in rhythm to the writers melody that lingers,
In order to transcribe what you're trying to describe to the mass of one or many on this blank page,

Sentences are redacted,
subtracted from the line of sight equating to something that now means nothing,

Why?

It could be a mistake,
a misfire of  the message I attempted to make,
thinking I had it locked and loaded,
Ready to shoot it across this blank page,

Or...

It could be that I find it unnecessary to reveal deep parts of me,

So...

I become hell bent on destroying any trace that may possibly leave my scent in this blank page,

The land of doodles,
far and wide is it's reach,
with the population consisting of ...
stick-mankind,
Talking poodles,
Confetti filled with noodles,

Whatever you can think of is there in this blank page.


On this blank page I stare deep into it's void and wonder....

What shall we do today ?
Francie Lynch Jan 2018
These verses filled the void;
Contributions from 'round the world;
From men and women, young and old;
Creating something out of nothing.
A prosaic mosaic, a collaboration,
From HP poets, a celebration.

A blank line
Awaits my thoughts
A blank line
It’s an invitation
A blank line
Patiently empty
A blank line
It calls on creativity
A blank line
[sic writerunblocked]

To comment on this I cannot resist
The daily poem takes a new twist
At the top slot a poem that's not
A poem that doesn't exist
[sic. Martin]

For the life of me -
I cannot think the words -
refilling blanks, and slots -
not coming across, absurd -
at least, not in, so many, words
[sic Temporal Fugue]

Farts are nothing,
but previews for ****,
just like most
Movie
trailers
at
the
theatre.
[sic Hasani]

Please fill in is the Story of My Life The Invisible lines the Unseen pain I walk among the crowds but I am not there all they see is a shell when the truth of myself is withdrawn deep inside lost between the invisible lines [sic James M. Vines]

When at 12 midnight
And my heart beats a certain pace
I finally turn off the lights
As tears stream down my face
[sic jace]

the vacuum
Empty yourself of
From...
What u retain
What u contain
What u detain
What u abstain

Draw the lines of...
Your Boundary
Your territory
Your trajectory
Your sanctuary

You....
Draw your lines of action
Define your confinement
Create your vaccum

And now....
The love flows in
The bliss moves in
The happiness gushes in
[Jugnu-the-firefly]

THESE underscores from a your keyboard--
Bored-as-hell I can see
The creative act has been forced-in
This outsourced work, taking our
Outsourced words, during work-hours
[sic Sean Murray]

Lines
Lines Blank call
like void of creation to birth.
They grab my attention
luring poet mind
to commence firing away.
It fires in blasts of gratitude,
jarring empty spaces of thoughts
Phases that have no connections
until pen touches paper
or fingers touch keyboard.
Until I shout out to another writer
named Francie who inspired
to fill the void.
[sic Star BG]

i would have described my frustrations
what i expect from u
but i decide to keep my lips shut
its not what it seems
sometimes my lips cant depict my problems........
[sic Gucco]

It's a new year, yet are we, new people
although many others have been extinguished,
my star still shines and twinkles (although not as valiantly)
and so does yours
and I pray that it may twinkle,
for the longest time indeed.
[sic sincere humble cowardly Song]

Words can be over-rated,
its the blank page that often inspires,
images tumbling over themselves,
waiting to be scribed by word-squires.
[sic Pagan Paul]

Like this goose of a poem I'm holdin'
The deliberate silence of this is golden

Now don't be cheap
and don't be crass

hold your words until the last
without donkey ears your still being an a...
[sic Green Trees]

The symmetry of her eyes collapsed into the void............
....sixteen teardrops spilled on the morning sky............
............Colorless and absurd............................
............the sunrise misplaces past happiness............
Future was you
[sic Kyte]

Your poem is good but mine is better
You should feel the poem, writing doesn't matter
[sic Daman Singh]

I do nothing
Others do it for me
[sic Dennis Faulk]

To all the confusing things that roam my head and heart that I cannot read what it’s actually telling me. [sic Sara]

The eyes sees genuineness that mind yearns
The heart feels what it needs to learn,
Yet all is but God's ultimate plan!
Life amidst it's hustsles goes on and on.
[sic Saumya]

