Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Poetic T Aug 2018
liquid love poured from
           seeping fissures.
And she tasted his every moment.

He gave his essence so she could
       linger within a lifetime of memoires.
And she saw every pain of his existence.

Within her tears were reflections of his
            momentary happiness with her.
Knowing she would drain his pain away.


"To collect the pain of another
         is to know the true emotions
         of what its like to live within there anguish
"

We only know those we love truly by tasting
        the dirt left behind in there footsteps.
Everyone has prints in the past wished brushed away.
laura Apr 2018
Fell in love last friday
with a non-binary star
woke up and brushed my teeth
with sunglasses on thinking
of them

white shots of hail and the windows
jeweled from the rain
a hot week and hot nights
followed by a hot star
and sheets of rains from grey clouds
changing
they DJ’d at a party and i got rly drunk kayyyy

edit: thx angela for lighting this one up :3
Elena Jan 18
Her branches hung low
to the ground
They brushed the dirt
that they sat upon
How beautiful is pain
when it grows
It has a way to hang
those gentle woes.

See that tree all alone
yet so full?

Her shadows weep
in the bristles of doom
Then the sun comes to play
in the cold bushy monsoon.
As gusty sighs sway her eyes
to greet the galloping moon.
September Roses Oct 2018
The arctic cold has brushed my cheek once again
The skies are stained white
and the ringing in my ears
is louder than ever
I wonder what the clouds are doing, I never see them anymore
The night doesnt come but the sun doesn't shine
I have a silver notebook
I write, spearmint
Because my eyes are watering but I feel nothing
The world is dry while the air is full
And the heavens take their morning pills
Wash their face
Head off sleepily to begrudgingly watch the icy seas
The wind bites my cheeks
But moves in such silence I wonder if the feeling is not just my routine punishment
At least I'm used to my spirits
At least I have a jacket on
At least the heavens didnt take a sick day all together.
Marcus Lane Mar 2011
Sunshine,
Birdsong
And children drunk on
Lemonade
And laughter.

That Welsh picnic
Has lasted forty years
And will last forty more
In daydream

And nightmare.

The stream babbled
Over pebbles,
Fern fronds
Brushed our sun-browned shins

Till the dead sheep
Slugged us in the guts.

Bloated and bulbous,
The body dammed the stream,
Its lifeless eyes
Crawling with life.

Those pearly marbles were
A child’s looking glass into death.

The rocks we hurled at it
In reckless revulsion
Were the screams
Of violated youth,

And those empty dead sheep thuds
The dawning of our mortality.
© Marcus Lane 2010
Jeff Stier Oct 2016
A most pious man
whose well-tempered music
brushed the cobwebs
from the throne of God

Evolution was made manifest
across deep time
these lyrical figures
achieve the same purpose
in the space between the morning star
and the dawn

A fallow field
is sewn with pearls
a moonlit beach
illuminated by shadow
every scrape of the fiddler's bow
merges mind with the present
harvests the meaning
in the moment

The composer
that good man
was
for a time
church organist at St. John's
its notable steeple leaning
all askew
as a rebuke against God
or perhaps the drunken architect

A finger of candlelight
plays across the manuscript
a fugue echoes
through the still church

And though no living person
on that still winter's night
shares the organist's solemn delight
the stirring mass of possibility
that is posterity
awaits
Jesse stillwater Mar 2018
A pair of lily white wings
   dangling in the dappled moonlight esprit;
hang entangled as silken spider web
   draped in the sweet Magnolia tree

From beneath there was no way of knowing
   why a pair of abandoned wings lodge mislaid
One could not help but wonder how high
   one might fly with cherub wings

But these callused feet tread far below the treetops
   too high up from roots to climb
No telltale tiptoe prints cavort to be the talebearer
   No feathered traces scattered all around

A hearken say, tickle-footed as a ladybug,
   hold forth in a breeze brushed ear
Not completely undoubtable heed spoken;
   a language bestow from another ether
softly breathe a whisper'd sigh:

"Behold the wings of a fallen angel;
   uplifted by love's amazing grace
Lost alone in a moonstruck blindness
   an angel flying too close
           to the ground

                      ~

                   Jesse
.
            08 March 2018
Cindra Carr Dec 2010
Wishful thinking and a smattering
Freckles sprinkled across her cheek
A winking *** brought tight aloft
A slick line of buttery soft
Feathery light against my find
A curve brushed with a fingertip
My smile flipped slid away
Her mouth flashed a blurred flirt
She touched the flush
That brought the heat her lips flicked
Eyes closed with a bunched fist
Hair tangled as her fingers wove
Lips parted brushed a last kiss
Heat gone left with frayed thoughts
Wishful thinking as she slipped away

cc1210
Cné Jan 2018
years ago
i was consumed
in the deep abyss of depression.
i had been there before
and had always managed
to dig my way out.
but this time i got lost
in a maze, each turn dragging me further
into Hell.

