Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Renée Aug 2018
Why does my mind play these games.
Now I don’t know where my heart aims.
It has a mind of its own.
It makes me feel like a stone.
I can’t control myself anymore.
It makes living such a chore.
These feelings rush through me like a drug.
They make me really want a hug.
I just want to go back home.
To the life I’ve always known.
I want to stay in my warm bed.
And know that this part of me is dead.

Can you really choose your feelings?
Because I can’t stop thinking about our dealings.
My feelings always just happen without force.
I wish I knew the source.
I’ve never forced them to become.
I just seal them up tight as a drum.

I ignore them with all my might.
To where my brain and heart are always in a fight.
But they won’t ever come to light.
And I don’t know if they will come back to bite.
But until then I’ll cry them out at night.
CK Baker Mar 2017
fischers rap
on a hot tin roof
bristol creek pools
over rock and seed
english wolfhound (and the barkbuster)
stroll pine lane
vibrant colors
of a cool spring
in cob yellow and
forest green

field mice squander
in cotton wind
goats and ferret
hold seven hour trim
raven and ****
meddle and forage (on a splendid fiaker goulash!)
crickets and frogs
hidden
in swollen grey logs

creepers fill the
cut stone walls
coy wolf high
on a frayed white rope
eagles perched
at trudy’s bend
catamounts laze
on a snow base cedar
(pared arbutus bent  
through a failed ground rock)

brush spider spins
a timely web
brown bears fumble
at the spirit jamboree
quizzical squirrels
***** their nuts
as pillow clouds float
over telegraph trail

12 point dances
on talus and scree
hen hawks float
in a big hard sun
clydesdale and coach
trot copper smith road
(glancing down
on finch and the warbler
whistling through
colander row)

lavender fills
the peat soil box
mountain cats
guard the heavenly gates
black eyed ridge
is wide and open
the country squire hails
this fruitful land
writerReader Feb 2015
i am watching life and
it's running so fast and

it goes up toward the
pure white stars and
the brown dirt

the blue sky

the black night

but i'm melting
burning
freezing

my mind is too tired to sleep
but it's too drunk to run.
Blake Aug 2018
Long wavy brown hair
Freckles against otherwise creamy smooth skin
Long eyelashes and dark brown puppy eyes
Loud laughter and big smiles
Confidence boosting and adventure inducing
Long summer nights filled with new experiences
Long talks about things that hurt
Longer talk about things that don’t
Fun and mischief laced into every step
Every heartbeat being worth it
Absolutely breathtakingly perfection
Everything I’ve ever wanted
And for a while
I’ve finally got it
And you make everything so extraordinary
She’s everything I’ve ever loved in people put into one crazy chaotic beautiful mess. And I loved every bit of her
CK Baker Apr 2017
Sunday sermons are spilling on the inner city streets
through the green heaps and brown bags
through the downtown whisperers
and sage solitude souls

Army bands prepare for march
their trench members filling packs with canister and cane
the high command and tricked militia head pinned
quick on the look for splinter, lorry and skuttle

Traffic patterns change at the COP connect
camouflage bearers break formal stride
battle men slip between colorful floats
unsuspecting slumlords (vein pricked and weary)
grin in their second suite dying rooms

Twitching men and rubbernecks
sit discreetly on the corner wall
JJ and the chief revere a 21 gun salute
holy rollers raise cheer (in a moment of silence)
chess men hold steady
with ivory cues

Flames belt from the distant foundry
streets come alive with crackle and dust
members of the attic group glance down from a glorified perch
the elderly man in a straight jacket (happy in the now)
sits solemnly in a cold reflective stare

It’s not far from the steely mud holes
from the flying fragments and pierced broken dreams
from the arsenal digs and madmen (who quietly turned the *****)
the ivy trellis
and flowing white gown
is a nocturne fit
for this elevated rolling highland
CeilingStar Jul 2018
I am Autumns baby

my bones align every Autumn season
I come alive, rising from the earthy soil
I'm Summers poison,
my blood all hazey sunsets and leaf mulch

It's just something about the way the dawn and dusk shaded leaves flutter delicately onto my bronze barked skin
and the way the forest breathes, shedding it's summer shroud of green, canopy now thin
anticipating the snarling undertow of winters frosty bite
how the branches twist their arms and fingers,
reaching up to the light,
sky as blue as my doe eyes

the sunsets are all for me, low and piercing,
using her fiery fingers to ****** my face
I dance ***** with the birds, the trees and the sun, a blur of grace

