Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
ryn Mar 2015
I don't seek your permission...
To write about the what, why and how.
It could be a haiku or come in the shape of a cow.

I don't need your approval...
When I don't sound the least bit poetic...
In my mismatched metaphors or ill-rhymed acrostic.

I'm not asking for your blessing...
When I pen down and put up what I think...
Be it in cloying cliches or in tear drenched ink.

I don't crave for your understanding...
When my 10 word poems weren't filtered through your poetic lens,
Or if my contributions in collaborations lack in sense.

I don't hope for your likes...
If my content does not tickle your fancy,
Or if my words just rubs you silly.

I mean no disrespect...
But don't be too quick to click on the 'comment' button.
Private messaging has been put there for a reason.

I don't mean to cramp your style...*
You're entitled to your own opinions of course...
But if you've got nothing good to say, please save it and shove it up yours.
.
This is a peaceful community, almost sacred to many. All bearing a heart (hale or ailing) are welcome to spill their ink... Regardless of writing experience or poetic prowess.

Bear in mind that people write for various reasons. Some are really good at it, some are just barely starting. Some ask for feedback, some just want an outlet.

So... Be nice. Use the private messaging feature if you really need to offload your thoughts on another's text offering.

Respect and be respected.
.
ryn Oct 2014
On this carousel
You and I
Ringing bells
Time passes by

Scorching bulbs
Ornate bobbing horsies
Enchanting music
Tell of magical stories

I am here
On this side
You are there
Same ****** ride

Opposite ends
Placed we two
We can't see
But each other we knew

Friendly peeks
Directed to you
All I could afford
Keep you in view

Still rotating
Ride goes on
Chasing each other
No closer we've drawn

Enjoy the ride
Soak in the sights
Hold at bay
Reality that bites

Thought about
Getting off
Don't know how to
Come to a solve

Can't hold still
It's eating me alive
Can't just stay
Have to strive

Hand still holding on
One foot dangling
Second thoughts play
But bent on releasing

Take the first step
Don't overthink
Take the leap
Step off the brink

Close my eyes
Time is now
Just let go
Fate I must allow

Ready now
Time came to a freeze
one...two...
three...release


Now off the carousel
Cloying uncertainty
Never been here
Unknown territory

In the music
Found familiarity
Unsure if here
Is where I want to be

What do I do?
Wait a little more?
Hop back on?
Or await what's in store?

Glad I waited
Glad patience I found
There you are...
Coming back round
Madness plays in loops...
A sick little spin on the carousel.
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.
ryn Feb 2015
.
    It's here again...
   Heavy downpour...
   I inhaled the rain,
    cloying with petrichor.

      Standing at my window,
     looking out...
    Street lamps struggled aglow.
   People with brollies walking about.

   My eyes reached out to the heavens,
    tracing these glassy beads
      as they'd free fall...
        Falling by the sheets,
       the pattering hastens,
      periodically punctuated
     by the thunder's call.

     Mind is drifting and floating,
       intently listening to a
          million love wishes...
             Liquid beauty...melding, sketching...
           In light entrapped splashes.

         Raindrops descend and come,
         into my still life tonight...
          Won't you will me numb,
             with your chilly bite...

             Wide-eyed enamour...
            Catching a stray droplet or two.
             Riding the tail of a zephyr,
              finding a place where
                no trouble could ensue.

            An errant gust blew
           to meet with me.
          The refreshing moist
         meets my parted lips...
        Inhaling deep in this reverie...
       Into a sea of tranquillity,
        my mind slowly dips...

      Sigh... If the droplets were kisses...
      I would savour each and every one.
      If the moist wind came and caresses
     I would meet it in a tight embrace
   till the break of sun.

  What a sight...
   Almost surreal it seems...
      As the light from the surrounding
         lamps dances playfully...
        Dispersing and exploding into a
     barrage of shattered beams.
    Before it gets subdued in the drops
   caught by the leaves on a nearby tree...

   The drops would trickle
     and fall before merging,
      forming stranded puddles
       unable to flow...
        Rippling... Splashing... Reflecting...
      An image...
     Borne out of a fantastic show.

