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Michelle Aug 2015
Drip, drip, drip
From the bracelets of blood.
Drip, drip, drip
From the salty eye-flood.
Drip, drip, drip
Followed by thud thud thud.
Drip, drip, drip
In the rain and the mud.
Drip, drip, drip
In the mud and the rain.
Drip, drip, drip
Sounds like the loneliest pain.
Drip, drip, drip
All over again.
Drip, drip, drip
Walk but don't trip.
Drip, drip, drip
Go on, just one more sip.
Drip, drip, drip
And then glug, glug, glug
Drip, drip, drip*
Until you're sick, sick, sick.
Not sure if I like this or if I'll delete it in a few days. I wrote this when I was drunk. Also, while writing this, I looked at the word 'drip' for so long it didn't look like a word anymore...
Eyal Lavi Aug 2017
Part 2

The old man sits upon his chair and speaks words slip with spit they drip - drip drip - he speaks but no one’s there. From thought to speech the old man speaks, his words released hang in the mist formed out of air so thick and dense it ebbs and flows and dances with a constant freeze brought by the breeze thus when he speaks the old man sees the sounds that slip from his own lips...

...Each word a sound each sound a note encased in ice the words take form; his thoughts comprised of merging chords which morph into the words whose form is slick and round, encased in ice, shine like a string of flawless pearls.

A burden air can never bare the string of pearls falls from mid-air. Pearls hit the floor with such great force that impact shatters words like bones upon a field where battles roared, souls ripped from form thus die his words; remains of thoughts the old man spoke, words torn apart reduced to chords in piles litter scatter wasted cursed forever to be words unheard like treasures lost, no! never found or heard, his words the unearthed pearls of thoughts he thought and dared to speak though fate he knew would have them be forever lost beneath the sea where words from chords and notes will never see the day nor know the heat when they would shine under the sun though smooth and round their form once was when once the shattered chords were words.

There was a time his words had form their form was round like pearls or drops of water dripped from leaky faucets drip they slip from rusty lips into the sink and down the pipes which snake throughout the secret house, they drip the words words slip his thoughts from lips are lost drip drip the words in chords thoughts drip are lost in sinks forever gone the old man thinks…

Drip drip he speaks words slip drip drip from lips words drip their form drip drip so round the sound from chords which merged and formed the words he thinks and speaks and let's thoughts drip released expelled he sees the strings of pearls his words afloat drip drip the words the sound he hears or heard he thinks once there he sees or saw he saw he knows he did let words drip drip from lips but then drip drip he knows he sits he rocks on boards within drip drip a house where secrets drip, the words, drip drip the sound, they slip forever gone as if they once were sounds which maybe formed the maybe thoughts he may have thought the old man thinks that maybe he just never spoke the words which maybe never were the thoughts he thought or did he think he didn’t know now doesn’t know not like the sound he knows he hears the drip, drip drip drip from rusty lips of leaky faucets down the sink...

The End Part 2
This is the 2nd part of a 3 Part poem titled Drip Drip Drip Eyal Lavi
storm siren Oct 2017
Drip
Drip
Drop

Do you hear it?

No?

Listen closer.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Can you feel it?

No?

Close your eyes.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Breathe in.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Breathe out.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Can you hear her voice?

Drip
Drip
Drop

Do you know what she's saying?

Drip
Drip
Drop

I don't think we should listen.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Did it just get colder?

Drip
Drip
Drop

Can you hear it?

Drip
Drip
Drop

It's coming from the walls...

Drip
Drip
Drop

What? No, wait--

Drip
Drip
Drop

Is that..?

Drip
Drip
Drop

She's at the backdoor.

Drip
Drip
Drop

N-no, no please!

Drip
Drip
Drop

It's so quiet.

Drip
Drip
Drop

I think it's over.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Wait...

Drip
Drip
Drop

Do you hear it?