so many unresolved thoughts plagued
the chasm of my mind.
i wanted to die,
not to **** myself,
for i couldn't be that selfish
to hurt my family in that way.
but i prayed selfishly
to be put out of my misery.
a prayer i felt unanswered
for months on end.
i tried to hide
this darkness
from those closest to me,
isolating myself.

in a defense mechanism sarcastic tone,
i smirked to a friend
that all i really wanted
was peace.
she encouraged me to pray.
i responded honestly,
"i'm not sure prayer works for me
because i've lost faith."

as if God only answers to those with faith.
she told me
that i might need to see results to believe
but that i should
give it a shot anyway
and stick with it.
i brushed it off.

the next morning,
i woke up with my normal
(worse than normal, at that time)
negative thoughts, you're ****, fat, unworthy ...
(that's the censored, more kind version of my thoughts)
to which i argued in my head,
be kind.
silly i know.
then my friend's words resonated
"give it a shot."
so i quickly prayed a simple prayer for peace
in my mind, body and in my soul.
of course, i didn't feel any different at the time,
but i drug my heavy laden body out of bed.
forced myself to workout and went to work.

my first client that day was new to me.
hiding behind my work mask,
i presented myself professional
with my usual introduction.
she returned the favor
with a look of odd fascination.
so i continued with
"have i worked on you before?"
hoping i hadn't absentmindedly
not recognized a former client.
she responded "no, but you are Liz, right?"
i confirmed and proceeded to my room.
after scoping out the surroundings,
she commented on one of my paintings
on the wall, of an Angel.
it's an abstract.
some people don't see it.
then she asked ...
if i was a believer.
caught off guard
i responded "excuse me?"
she said, "do you believe in Jesus?"
not accusatory or even with aggression,
but a simple question, with dancing eyes.
i said, yes, more out of fear,
with my current frame of mind, at the time.
i was fragile and trying desperately
to hold it together.

i left her to ready herself for therapy
and took the opportunity
to regain my composure,
securing my guarded mask.
when i began therapy
she sighed and said
"i felt in my heart
that you were the right therapist for me,
because i can feel your kind heart."

i asked "did someone refer you to me?"
with suspicion, and narrowed eyes.  
she responded "no. Jesus gave me your name."
she told me how she relied heavily on prayer
and that brought her to see me.
i **** you not.
i brushed off her words
as any sane
(even in depression)
person would.

she was not easy to work
as a large body
that was hard as stone.
but my thoughts began to shift,
i swallowed an emotional lump in my throat.
in that moment, i realized,
i felt privileged to be working on her,
for her to have sought me out
on a quest from Jesus, or so she believed.
a peace i'd never experienced before
washed over me, cleansed me, anointed me.
in that moment, i felt clean, light.

afterward she gave me a huge hug
with an exaggerated pause
and whispered in my ear,
that prayer was the only reason
she was alive.
it felt like no other hug i'd received before,
so tender, sweet and sincere.
so i asked myself
"was this a sign?"

from that day forward,
i found my way back.
navigating the maze.
it didn't happen all at once
but each step, each turn
lead me out of the abyss of darkness
and toward the light of harmony and peace.
and though, i still slip occasionally,
i recall that spiritual experience.
this happened. i don't consider myself and a religious person but i would say i am spiritual.  i don't share this experience often because had it not happened to me, i wouldn't believe it. i share it now in hopes that someone who is lost, isolated, hurt, in pain, and in the grips of darkness, might believe it possible to find their way out.
ryn Jan 2015
"You love them
With all your heart and soul
Yet, you can't be with them
But you'll never let them go...
And it hurts..."*
- The Girl Who Loved You


Submerged and gasping
Swept away by the immense wave
Thoughts of you I'm painfully drinking
To my heart I'm but a slave

Caught in the undertow
Find myself submitting carelessly
Brushed aside all that I used to know
Drowning in emotional debris

There's strength in me yet
I need not be killed today
I could break free, I could forget
But fight I do not, instead still I lay

Because you see... You are the ocean
And I am but an invisible speck
I, too, want a place in heaven
Not wallow an inconsolable wreck

I'd get washed over but I'd swim deeper
So we could exist only in memory
My heart betrays but never will I sever
Even if you're the love that was never meant to be
Line taken off TGWLY's "To All The People Who Can't Have The One They Love:", for Frank Ruland's "Let's Do A Line!" challenge.