    An image of beating hearts,
     overlapping one another...
       Speaking of consequential love
          and feelings so true
        Intertwined...
     in the promise of forever...
  Slowly retrieving itself into an...


  image of you...
Kitbag of Words Jan 2018
an incredible incite (the ruthless volatility of words)

~for L.B.~

the only place of solitaire solitude in the city accompanies me
like a faithful country dog that doesn’t know better to be afraid,
of moving cars, sleepless night terrors and unscripted “dreams”

where image and words say come “follow me” with ruthlessness and no cloying come hither looks and
see and take and recall with perfect midnight blue sky clarity for

the incredible incite of credible insight

surfacing unexpectedly in a intemperate pool of slushy snow,
that will be an ice storm of painful confrontations with naked
inner truths standing outside in sunny sub zero playground

there is great risk.  volatility gone wild. when the speed
governor is removed and you live at 100 mph on local streets,
when the merest slight of an accidental incidental touch
transforms into an incite incident and hell is the threat
that you will not die today and your own words will ruthless
pull from the nerve places where sensible and sensual cannot
coexist and this write this script is a poetical insight inside, an
incredible incite and what your spilling is spaghetti sauce blood
when you left your brain on broil, instead of the faking daily of
slow simmering ineffectual intellectual words that just don’t
cut the crap. your addiction complete, you cannot live without
the incredible incite, the ruthless volatility of words,
otherwise why rough write what you see
in the blind
beyond the blind


1/6/18 5:03am
Twelfth Night, Act 1, Scene 5
“I took great pains to study and ’tis poetical
Sana Jan 2015
My heart I bequeath you
O’ stillness of my universe
I bequeath you my sanity
Spreading this cloak of being in your dust
I bow to your twinkling stars
To the waxing sun and scented grass
I bow to your springing rivers
To the parched grain and blossoming flowers
I bow to the warmth of my lover
And want of my beloved
I bow to your saccharine figs
And honeyed nectar in chalice filled
I bequeath my mortality to your transiency
Blinded by this light in game of ruse
Into your cohesiveness, I fuse
In blinkers to win the race
Espying a king in glass
Presage of being a slave

Yet when darkness falls
I furl my cloak and solemnly rise
For I bow not then
To your barren fields and waning suns
I bow not to your garish colors,
To the cloying drupe and wilted blossoms
Bracing my feeble transience
With my tenet and trail of faith
I bow to the King of kings;
Whilst I beseech for emanating hope,
In my tigers clasp, my God’s rope
I beseech,
Till the noise becomes music again
And as I gaze in the glass now,
All I espy is a beseeching slave
True, the brightest light casts the darkest shadow but it is in darkest that brightest embers can be found.
"Inside the womb, silence whispers;
Darkness wombs the light
Raging storms give birth to light"

Our fate is storm,
We are the light
We are the raging storm
ryn Jul 2014
Feels so heavy this beating stone in my chest
Like an anvil strung up by a thin fraying thread
In my heart, happiness feels like a regular guest
It comes for a while, but always leaves me with dread.

When it leaves, there is void ever so cloying
This void it seems to be adamant on being empty
I'd mope and seem unexcited about anything
I fail to see life and all of it's beauty.

Much dreaded, this feeling of overwhelming miss
Oh I simply hate it when I feel this way
Maybe all I want is if only I had her to kiss
Wishing I'd have more of her time in a day.

I can't think like this, I should not be selfish
I must learn to accept she has her own worth living
Deep down inside, I'm fighting my own skirmish
I'd say it's alright but it seems untrue, to myself I'm lying.

I guess this is the relationship between love and pain
One can't just be without first inviting the other
My innermost and most intimate I so have lain
What I want most, isn't what I'm allowed right now, right here.

I often had wished I was in another time
I always have hoped I'm in a different place
A time where our hearts were speaking in rhyme
A place where we'd forever be face to face.

It's just so hard to be a part of a cruel trick
Seems unjust to be played like little game pieces
The locks to happiness I'd forever try to pick
For happiness is having you loving and embracing me endless.
mariamme Dec 2018
there is no such thing
as a complete end to love.

despite the goodbyes, the
thank u, next quality to these
love affairs that somehow clog
my pores & leave me breathless

this love is the clarity i needed
a remedy, a rush of fresh air
after the cloying sweetness i had
that entraps as much as enchants.