I'm all variations of brown, with the occasional pop of green
my lungs house my earth and its flower children, in my rib cage built of twigs with a magic sheen
my hair cascades like a molten copper mess
I'm a reflection in a lake, beautiful crystal but a construct you cannot caress

luke warm, barren branches and burning peat
crows, shimmering sunsets and crunchy leaves under your feet

I am Autumns darling

KG
Its something about the earthy air, I feel it deep in my bones
Brooke White Nov 2017
I’ve never dated a girl with green eyes
My girls always had brown
I like the mystery in not knowing where exactly
the pupil stands against the pigment
Philipp K J Dec 2018
The hot boiled rice
With brown gram curry
The nutty smell of sesame
Oil shrills in hurry
Deployed on a thrice
larger rounder plate
For a boy's belly deplete.
"Can't eat this much rice!"
He shouts with a surprise.

“You can do my son sure.",
Her firm voice enssures
The boys look measures.
"The remainder you keep aside"
Her remand saves  his pride.

A monthly forty rupees
Should not be pretty reason
For a lodger's liberty to please
Among two of her teen sons
Than a welling spring of kindness
A heart huge in roundness
Larger than a stainless steel plate
With a profuse heap of hot rice
The smooth boiled brown pies
Oiled with fragrance fleet.

For how he fully did feat it?
How she purely predict it?
The stomach of a young one could hold
The heap of love on a stainless steel mold.
Tanay Sengupta Sep 2018
Welcome to the dystopian town.
No sign of life anymore
The houses are red and the air is brown.

No monarch to rule with a crown.
You will find bodies lying near every door
Welcome to the dystopian town.

You are allowed to frown.
But there is no one alive to blame anymore
The houses are red and the air is brown.

You can try making your way to downtown.
But, there is nothing left worth going there for
Welcome to the dystopian town.

You will see more bodies with their faces down.
While inside you will feel broken, numb and sore
The houses are red and the air is brown.

The sky is dark grey and brown.
Hope is not an option anymore
Welcome to the dystopian town.
The houses are red and the air is brown.










Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved
What do you think this poem is about? I leave this one to you. Happy reading!
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2018
In an instance,
I felt a calmness sweep across my body.
My body free of any restriction.
Her being my release.
Sweet liberties
Utilized by the touch of lips.
A period punctuated by perched lips.
Released in ounces of color.
The way she loved.
My tongue swirled around hers.
Fingers wrapped around her waist.
Brown peach flavored skin.
My addiction a place for her to stay,
Her bag broken down; piece by piece.
A home away from home.
Until the day she left.
I consulted family, I reached out to friends.
They say that she's no good
They say leave her be.
Truth be told
My vacancy left colorless.
Bland.
My tree grown fruitless
Revealed to me in bitter hunger.
The realization of perception.
Nothing left to fill my hands.
This vacancy punishable by death.
A ****** filled by her alone.
My fingers around her waist.
Her love sticky, sweet.
Swirling around my tongue.
My eyes left low
Anticipating her return.
They say that she's no good
They say leave her be.
Truth be told
I haven't spoken to them since
almat011 Feb 18
Captivating honey caramel is like a shining dawn, life with you is like a sweet ****** dream. Juicy sweet fabulous fantasy beautiful. From your sexuality, the glasses of the captured ****** force in your eyes are sweating, this is the amazing magic of charm concealed in them. You are my depraved temptation ***** temptation. The sweet temptation of a tenderly roaring passion is a breathtaking juicy caramel berry, sometimes pouring with a picturesque modulation, tender sensual shades of red sunset, incinerated with the burning heat of passion. From your hottest, sultry beauty, the brain seems to turn off and faint from your sweetest kisses.

Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
WA West Sep 2018
I really want a doughnut,
i think,
but where do i get one? I am vegan and in Belgium.
They are not widely available,
When I dance in my kitchen thinking of doughnuts
I am the spirit of James Brown
Well not really, he was way cooler.
Additionally, I am 6 foot 5 inches
White and have two flat feet.
I can speak Dutch though and James Brown couldn't
my kitchen surfaces are sparkling and I am possibly high off the cleaning product fumes.
Provided the manufacturer hasn't removed them for safety purposes
I really do want a doughnut.
Now, not tomorrow,
Life is short, give me the sugar,
I wonder if James Brown sometimes got strong sweet food cravings.
Could probably check google and find out,
but some things are best left unknown.
Ilion gray Aug 2018
The people
Are going anywhere
where they will wait,
Where the aluminum tops of pop
Bottles crash to earth
Releasing one last
Tiiiiinngg!!!((())))))
A kind of
Musical note...
A single sound through the corridors
Of order-
Watching the wind tease the trees/
Like the fastest boy
On the block,
Subtly walking
Over scattered grey
loose gravel
In the parking lot
Of the park,
Running his
Tiny ***** fingers,
Through
The other boys heads
Dusty and
Stagnant,
Filthy with earth and
Hours,
their
Blood black and  smoldering
Beneath a ceiling of skin,
Every pore
Like a window
Open
Waiting for the
One who knows,
To pass by,
All of them
Believing they
Were chosen.
"duck"
    "DUck"
              .........."DUCK
"GOOSE!!!­"