TGWLY is one of the first friends I made here and she's such an incredible writer!

This line of hers bears so much that I'd shed a tear everytime I read it. It rings so true for most of us. It made me relate...it made me feel human.

Thank you TGWLY for the inspiration and Frank for setting up the opportunity for me/us to acknowledge and give credit to those who've penned down solid lines embedded within amazing writes.
Eleanor Rigby Feb 2015
You looked me in the eye
With the same smile you gave me
A long time ago.
You let me order your coffee for you
I knew which one
It's still the same
From a long time ago.

I laughed about the jokes you told me
You laughed at how unfunny
Mine were
And you playfully hit me
I frowned, you laughed,
I laughed, you laughed again
And said sorry
Just like you did
A long time ago.

The worst of it all
Was that when your hand
Accidentally brushed mine
I shivered
Just like I did
A long long time ago.


-- Eleanor
Dead Rose One Feb 2015
"how can you be in bed so fast?
we just got home five minutes ago?"*

You got girlie stuff to do babe.

unlock the front door,
thirty steps
to our bed.

maybe stop to basketball shoot
***** clothes into a swish
of the hamper's netting

or,
maybe not.

turn off the overhead left handed in
a single motion, a highlight video,
both left foot socks
hid in the snow boots,
outside the front door.

you understand.

my unseen
girlie stuff,
requires me in state of ******,
while you be
prepping.

face washed, creamed,
hair n' tooth brushed,
other stuff,
unmentionable.

am doing
my thing...

my girlie stuff


starting a
poem interruptus
my pre-Coitus exercise,
just a new love poem
conception,
initiated,
doing my thing,
waiting on you
primped n'pumped,
décolletage clad,
to give me that
girlie stuff
closing stanza
Alex Hunter May 2015
Don’t go.
I blurted out through my cries,
gripping her hand tighter.

Think of trees,
she whispered, wiping the tears from my cheek
like leaves catching raindrops,
They’ll help you sleep.*

So I began to dream
with the help of the trees
and the breeze that brushed
ever so lightly through the leaves.

As she let go of my hand
and disappeared from my room,
I was no longer afraid
of the loneliness that loomed,

for the trees will always surround me.
Jayesh Jul 2018
I hear of your struggles
In every way
You tell me of them
Over and over and over
And I feel mixed
Twisted

On one side honored
You trust me enough to tell me
But on the other side worried
For how this consumes you

I found you in the midst of Dark
Shining as the brightest Light
Undeterred by the greatest of evils
And I was forever in awe
As a moth to its light

But instead of finding my solace in your warmth
You dimmed
Once withstanding anything thrown at you,
But instead finding darkness to come
From a place least expected:
From those closest
And the Dark took you
Elated in its clever nature

Now you complain
Over matters you would have brushed aside

I can see this aura around you
While once filled with the greatest Light,
Now lies tinged with specks of black
And I can see it consuming you

Perhaps I was naïve
Searching for something different in our world
A source of Light
Rather than a consumer of it
I’m glad I was able to witness your brilliance
As it taught me many things

No matter how brilliant your light,
The greatest Light
Only shows in times of the greatest darkness
Beaming into the Dark
A hopeless task
Yet filled with the greatest Hope of all
a honey bee stung me
not because I disturbed the remnants of his hive
or stepped on the flower he sat upon
I watched puzzled as he struggled on the ground
after burying his sword in my arm
thus sacrificing himself
in honor of his brothers and his queen
you see
he was the last
he had no voice to tell me of their fate
the destruction we'd wrought
on this docile creature
this creator of sweet nectar

the sting was brief and I brushed it away
and continued on
as we all do when only temporarily impeded
unaware
the sting about to come
we have no idea
Cindra Carr Dec 2010
She slip slid into my reach
My heart double-timed to right itself
Loose grips and tight fits
She touched me along the wrong side
Brushed me down and wriggled those hips
Breath stuttered as my ears she kissed
The peaks of sighs and quick hitch
She gave me a taste with a little nip
My lip bruised and my stomach clenched
She slip slid against my heart
A piece of life glossed and smooth
She gripped my soul without a thought
A crush of skin against my body
Before she slip slid right out of my reach

cc2010
Bless me this Mentor of Sole Beauty's Heir
Yet Strong but Soothing Overtones bespoke
Your Man won your Lot; Such Blue Maiden Fair
Whose learned Feathers brushed my mind pre-note
Which perchance teach me this Indigestion
Of Quarter-Terms whose gods we must rely
Your Patience, prized, covet my Attention
Which by tri-week's end I will soon come by
And hope within months my Master become
Whilst you dear Lady try to taste our Flag
I realize, this Truth: Work most embalm
Then my Skills effect to Experience had.
Before I forget, I'll thank in advance
This Dumb Poet's Song in foolish romance.
L B Aug 2017
River bamboo arrayed in lace tiers
consoles the birdbath on its loss of robins
Intemperate August staggers in liquored air
of wavery heat and layered sighs