Broken Chains
Free me,break these chains of *******
Chains that bound and confine me to rules
Shackles that control me against my will
Fetters that make me submit to emotions
Irons that make me less humane,free me
Till all that's left are broken chains.
[sic Abi]

Feelings so fierce as they swarm inside
No escape as theyey spin and spin
I try to open a door
To let them out
At last, the page is blank
[sic Lin]

light for sure
shy of ardor
less is more
why try harder?
[Ian Woods]

And thus the blankness left,
And the void was filled.
Just in case you don't know what "sic" means, it's just a short way of saying I've copied and pasted exactly what was added in the comments section of the original, "The Invisible Poem: Blank Verse."
Special thanks to all the above contributors. I apologize for not asking permission to repost your verses. Any poet wishing me to delete his or her contribution can contact me to do so. But why?
Tracie Bulkley Nov 2013
There's this blank page in front of me
And I'm supposed to fill it up with words
Thing is, the emptiness of the page doesn't inspire me
It frightens and intimidates me
*******, blank page,
Fill yourself up with angry words
And god-awful sentiments
I don't have time
I got too much of too little inside my gut
To fill you up like an empty ****
Just like me, yeah
Ain't you just like me
Another empty **** on a blank page
Having to apologize and cry your eyes out
For the one and only person who you showed yourself to
One and only who touched you
And held your naked soul against his
The only one who dared to fill you
Like I fill you now
That ******* who had the gall
Yours loved and left you
But I was the leaver
But that ******* had the nerve
To try and ******* me as I left
And I knew I KNEW
Knew it wasn't right
Knew you couldn't be the one to hold me all night
With all of your anger
Your lack of sympathy and empathy
And human compassion
You were sweet just for me
But you'd watch the world burn
Just to satisfy your moral pride
And self-righteous concern
So go on and wonder why I left you
And I'll try to change myself
Yeah, just a couple of *****
Making love on blank pages
There's somebody here worth changing my life for
Worth the infamy and destruction of telling
Telling the world about the **** on blank pages
But words are thick
Melted glass that stumbles and slips and tumbles
Crumbling all over the ground
It echoes the sound of my own voice
Accusing myself for making my own choice
For choosing the wrong
The bitter for sweet
But who are these people to tell me to beat it
Why should you decide my worthiness
Or the sincerity of my penance
****** why do YOU get to send me away
When I've already got Hell to pay
Just to the ******* who I left in Hell
And the angel who's trying so hard to save me from myself
******* bishop, cardinal, preacher, God and law
You're all just a bunch of blank pages
Empty ***** of all ages.
Just let me live
Let me die
On the back of this blank page
Let no one turn over
And no one will be shamed.
Amitav Radiance May 2014
A blank canvas, inspires a painter
A blank paper, inspires a poet
From a blank we can draw inspiration
They are not blank, but an empty space
Untouched with the creative juices
To be filled with different moods of hues
And written on, with the most fertile thought
From a blank, we can draw a conclusion
Inspired to come up with most enchanted sketches
As artistry is the masterstroke, drawn on a blank
An abstract idea sketched, to inspire*





© Amitav (Radiance)
lillie Mar 2015
My imagination always running
Yet can never be put on paper
Where have my ideas gone?
Where has my inspiration disappeared?
It feels like my mind is just a static
Quiet, awkward, eerie
I can grab a pen
Yet I can never write down the words that I want
I am not an artist
Nor am I a person to even write down this poem
What does one look for in a work of art anyway?

Am I just putting myself down?
Or am I just really not meant to be a writer?
My blank mind
My blank papers
Scattered
All over
My bedroom
My trash is, piling up with drafts
Scribble, scribble
Then throw
What a waste, what am I doing?
Should I still use this talent of mine?
Or do I just think that it's a talent?