I watch the wind tease the leaves of trees-
Just this way,
At play,
Aloof
To the price of days,
Each one,
Their own.
Yet, both
The tree
And the child
Are Subtly dying,
Whilst also
climbing,
Closer to the
The sky,
Those ageless eyes
watch
their tiny fingers
stretched high
Reaching beneath
The ribs of wind,
the deepest end
Of the Seas of mid-heaven,
Into the sacred
Waves of secrets
everlasting,
Where
God taught his only
Son to swim.

I also watched,
as the wind teased
The trees that held the leaves-
Each decaying
As they rise
They bend forward like,
golden fields of days
Like sun-beaten blades of grass,
Their giant broken bodies
Like stones
So still,
That at times,
unfortunate seconds
Drifting past
Quietly,
wander
Too long
In the sadness,
Then crash
Violently,
In the silence.

If you ask some of the
people,
They will say
"We are going everywhere,
And yet we have found nothing-
Nothing/
While we wait-"

I have watched the wind tease
Everything,
All that I can hold in my eyes,
There
Where there is life everlasting-
Fingerprints,
Left after
the years wrapped it's hands
Around my neck squeezing
Till my skin began
To die and wither,
Like a brown trout
Tired, and weary
Floating way too
Close to the bank
As the edge of March,
Eat the last days of winter,
Now the evenings
Fall like ash,
Slowly arriving,
Hovering,
Softly
covering my shoulder.
The long night has just begun
Solemn and Subtle, sewn with
years
And hours
Of days that dripping
minutes
Never fill,
Arriving always
at the coldest hour
From the woods
That none
Can enter,
Lest you have reinforced your thoughts
With stolen rays of sunshine
Lest you have mapped
Constellations in the
Shattered glass  
From the broken
Windows of your eyes
ThumbiiRiri Jul 2018
It's the twinkle in her eyes with a smile she never hides
She loves to have fun and bring light to everyone
Her laugh's so joyful, her love's so pure
She's always happy you never see her gloom

But at night she lays with tears rolling down her face
All the funny antics gone, pretentions are done
She's lonely but not alone
Her heart is empty and she's all numb

She has friends for better but not when its bitter
But loves them no less and makes the best out of it
She puts on a facade of happiness
Even though she feels the emptiness

She's that girl with the brown eyes
She's the sanguine that never deters
She's that cheerful little gal
She's the trophy girl of everyone
She's the girl whose dead but still breathes, with her flawless skin yet scarred within.
One smile = Hundreds of pain. It's when you always want to make people happy that you somtimes forget to ask yourself if you are.
CK Baker Feb 2017
There’s a silverback haze
on the shallow face
of the Rockwell Ridge
folded brow
puzzled chin
and dark hollow eyes
keeping watch
over the lilies
and crane flies
and will of the wisp

Rust brown ravens
and fisher kings
delight
in the reeds off north bend
(chased by the terraced streams!)
youth blades engrain
on the favoured
and historic
Banka Memorial

Mustard
and pumpkin skies
are clipped
by a call from
the resident loon
the sounds of Buddha Bar
piercing the silence
and shaping the afternoon chord

It’s a time to make way (stream side)
seems the anuran are courting
Dominique Aug 2018
I'm sorry that I want you mine
To scorch your lilies and your truth
Watch water smoulder in my hands
And dance you through torrential youth
I understand it's not your way
To let me crumple unfilled sheets
Rewrite your song with overdose
In moral grey where concepts meet

Your brown eyes and dimples
Are worth a disaster
The moon's full at noon
And the sunlight won't matter
One little taste and I'll
Keep thought at bay
It's funny, ***** money
And don't run away

I might be shallow and perplexed
I'll still soak up what's in your head
And pull you from the liquid sky
And wrap your eyes in arson red
'Cause I'm more jealous than you know
Drown cobra smiles in pools of fear
And I will catch you twenty stars
We'll hitch a ride and sweeten beer

Your brown eyes and dimples
Are worth a disaster
The moon's full at noon
And the sunlight won't matter
One little taste and I'll
Keep thought at bay
It's funny, grab honey

And promise you'll stay
Marina Kay Mar 2014
Many people have asked
why I seem so empty
and I found myself arguing
about how that wasn't true.
Yet here I am,
reminiscing painted blue skies,
nostalgic, for back then
for us,
for you.