sure, love was the golden thread
that made the tapestry of exes
worth my time & affection;

but good goddess, i do believe
you have the midas touch

cold clear love, a quenching
of all the insecurity and loss
transmute the gold into grace

i don't need wealth i need you
all this new love
laid out like laughter between us.
03 dec | 1:33am
hi, i dislike december for lots of reasons but this makes me smile, so please enjoy it as you see fit.
cr Mar 25
standing in front of the pacific
sea salt hair, frothy finger scooping
water back into the sea
gulls hungry desperate endangered
if not for stranger's crisps
clawed baby *****
pincers at the ready
crushed by babies human
shell fractured by skin
hands held together by other hands
threaded together like a lifeline
families laugh, dolphin-like chortles
over nothing
at all
and sons and daughters
forgo their differences, chuck them
into waves with grey shore rocks, protect
their towels and castles and bodies
with sand moats, a starfish
plunked dead center
far away from home
iridescent sea shells collected
as jewels, worn around pretty
bruised necks of housewives
content in their one-day
ocean excursion turned revolution
solitude as i watch
and sit and think and think and
feel and watch some more
eyes like those saccharine
candy floss treats, cloying to
tongues and fingertips, alone
in another universe i am
with a family
tossing our children into ocean waves
dunking ourselves into the deep
collecting glinting shells for
our jewelry, breaking them
as they are shoved into plastic bags
but today
in this universe
i am the crab
crushed by skin
and flesh
and bone
a soulless thing
careful to observe, cautious, fleeting
miniscule
to be fed upon, ******
dry by trauma,
licked off the fingers of
would-have-been acquaintances
a carcass of longing
for moremoremore

yet never quite certain
how to crawl towards it
lest i be
stomped upon
again

so i sit on the beach
inhale saltwater and laughter and affection
through my skin
and make friends with sea creatures
as lonely as i am
as insignificant
as me
i had to write this as a prompt for a creative writing class and u know what. it's going on here. bc fine !!
JMT Sep 2018
**** me
With saccharine sighs
And cloying eyes
Their glamour entices me
These thoughts leaden in my viscera
Scarlet in my sclera
Your love is terrifying
Viscous and caustic
You’re going to destroy me
But that’s fine
I’m going to let you
Lingering in your shade
I’ll stay awhile longer
Away from myself
I’ll never be far enough
Just let me stay awhile longer
Jayne E Jun 3
My dreams awake to the taste of rust
coppery flavours that eroded all trust
a child's sweeter mind strives to find
a soothe to unlock to free to unbind

history hurling rocks at my tired head
all the years unfolding a sleepless bed
escape routes blocked frozen clocks
the tock the tick backwards knocks

It's brutal this night colder than rest
it's harder this one, a tougher test
cold deep mud dragging me down
cloying my skin peeled by sick clown

his knife runs thru warm blood cold skin
this cold dark hell he has me trapped in
if I could just prise open sleeping eyes
if I could only stifle his laugh to my cries

if I could run thru him faster than light
if only I could've fought with my might
maybe I'd be freer than this cold dark
maybe it'd lighten my heart left stark

J.C. honey-assassin 04/06/2019.
Rain Jan 30
The Smog is a thick blanket tonight,
The moon just visible through its veil
Toxic, smothering us in the dark
As we run beneath the stars

Every breath in piercing, clotting, cloying
We grit our teeth and grin as mad
We are one, we sprint
We are mad,
As we run beneath the stars

Cubicle, so tiny
A cage so confining
School, so tiring
Walls made of iron
Home, so clean
Polluted air so pristine
Hate and venom, clear oxygen
No one else can smell this fear

Outside, a breath
Noxious fumes, a little death
Fumes inhaled
Less deadly yet

And so we run.
We race and we choke
Taking life as we go
We throw off our masks,
Oxygen filtered out
Who needs to breathe?

Suffocation outside is a better kind of sting.

We run, we fly beneath the stars
Laughing, roaring
Fulfilling this ache
Inhaling the toxins,
Letting them keep us awake

We may cough and we may sputter,
But this is the pain we choose
So much better than any other

And so we run.
The non-literal suffocation of life at home, at work, and in school can be, in my mind, so much greater than the suffering one experiences when going out into the polluted streets (the "throw off our masks" line has a double meaning, one of mask as in hiding who you are elsewhere, and mask as in a mask against toxins in the air), and sometimes it’s worth it to simply let go.
JLB Oct 2018
There's a woman drenched in blue
walking in a cold stone room
circling in a blinded way--riddles raddling out of her brain
and into a shoe.
what to do, what to do.
she walks with armoured gate.
hardened in nature,
speaking her truth,
she holds a hand high to measure
her worth
and it begs the question: do we believe her?
I don't dare go inside,
for worth dwindles with time.
the shelf life on her truth--
though certainly dire,
is short and sweet as vermouth
and society must hear him
before lighting the pyre.
I, a reporter,
root for her-- her biggest supporter.
through a peep hole I can see
the man, and then she.
but I can't type too loud, or the alarm will sound--
one eyelid closed, ball point pen stabbing down
to release some subliminal seismic rapture:
invisible to me, but gushing all around.
Our collective furry, coming un-wound
while unwavering folks still capture
a crooning boy in their arms
despite his cloying false charms.
She throws the shoe, blind,
spilling its rhyme
onto the stone floor
a moment of quiet
and some piece of mind...
but ending somehow
the same as before:
There's a woman drenched in blue
walking in a cold stone room
circling in a blinded way--riddles raddling out of her brain
and into a shoe.
what to do, what to do.
Drusila Mar 29
Oh ... but you’re a tragedy!
Upon one glance you see,
only see darkness in his dark brown eyes,
He tries to conceal it