I feel like 'The Thinker'
Always indecisive
Always hesitant
Always...thinking
Never...doing
I look at the people around me
And see that they are better than me
My world slowly turning black and white
Like the color of the music sheet and piano keys
Yet, why do I always bring myself down?
I will never know the answer of my very own question

I'm still here
Thinking, thinking, thinking
I want an idea to hit me like a storm
Yet my brain doesn't seem to work
A static it truly is, my brain
In my bedroom you will see
My blank mind yet full of imagination
Scattered along with blank papers
Owen Carter Dec 2016
A blank sheet, full of potential,
so much beauty lies within.

A blank mind, calming the soul,
Though it doesn't feel right.

A blank day, full of nothing,
At least it feels like nothing.

A blank life, full of despair,
It all just seems blank.

Nothing.
Nothing is there.
Just a blank face
In a blank world.
Karina B Nov 2014
Dear Blank,
I left your name blank because I don't know who you are,
or where you are.
Are you near, or are you far?

Dear Blank,
Sometimes I wonder if I truly need you,
Or if I'm better off on my own.
But I am scared: will you lift me up or hold me down?

Dear Blank,
Will I ever find you? Are you really there?
Or are you just a memory, and idea, a question--
A question, with no answer, or confession.

Dear Blank,
If I search, will I find you?
I would call out for you, but I don't know your name,
And all I see surrounding me is more of the same.

Dear Blank,*
Are you really there?
I was inspired by the Dear Blank challenge which is going on right now. This isn't following the guidelines of writing it to another Hello Poetry member, which is why I didn't submit it as part of the challenge, but it is similar.
EmilyDidero Apr 2014
Pale blank faces all scattered around
Pale blank faces can make the ugliest sound

Your pale blank face wasn't pale at all
See, your pale blank face made me fall

Your eyes showed the judgement of a 4 year old kid
Honest but sweet
Your smile was big so charismatic,
I could run off this world and you'd be one to believe this was real tragic

Your eyes and that smile are all that keep me here,
Because honest but sweet isn't much of a fear

And that big charismatic smile is all I can see
My eyes closed in the dark but smiling for I'm lucky to breath
Mischa Ledder Nov 2015
Apathy
A soul as blank as these pages before ink creates words
Apathy
A soul as blank as these pages after ink creates words
And words create books
A soul as blank as these pages fading in the sunlight
As these stories and therefore their meaning dwindle to be seen
A blank soul because these flaunted words
Are just a foolish attempt to cover up insecurities
Producing meaning of any kind to ease the weight of a heavy soul
Inside dying
While all along trying to fool the mind into thinking it is fine
A blank soul caused by gentle justifications of sin
That built a castle of sand for my darkened pride to stand upon
Apathy

I dont want to fall away
But faith continually swings between the extremes
Faith and doubt has me drowning in blood not my own
Causing pride to be pulled back into the oceans tide
But that age old vice scrambles to collect the sand
As it falls helplessly through the cracks of my hands
Screaming to let death pour fourth a flood of lies
As apathy dances saying, "let it stay"
And hands try to grasp a past dead to the present

I don't want to fall away
But a heavy darkened soul is all I have called home
A soul as blank as these pages after ink creates words
Because obedience is costly stripping the composition bear
A soul as blank as these pages after ink creates words
Because  the castle's built on weak foundations in the sand
Have crumbled beneath the pressure of the tide
Apathy forgive me I mistook you for the new man I know not yet
Andy Hunter Oct 2016
6 happy songs

1. Oui hear
What we appear
What, we appear?
What
Where

Capturing the in
The expressable in it
Capped in it
In
Into

Together to gather
To Get Her - To Gat Her
Two Gets-together
Gether
Glather

Troubling isn't it
Very troubling
Trouble some
Some troubles in ning
Inklings
Inner rings

Der Rinks
Der

2. Vert
Over therr
Overt therr
Knew a woman who was livin
Oh Vert Herr!

Oh Vert Herr!
Over therr
Err a woman who is livin
Oh Vert therr!
Err
Err

3. Bleu
A cloud farmer
I eye the sky
Eye the sky
Eye the sky
A cloud farmer
I eye the skye
Eye the sky
Wide

4. Blanc
Here is the blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blank
Here is the blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blanking blank
Blank