When mornings began with casual long walks
plaid skirts,
black coffee,
the daylight's warmth.
Arm in arm, against all odds
we had laughed
we had sung
we were wild, we were young.

I'll remain yearning for those Bambi brown eyes,
long chestnut hair,
darling little dents of delight.

Distant yet close
for I think of you always.

Wishing for time to fly
to when I can hold you in my arms
again.
To my best friend. I wish you were here.
Classy J Oct 2018
Sentenced to the hygienist, because I got that Indian virus.
Wish I was more like Leonidas, for my warrior self was vanquished.
Got a sense of anguish, as I don’t even know my own people’s Language.
Why did I get banished from my own land, and these immigrants now hold thee advantage?
Feels like they on a witch hunt, ain’t life a ***** huh?  
Can’t even make a quick buck, because I’m seen as a ****** ****.
Feel like a sitting duck with the ****** locked, **** is this the feeling of a cuck?
Stories always end up sad but Afterall I’m just the ******* of the brady bunch!
Brown skin cursed kin and a desperate sin so I gotta eat outta garbage’s for lunch.
Trying not to use victimization as a crutch,
but it’s like I’m a kid who got tricked into a game of double Dutch.
Crazy braided brain, deranged rabid rabbit spewing train going down a road of pain.
Come on yawl don’t you want to see the freak from cirque de soleil?
Trying in vain to wash away my shame, but the colour of my skin just won’t go away, oh what a shame!
So, I’m left crying and thinking about dying, hoping to be anything…
that may stray away from my family name.
For I’ve realized that I’m stigmatized by the whitened eyes:
that be educating lies of me being the one to blame.

No more will I be ok with this forced recital!
No more will I sit idle!
No more patriarchy, and **** the curse of ham nonsense used to justify you being spiteful!
**** your racist sentiments man, my colour doesn’t make me homicidal.

Brown clown, Down syndrome gnome!
Torn men, torn women left in prison zones!
Burn them, **** them, **** them right in they home!
Don’t frown, don’t make a sound, just stay on the ground.
Hands behind heads, then shot with lead, like a dog from the pound!
Lost and never found, but this just the curse of being brown!
What’s this now?
Nothing but wards of the crown.
Just a *****, just a glitch, that live in some ***** towns!
Or reserves doesn’t matter what the word
Or what the place is when one puts on war paint on top of their savage faces.
Here’s the thing *****, I’m not scared of staring ya down #okacrisis!
For as see it colonists are no different than isis.
I know we deal with vices,
But it’s just the effects of dealing with your hepatitis!
And I just might be bias,
But at least I’m not a delusional racist!
It doesn’t matter if it’s Past, present or future violence,
I think it’s about time to end the silence!
Kenji Nov 2015
Classic princesses, all elegantly beautiful and charming...
All irresistible and disarming...
Like a dandelion, a rose, a tulip and a lilly,
All hold such meaningful characteristics and lovely culture.

Belle, her gorgeous yellow dress and her most adored beast,
A red rose petal drops, the more she falls inlove with him,
A love so true, everlasting and has no clue.

Aurora, beautiful golden hair and lips as pink as a Bonica rosa,
a delightful melodic voice and a heart as pure as gold, this love story will never get old.

Snow White, lips as red as an Ingrid Bergman rosa, skin as luminous as pimpinellifolia rosa, and hair as black as an ebony crow...
Naive yet loving, a spark of faith and unharming.

Jasmine, long ebony hair and beautiful big brown eyes, a magical love story with a thief she goes away with, as the magical carpet flys.
Tanned skin and an exotic Arabian look, she is a stunner, Aladdin is hooked.

Mulan, courageous and simple, strong, but elegant and delightful, brave, determined and insightful...
A love story that is oh so wonderful.

Ariel, pure red locks and soft pale skin, a tail as green as the water world corals, exotic and girly, illuminating and fiery.
She saves her true lover, she is the hero in the aqua story.