Drip

Drip

Drop
Dennis Scherle Jan 2014
Drip drip drop
I watch the blood run dwn my leg then pool on the bathroom floor in one spot
Drip drip drop
I lock the door so i wont be caught
Drip drip drop
I lock the foor so i wont be stopped
Drip drip drop
I look at my leg this is for my flesh as i carve n F
Drip drip drop
This is for the ******* remarks in place i carve an A
Drip drip drop
Im done with being called an idiot accedentally so i carve an I
Drip drip drop
For everyone who called me a looser or laughed i carve an L
Drip drip drop
People who made me feel useless this is for you as i carve a U
Drip drip drop
This is for those who made me realize what i am so i carve an R
Drip drip drop
This ones for me the last letter i carve an E
Drip drip drop
I lay in the tub watching the water run red replaying FAILURE over and over in my head
Corlene Beukes Aug 2015
it starts slowly.
drip. drip. drip.
cells stand in line.
drip. drip. drip.
thoughts pack their things.
drip. drip. drip.
air collects its children.
drip. drip. drip.

the opening in front them,
like a gaping wound,
beckons and gleams.

cells, thoughts, air
stumble against
the throngs of others.

it stops slowly.
drip. drip. drip.
cells leave their line.
drip. drip. drip.
thoughts lose their luggage.
drip. drip. drip.
air abandons its children.
drip. drip. drip.
Chalsey Wilder May 2014
Drip drip
I'm lying in bed
It's freezing cold
With only a thin blanket to cover me

Drip drip
There's a window right beside me
The sun is rising
I can feel the light on my skin, but it gives me no warmth

Drip drip
I'm me
Then I'm my other me

Drip drip
I am so cold I no longer shiver
My lips are blue
My skin pale white porcelain
My body is stiff
Can't move

Drip drip
The heat from my body leaves me with every exhale

Drip...drip
I can't feel my body

Drip....drip
My eyelids close slowly
I'm sleepy

Drip.....drip
Am I dead?
Cause I can't feel a thing


Drip......drip
I can still hear the water dripping

Drip.......drip
I can't feel myself breathing

*
Thump Thump Thump
Cold death's door is waiting
I hear no dripping
I hear it no more
You would have to read my poem "When lamination" to get the line when I said "I'm me
Then I'm my other me"
But I hope you like this.
c;
Drip
Drip
Drip
The tap was dripping again
Drip
Or so she thinks
Drip
She rolls her eyes
Drip
Drip
Walking into the kitchen
Drip
Drip
Putting her bag down
Drip
Drip
Drip
She calls to her child
Drip
Drip
Drip
She calls again
Silence
She moves to the stairs
Silence
Silence
She calls again
Silence
Silence
Silence
She walks upstairs
Drip
She opens the door
Drip
She sees nothing
Drip
Drip
She searches the house
Drip
Drip
She finds no one
Drip
Drip
Drip
She walks toward the attic stairs
Silence
She opens the Door
Silence
Silence
She turns on the light
Silence
Silence
Silence
She looks up

Drip

She screams
Jesus Johnson Nov 2017
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It’s almost soothing to listen to the nothingness.
Is this what death feels like?
The final release of all of your problems and responsibilities.
Is it really this peaceful?
No. There’s something....missing.

Drip. Drip. Drip.
There’s nothing here.
No comfort, no acceptance.
Just empty space as I look out into the black.
How did I not see it sooner?
This place is maddening.
Where has everyone gone?
Where is the love? The joy?

Drip. Drip. Drip.
Happiness is a facade.
A wall easily broken through only to find the truth.
Darkness, loneliness, hatred, regret.
Why am I like this?

Drip. Drip. Drip.
I wish I could go back to innocence.
I wish I was beautiful.
Why am I not beautiful?
I never chose to be a hideous monster.

Drip. Drip. Drip.
Why am I not white?
Never accepted for not being pure.
Always leaving dark handprints on the fair skin of this earth.
Polluting the air every time I exhale.
I’m disgusting in the eyes of the clean.

Drip. Drip. Drip.
What is this noise?
Oh. I see. There’s little time left.
The blood no longer pours out like a fountain.
Just drips likes a broken faucet.

Drip..........drip.
There’s not much time.
Lucy is close, hands extended.
Ready to grasp me into his mighty hands.
I feel myself slipping.

Drip.....................drip.
I want you to know I did my best.
I’m done struggling. I’m ready.


Drip...................................drip.
....
...
..­
.