5. Rouge
They come to me in ones and twos
Ones and twos
Ones and twos
They come to me in
Ones and twos
Ones and twos it's
True


6. Noir
Brush away noir noir
Brush away noir
Brush away noir noir
Noir noir no
More No more
Noir noir no
Moe
761

From Blank to Blank—
A Threadless Way
I pushed Mechanic feet—
To stop—or perish—or advance—
Alike indifferent—

If end I gained
It ends beyond
Indefinite disclosed—
I shut my eyes—and groped as well
’Twas lighter—to be Blind—
Simon Clark Aug 2012
Take a drink,
Stare up high,
Give a wink,
Wave goodbye.

My mind goes blank,
My heart goes slow,
My soul turns bare,
my life turns off.

Take a pill,
See it fade,
Aim to feel,
Hell is made.

Trip over,
All my lies,
To cover,
My strength flies.

My love gets lost,
My dream gets scared,
My song is soft,
My page is blank.

I go blank,
I go blank,
I go blank,
I go blank.

Blankness in the blanket,
Blankness in the bleakness,
Blankness in the boredom,
Blankness in the background,
Blankness in the brashness.
written 2004
Jess Feb 2013
(Words were given to me by classmates:
A  Vivid
B  Incredible
C  Rapid
D  Blank
E  Indubitably
F  Over)

The sight so vivid,
the feeling is incredible.
Thumping, thrashing, moshing; rapid.
All adrenaline, minds are blank.
All will have stories to tell, indubitably.
Time stops; never ending, never over.

Guitarist flicks his pick over
our heads; strobe lights so vivid.
People injure for that pick, indubitably.
Though to catch it would be incredible.
Chaos for a piece of plastic that's blank.
The crowd's desperation; movements are rapid.

Heavy metal; headbanging rapid.
Vortex as they swing their heads over.
Some are dizzy; expressions blank.
Light reflects of swishing hair; movements are vivid.
How the band maintains the rhythm is incredible.
Long night for everyone, indubitably.

The chaos will never end, indubitably.
People still moshing, everything is rapid.
Being in the center; scary and incredible.
I hope this will never be over.
Lights flashing, making everything vivid.
Flashing and thrashing; nothing is blank.

Begin a new song, backdrop is blank.
Something awesome, indubitably.
New song starts, loud and vivid.
Musicians play more rapid.
No one wants it to be over.
Lyrics speak, it's incredible.

This night is incredible!
No thoughts form, my mind is blank.
But dreadfully, it is over.
Traffic out is awful, indubitably.
My heart is still beating so rapid.
The memories are oh, so vivid.

I wish it wasn't over, the lights were so vivid!
My energy is blank, but my mind is still rapid.
The show was incredible; I'll go again, indubitably.
there would be blank canvasses
empty words
silently echoing the pages of poems not written
of narrative never revealed
from muses overwhelming
spirits overflowing
onto sugar coated melodies
woven into lyrics that
pester and harass and permeate the sacred space of minds

there would be blank canvasses
empty words
of delicate curves or hips, wide like sandy beaches
immortalized  by brush strokes or camera shutters
empty panels of superhero legends forgotten

there would be blank canvasses, empty words
of no church praises hollered over holy rollin piano riffs

but most definitely, most importantly,
there would be blank canvasses, empty words
and
hands that never itched
to craft golden scrolls onto the haggard loose leaves
residing in sharpie stained notebooks
and great wisdoms never told which ****** great minds
moves great minds
with melodious lyricism
which haunts souls
taunts souls
with the burning questions of shoes and ships and ceiling wax

there would be pens never emptied dry
cultivating piles of paper ***** with half *** rhymes, rhythms, and washed up metaphors
muses would never possess individuals
sleeplessly seeking to fill up forests worth of leaves
after suffering from the doldrums of writers block

blank canvasses, empty words
in a world without art
Molly Mar 2014
A blank page.
But is a blank page really  a blank page?
Every blank,empty,white page has a story.
Where.
When.
Why it was made.

I am a blank page.
I was made.
I was formed, slipped, scored, hit, slapped into the person I am today.
I have roots as my veins connecting  my whole longevity into its self.