Another princess, who is bound to become a queen, deep big brown eyes, tanned brown skin, lips ever so luscious, and skin ever so soft and delicious...
Caring and loving, yet boastful and inappropriate, a love story that has no happy ending, just heartbreak and pain, and feelings of soul drain, a beautiful tragedy, lost, but is still writing her story, she loves with all of her metaphoric diamond heart and touches your soul with her cupid love dart, she touches you so magically, her soft skin is like a baby's.
She is elegantly ****** in her speech, yet thoughtful and innocent...
she just needs a main squeeze...
This princess is me, Kiara.
A soon to be indian queen.
My world
ryn Feb 2015
Blue clouds gaze the wrapped sun
frozen kisses in my blood
travelling a thousand miles
to meet up with you.

There is none else walking
down this path where memories
wake up and dance
inside my armored heart.

I peeled off each kisses embrace
out of my parched lips.
I shook off the tree,
where your scent had blossomed.

Every step down this scarcely trodden path saw...
Each peel fall with helpless, damsel-like grace.
Brown leaves shone amber touched by fingers of the sun
Invasion of warmth through my greyed bony carapace.

Gentle tremors reverberate within with subtle anguish.
Sweet scented portal that took me back,
To the illusion of time where we once were...
In drunken stupor...laying under a star strewn canvas of black.

Senses that spoke of a great fantastical tale.
You are still here... In this cloying void with no one around...
Only that scent...your scent tugging on my core
Invisible tendrils berthing my feet back on ground.


Alone and wanting don't want to be anymore.
I want to feast my lungs on your skin once more.
I want to vibrate under your touch again,
In anguished anticipation and sweet pain.

I hurl your name to the echoing wind,
Blowing ferociously over the closed passage.
Only to find that I'm but elongating
the distance between our fading wishful stars.

Fading far only to find that I'm lost yet again,
Still harvesting a basket full of ripened hope.
Traversing planes with warped, slanted doorways,
Frantically seeking purchase on knobs with fevered gropes.

Heavy layered breaths inhaled too shallow...
Tracing missteps to decipher what it all meant.
When all is moot...weary, weathered and futile,
Forever I'll be bathing in the familiarity of your soothing, nectarous scent...



Dajena M
**ryn
My first collab with the incredible Dajena M. She had deleted her account and the collaborative pieces she had posted went away as well. But... I found them!!! Yay!

I'm so glad we had the chance to collaborate on such an amazing piece together.
Wk kortas Jul 2018
He has taken rake and shovel in hand,
Taking advantage of the light,
Rare in these climes this time of year,
Still welcomed, though rendered severe
By the sun's reluctant trudge above the horizon,
The type which, sauntering through a window pane
(Falling upon a crucifix anchored above a cradle
Or some ancient, gilded frame
Containing a photo of some grandparent's wedding day,
Exploding into full undifferentiated diffusion)
Containing a dram of warmth, albeit resigned, nostalgic
A bittersweet reminder of what has gone by
(And in the shade, the air is filled
With the portentous chill of what lies a few months hence)
But there nonetheless as he tends to those final farewells
From the trees bowing to December's inevitability,
The droppings not the *******-esque bursts of October
(Those having been collected and consigned
To the normal corner of the back lot)
But dreary brown-hued things, not welcomed by eye nor heart,
Simply corralled perfunctorily and dismissed.
One could contend that such activity is unnecessary,
The mere vanity of all endeavor,
As the snow will come soon, and steady as well,
Performing the seasonal, cyclical function in its own time,
But he soldiers on nonetheless, a unseen one-act nearly-farce,
Painstakingly raking and bending and scraping
To leave his patch of green uncovered for a little while
Until the locking time comes to seal the earth's secrets once more,
To be revealed to those
Who shall receive the teasing ministrations
Of the fickle, fitful March equinox.
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Impressionist colors rising out of chocolate brown,
stretching chartreuse necks upwards.
Intertwining vines clutching each other in a desperate rhapsody of life,
all waiting to display their Creators’ palette of pure color.

Orchid and yellow chalices hold the morning dew
as all are christened in jeweled morning light.
With blue and white snow you carpet the ground
blanketing hillsides with hope of Monet.

Orange tongues of fire licking up towards the sun
while jade blades battle as new growth crowds in.
Blossoms hang full with a living harvest of yellow,
awaiting transport to another.

Stalks of dried grasses stirred by the August wind,
dancing to the rhythm of the warm stirring breeze.  
Summer now ebbing away in aged colors muted with brown,
returning to the muddied ground once again.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
Next page