But certain truths cannot be denied

When I stumbled into him
The cold of his eyes slowly my ticker paralyzed
I would love him for most days
Ignorant of the grey that involved him

It wasn’t love expressed in the most loving way history has ever been told

But oh boy, oh boy
That man was a tragedy
He would freeze me in his embrace
And let go almost on my second last breath
Thirstily murmur the tenderest words poets ever spoken

Though it was only poetry if professed by him

The wildest spirit I ever knew
Couldn’t be borne by no carnal form
that would be taken in this life

My sweet sweet woe
Do not grow any fonder within me
I won’t say it was love, but I would love you until the sea creatures needn’t the ocean to survive

If it’s love, let me pursue it
If it isn’t love, let me ordeal it
And enjoy the most pleasurable suffering that no pains ever caused

This cloying woe I would endure for the next three lives, possibly more
William Evans Sep 2018
Your broken bone
like the shattered stone,
This castle is cracked and cannot do
anymore, to provide or act as roof,
You cannot live here anymore
so you do not live here anymore,
You inhabit
like the benign growth which nestles
uninvited in the brain.

Ignore this collapsing home,
Ignore your body, overgrown
By moss and chewed by birds who come
discussing matters of life over their meal,
The meat melts in the mouth, they remark -
Do you suppose it is fresh, they remark -
But they grow tired of the supple carrion,
They rise beyond the broken shelter,
Suddenly the cloying sky is filled with life!
They rip off shreds to take home to offspring
and throw aside the sullied bone
to lay forever beside the cracking stone.
Yenson Feb 19
The shallow souls of concrete-ville
in aimless throes of desires unmet
piqued by glares truthful
of
inconsequential battery raised stocks
uninspiring and homogenised fodders
searching
for
raison d'être in minds  assailed in
vacuous slumber, raw yet percolated
in the pollution of concrete dirges.
closed eyes and minds
agitated
and hysterical
screaming in angst
and gorged on ******* burgers
vomiting
ingested bile from troubled twisted
innards in the bleakness
of the
emptiness of regressive lives
and cloying degenerative stances

Notice me, recognize me
plaintive pleas from damp
soot soaked injured damaged minds
I matter, I can write, let me show off
my ambling strides
my opaque being
is melting
in this insipid concrete life
and the brilliance
of The Together
wrecks
and howls in my
fragility and limitations
I who truthfully
have less
have less
have less
Shadow Puppet Dec 2018
My tranquil storm is beginning to ruin the peace
I'm indulging too much in these cherry heresies

I left the candy faucet running
Only to have my cup filled with nothing

The dulcet haze amazes me
The doubts resonate
I shiver and shake, my head
From my childhood dreams

Stuck in a room of black ripples
The susurration slightly annoying me
I know something so pure could never remain

Cloying,
I hate when you sugar coat the truth

The lies are obscure, but I believe
even when you find fault in me
I go to the sink turning the handles

In deep thought, I think
I always keep going back to the kitchen sink

You come out of darkness
Pull me in
"I want you to love me again"
I want to put an end to the mystery

So, I take a towel and attempt to cleanse
The mess I found last night
In the kitchen sink
Created 1.28.18
do you not see?
do you ever notice me?
can you tell when i can’t breathe?
do you even understand
the capacity
of your actions and the way they control the world around me?
are you blind
or are you dense?
common sense
intelligence
practicality
experience
i don’t understand
don’t comprehend
are you blind?
must i remind
you of all the times
i gave what i didn’t have
just to hear you call yourself mine
and then in the end
you take it all back
like i was the one who surprised
you with all this love ****
i waited to say it back
cause i didn’t want it to be a lie
your cloying lips just let it fall
into my hands
when “i love you” meant nothing at the time

— The End —