Together we are all blank pages.
Rips in our foundations.
Flaws in our purity of white.
Red and Blue lines on our bodies.

We can erase the words, but they never fully fade.
The paper stays.
It may not be whole.
It's not perfect.
But we all have stories.

We are all a stack of paper.
You can chose your length of writing.
Your story will be biting.

Or your story will be done.
Or your story will be none.
He looked fine. Fine with a y. Fyyyyne
However another guy had the best style, he could mismatch and make it fit.
Then again no man had abs like him, it was a canvas I longed to....
I will never forget the other guys eyes, his hazel eyes spoke to me.
How couldn't I mention the manly stance, broad shoulders, large hands man.
But honestly, I never saw beauty till I met blank.
Blank is kind, the kind that gives and expects nothing, for he
simply wants to see joy in me.
Blank is confident in himself, in a way that needs to prove nothing because he humble by nature
Blank is rational yet irrational in a way that strives and hopes.
Blank is funny, uplifting, ****.
Blank teaches me about myself, he makes me better.
I've never seen one as beautiful internally, which it illuminates externally.
Hopefully I meet blank.
_, I love you.
Shayne Campbell Oct 2014
Blank is the only thought known in the mind's velocity
Blank is the motive for the one to unleash atrocity
Blank becomes the heart as it encases no pain nor joy
Blank merely senses no rudiment in good or evil's ploy
Blank removes the face far from emotion's function
Blank contributes part in the psychotic conjunction
Blank of colour has it not, neither has it not everything
Blank is the incubator of pure evil for its purpose is nothing


Dark has claimed lordship over the temple of God
Dark shall only not grant the self but others the trod
Dark is the illness for which not shall it cease
Dark is the standing bear to the prey upon release
Dark gives the sun's casket at the funeral the seal
Dark senses no illusion in pursuit of what is real
Dark is the siren's song of tempting desire
Dark is the fuel of persuasion to the raging hellfire


Monster has the person become from a transformation much gruesome
In comparison to the lycanthrope's curse from a life so glum
Silence does the killer perform the wait for this moonrise
Wolf does not in he result but psychosis shall evoke demise
Hell is the starting gate for the devil to begin his race on earth
Slaughtered shall be anyone until achieved is the end's worth
Light will not the butcher dwell in for his blade of razor to land
Lightless will the assassin delay in for the lust of death by hand  


Cannot you outrun the follower, ceaselessly he follows
Subject you are to this doctor's experiment of gallows
Shadow does for you he wait in for the death strike
Watcher will he portray such a role in his image alike
Closet shall you beware for the demon's haunt it has become
Drains are elsewhere he shall stay for they are fear to some
The primary sense is vision for it has the ability to identify
Application of the sense does it most suit the villain to mortify
The possessed blade is as sharp as the pain to cause the victim's cries
For such an action does pleasure be ensured for the blackest eyes
Malak S Jun 2017
She's a melody I can no longer seem to shake
My mind replays her words over and over again
And all I want is some peace of mind.
How do you get rid of a person's memories who, the only thing they've left you with is a void?
I ask myself that question multiple of times a day, but I'm always left with blanks
Blank thoughts,
Blank spaces,
Blank answers,
Blank. Blank. Blank.
Not my best writing but I feel blank and it fit  well
Free Oct 2013
My demons can't find me
If there are no clues as to who I am.
I'll leave the canvas blank.
Because I'm so through with everyone who chased me thoughts around in my head,
Making me feel guilty,
And sore,
And overall frustrated.
Blank slate
For my emotions to grip to.
Yes,
I'll leave this canvas blank,
The blank canvas of my soul.
Lucas Richardson Jul 2015
A blank mind harbors more than one thought
A blank mind teaches those who need taught
A blank mind battles when you've but all fought
A blank mind preaches those who think not.

Now young one, I ask you; is your mind blank?
Is your mind open to all you can thank,
like a blank piece of paper subject to think tanks,
or has your very own thought submarine sank?
02/28/13 and 03/03/13
Natalie Neo Apr 2015
You are like a blank page.