Leaves relinquish their rush
toward this “ripe on time”
Blackberry brambles have ceased to reach
now bow to ponder their plunder
while petunias, those bold delinquents!
bloom as if the frost’s lethal cling
were some myth
the antique roses had made up

Bud, bloom, revive!
See the generation of the bee!
Bud, bloom, survive—
to do it all again
for the single sake...
of treasuring beginning in the end...

Her bicycle, my geranium
have found eternity together
on the sun spattered patio

She—
opens the screen door
as I—
climb the morning stairs
She—
squints smiles amongst sleepy freckles
who has not brushed her hair
in a late August moment of not caring

And I know it will all happen anyway
no matter what I do....
...And it has happened-- my daughters grown and gone... the wonderful home along the river, torn down for the building of a levee.  I'm glad I wrote this-- like a bookmark among so many memories.
Morning Rainbow

Myriad prismatic crystals,
     refract the morning sun-streams -
painting layers of spectral arches
     across the misted horizon.

Eyes turned to the western skies,
     we suspend our meteorological selves  
acquiescing to miracles unveiled before us -
     un-beckoned and scarcely earned,
proffering thanks for the radiant epistle
     of healing, hope and promise,
artfully encoded in transfigured light.

Synthetic Refractions

A luminary ballet takes center stage
    when synthetic refractors come to play:
crystal pendants bathe our foyers
      with dazzling swaths of color.
Hazy coronas encircle streetlamps
      discovered by headlights through the fog.
A science class prism slices light rays
     into pre-ordered spectral strata.

If the sky denies us a rainbow,
     we can always fashion one of our own
and we do!



Spectral Sound

Before there was music,
     bird songs brushed our souls
and the murmur of woodland streams
     held us captive by their banks.

Soon we learned to sing and tint the air
    With prisms of wood and wire and metal
and to color soundscapes in our spirits
     With songs of wonder, joy and longing.

Before there was music,
     bird songs brushed our souls.

Robert Charles Howard, 2019
This is a rewrite and expansion of a prior poem called Morning Rainbow. The poems are design to go with an original piece for solo flute also called Prisms.
Alyssa Algorithm Jan 2014
I've called to death a thousand times
And not once has he answered.
His door is locked, his lights are off.
There's no one home in Deaths' house.

I awoke today as usual,
But wishing that I didn't.
I called to Death and he told me
That my life had beauty in it.

I quickly scoffed and brushed it off,
Still longing for life's' end.
Until I heard that singing bird,
and with that my day was brightened.

I still call Death from time to time,
but just to see how he's been.
Sometimes Death even calls to me
But I rarely let him in.
Jasmine Garcia Oct 2017
Love
scribbled
hues
And etched
onto hearts
Brushed
imperfections
Canvassed
unconditional
warmth
and fondness
Set forth
with clarity
Bolded
with joy
Contoured
with passion
  Embellished!  
a soulful
craft of
lovers' masterpiece.
A short scene, a picture and a written description of art and love
Clinton Arneson Dec 2015
If an orchid wished and wondered,
as a merchant slipped and blundered,
and from his pack was sundered
a genie's magic lamp...

and if this flower's dream,
was to know what it would mean,
to live life as human being,
as her petals brushed this lamp...

and our genie had desired,
to render wishes sired,
for now, no longer mired,
her having freed him of the lamp...

and if our genie was required,

to match to whom inquired,
by her beauty, so inspired,
he would make this flower

you
...and she totally shot me down lol
Lovely Nobody Dec 2018
I saw him in a K-Vibe store
His sight melted my ice-*******.
He saw me watching and smiled at me.
Walked the short distance, my heart filling with glee.
Our hands brushed,
We both blushed,
And then I noticed the thing that broke the love spell
He was wearing an EXO hoodie
And I a BTS sweat with koya smell
And hence we couldn't be together
for I am an ARMY and he an EXO-L
A POEM DEDICATED TO THE COLD WAR, NOT BETWEEN US AND CHINA
BUT BETWEEN ARMYs AND EXO-Ls

Lol its just for fun
No hard feelings for EXO-Ls


Kimnamjoon_kimseokjin_minyoongi_junghoseok_parkjimin_kimtaehyung_jeonjungkook_BTS
Next page