One without any past,
Without any dust.

One I get to fill,
With everything I feel.

You are like a blank page.

I am afraid to touch
I am afraid to hold
I am afraid I won’t let go.

You are like a blank page.

I can stain with blots,
Chain you with locks.

I can stab you with pain,
Make you go insane.

You are like a blank page.

I will try my best to ease
I will try my best to kiss
I will try my best so this love won’t cease.

You are my blank page.
Annie Quill May 2014
A blank page is opportunity,

Endless possibilities and freedom of expression,

Words waiting behind a pen,

Waiting to be put down,

A blank page is freedom,

Freedom of the mind,

Freedom of the hand,

A blank page is a story,

Untold and new,

Real and unbridled,

A blank page is hope,

For a girl trying to make her way in a scary chaotic world,

A blank page is a friend,

For a new fledged writer or an old hand at the art,

Always patient,

Always waiting,

A blank page is many things,

And all of them untold.
Tana Young Jul 2013
Doesn't anyone want a moment of silence, nothing but a blank page to hide in.
To hear nothing, not even your own breath.
To see chaos, but not hear it.
Stay locked.
Let your mind soar into oblivion.
A blank page.
For you to ***** up,
throw away.
To start over.
A blank page like this once was.
Poetry you are my blank page.

Blank page.
Find it.
17th Jun 2014
blank pages are nothing
blank pages could be everything
blank pages are being destroyed
user for horrible thoughts
used for distance
asking to be burned
asking to be destroyed
by the hand of the stupid
living for ages
used by the greatest minds
the most creative humans
blank pages are used for art
blank pages are meant to show you
that something empty
can be completely powerful
Elysian Dreams Dec 2016
So here I am writing without really knowing what to say
Letting it all flow, whatever is here. Blank space, blank mind.
Oh wait, it is filling up again. Fill up O' mind, fill so I can write and express.
I have no idea what I am doing, why am i doing this?
Writing and writing without much purpose, or is there a purpose?
Reading over previous sentences not even recognising the author
It's me! I am the author.
Is this even poetry? What is poetry? Who are poets? What classifies a poet? Aren't we all poets?
Some poets in motion, some poets in emotion. Nature is poetry right? Surely.
And here we go again. I got a blank mind, again... Still blank..... But is it really blank? If I am recognising that it is blank, then is it truly blank? Who is this person commenting on the blankness? It's still me.....
Jonny Rulon Nov 2012
hes skipping the blank parts.
fire spewed speaking out his eye and everything.

swear it lets the silence in.
to ***** midmorning naught but bile

and tar from your lung, sour taste on tongue 'and charred resinous lips and cankers in mouth.

skipping the blank parts.
this is too much to put in words it pains darling like mouth is faucet ears are ringing sight is grey and unwholesome nerves are sweaty like wrists and jaws too. heart thick heavy beating like a ******* palms and brow sweaty

a new nightmare never sleep gone delirious ever after think only of the thee and the thine and what can i do to make it stop naught but drink for ever after.

early sunday is the worst day. days are ever after cursed is sunday and the bad day, was always was it leads to monday and the no sleep and you go to school or work and they all know you are so tired

so id rather skip the blank parts and spend in blankets cold and clutching to this bottle ever afer like a baby cuz its nicer when its blank here.

------------

so now its the dawn gray, the child breathes in all the nerves of the surrounding block and breathes in.

what thoughts there darling stir that tattered man of child man of scattered breaths and
and of least action least least resistance

night smokes away in his lungs.

his sight unsteady and grey, **** the stars.

his head holds the stars as he passes away.

he thinks, "I dont wanna be astounding, I dont wanna be anything, the dreams, i smoke the night away...why wont they listen?"

the yammering outside his windows

he clutch the sill, needs for balance and hes sweating thinks the week back in his memory. did something dumb but he skips the blank parts like a movie but its not his cellophane life its becoming more like that he thinks

-------------

the cats outside his window yammering outside his window

"headache man and the sunup surprise" he thinks, garlictongued and glittering of sweat.
something strange here something dumb something wicked.
like melodica, im disturbed in step

hitched his pants hitched breathing summer sweet midsummer nightmare is the thirst and drink.

"and somehow it helps" he thinks, head droning like the bees they are buzzing out his window, but screech in speak like the crickets

the air might ripe and seethe.

he can barely breathe.

the scarlet cheeked is he and fairly farther from himself than usual, laid away in pace and time and people, all else arrested. the vines now they crawl along his sill on which he clutches ever after pick the roses from his cheek.



and so he often thinks of it, and his peers think its selfish, but he pronounces himself in such ways as to make it pronounced that he is thinking of this.
and they give him no consideration, no pause or gaze to entitle him to a moment's breath of doubt,
that he is most gnawingly alone.

they gather no cinema, no accord, no intervention. they simply do not comment upon his lost thoughts. and this no comment, for him it seems, gives him validation for his, heretofore mentioned, but heretofore implied, unmitigated and (some may say) uncalled for unarrival.

there are no senates in the state of human. only the mindnumbing pain that is his sour being, upon which he has coerced the subject upon the senate to be impressed:
that he is waiting for the right moment, to be impressed.

to be enough to take himself.

it is not pity, but such a bitter impulse.
that brings him to himself, to take.

------------

and as father of all pronouncements, the species of newspaper blaired...
"the king is dead, long live the king."
so of which he was reading, was par for the course.
he sat down with his wife, and his son, and he spoke to them gracefully in his normal fathers and mothersfamily whisper, he said:

"this is the time when we must eat our cereal, and be well-versed in our gods, and our gaols. and we must believe in the powers that be. for they have told us no lies and will tell us no lies. and if it not so, then this paper begs the difference.
this paper...pulp...and felt, and gold, and ink. will never speak of us naught.
and for what they proclaim to us, the masses, is written in ink,

and thus, so stone.

so believe."

so god ate his wheaties that day.

------

and so i rant and so i speak in illogicals and i so im biased i know.
this is what it takes to be a journal and to filter all the bad ***** things that are black out of the poets mind.

so blame it on cadence, blame it on speak, blame it on linguistics, blame it on my upraising, blame it on an apathetic attitude,

i dont care, just blame it.

just it is my mood and it will not be forgotten, it is me that is scribing this sentence, so it is not forgotten, on the fence and bethrothed to many ideals hence so i be,

i am not an idiot.
i am no coward.
i am not a leech, nor am i a parasite, nor i am a murderer, nor am i criminal.

i sit still still with moles burrowing their burrs into the underground, waiting for the tunnel, and so, the light.
L Apr 2015
There is struggle in every beginning.
What to write in these blank pages?

We get stuck in every white space we see
We stop in every blank space
We stare
We try to start

Words don't come easy

We struggle for ideas
We fumble for words

The thought process stops.

Catharsis.

The ideas flood our brains
The ideas pour
The brain leaks of ideas
But we struggle for structure

For there is none in these blank pages, white spaces
There is none.

We try to achieve form and flow
But there are none
All we have are fragments
of thoughts
of words

It's a stacatto of ideas.

Without rhythm
Without melody
Without harmony
For there are none in these blank pages
There are none in these white spaces

The words
are just lines
are just dots
are just strokes
that will never make sense

In these white spaces
In these blank pages

This beautiful mess.
Yvonne Nice Apr 2019
I am just blank
My mind, body, and soul, if one exists
I am just blank
And an untouched piece of paper
I am just blank
Why do I feel this way?
I  am just blank
As a new whiteboard
I am just blank
Who am I if I cannot identify myself as a being?
I am just blank
Observe my crudely configured words and do with them what you please
Caitlin Jul 2014
I stare at the blank page in front of me.
Thoughts flee my mind,
The moment I need them.

I stare at the blank page.
Willing it to give me some idea,
Some clue as to why I am writing.

I stare at the blank page.
I stare at it, blank, lifeless and
Incomplete without ink running down its page.

I stare at the empty, white page.
It's powerless without, me, it's writer.
Utterly and completely

I stare at the blank page.
My power flows through my pen
And onto the paper.

I have completed
A masterpiece.

— The End —