Drip.

Death.
That’s all there is in the end.
I’m empty.
johnny solstice Jun 2019
( this work is livicated to the six children who will die
in the so-called "third-world in the time it takes to read it)

Drip, drip, drip says the stand-pipe
in the shanty town
as the young mothers gather round
plastic containers on the ground
listening to the drip, drip, drip
of life ebbing away

the riverbeds have all dried up
the wells are mineshafts to the past
the irrigation channels of their *******
are polluted now by the Cuckoo's Nest

the powdered-milk...the dust-bowl fields
the quotas met......the land reveals
the hand that rocks this cradle
is the one who lays the table
with "third-world" debt their able
to rob and **** and disable

as the dehydrated bodies blow away like ashes
the multi-national faschists........
        with vampire banks decashes
the breast-milk of the masses
witha ****** drip, drip, drip

from the ******* of the mothers
the corporations smother....
      the babies in their sleep
the cuckoo comes as a thief
with a free sample and a brief
case full of deceipt............

may I make a suggestion?
"ASK SOME QUESTIONS"

As you eat your chocolate
and drink your coffee
and smear ice-cream on your lovers body
and NESTLE down to the land of noddy
to dream of countless trucks and lorries
ferrying the cow-juice and the slurry
burning the forests in such a hurry

more cattle and cash and burn and $lash
leaves a gaping ****
in the dried-up flesh of Mother Earth
and 4000 babies every year
yes 4000 babies every year
return to the DUST....
BOWL..............BREAKFAST BOWL
CEREAL BOWL..........SERIAL KRIME
CORN and MILK spells CORPORATE CRIME
dished up for your childrens belly
in front of telly-tubby tellies





Chocolate bars and candy treats
robbed from the swollen teats
of mutated udders
whilst the cow's baby brothers
are herded into crates
and served on rich mens plates
the mothers stand and wait
and listen to the rate
        of the DRIP
                 DRIP
                  DRIP
of spilt milk down the drain
the governments explain
and bury their shame
under mountains of grain
and excess champagne

and if you BEG
you get Easter eggs instead
served up by the "head"
whose saviour bled
with a steady DRIP
                  DRIP
                  DRIP

and I scream and jelly
and biscuits and cakes
make bovine mistakes
and cheesy diseases
from the milk that turns sour
reminds us every hour
of this KATTLE KULTURE HERESY
of babies dying constantly
with a DRIP
         DRIP
         DRIP
This was written in the 1990s against Nestle and their practice of giving free formula to new mothers in areas of the world where access to clean water were rare leading to many infant deaths
Carley Aug 2014
Drip drip drip
Goes the IV
Into my arm and
Into my brain

Drip drip drip
Goes my eyes
Salt water streaks
And my ears ring

Drip drip drip
Goes the wrists
Blades colored red
And slits bleeding sadness

Drip drip drip
Goes my heart
Screaming profanity
While being ripped open.

Drip drip drip
Goes the sky
Pieces polluting the ocean

As my world falls apart.*
-CsR
i understand now why some people do it—
shred their wrists so something can escape,
can breathe, can force its way out of your skin—
drip drip drip like the sink faucet that doesn’t
quite work, because at least drip drip drip isn’t
choking on the nothing you can’t say or gasping
for things you wish you could feel and it only
leaves you clawing for heartbreak with bloodied hands
and ripped fingernails like
ohgod,ohgod,air,breathe,keepbreathing,ohgod
and drip drip drip and screams that echo in your
mind like a mantra instead of tearing from your
throat and if a tree falls but nobody is around to hear it
does it still make a sound?
does it? does it?
drip drip drip like steady clockwork, but maybe not
the sane kind, just the kind that’s losing something--like
your mind or possibly blood, and you know it isn’t healthy,
it’s a sickness, a disease, a different kind of drug addiction
and the syringe needle is leaking drip drip drip until its
too late and you just drift drift drift away and your
heart explodes without oxygen but at least you feel it,
and even when you’re too far away to hear it, you know
you’re drip drip dripping.
Anonymess Sep 2017
Soft Voice, Loud Thoughts
Like the drip, drip, drip
Of a tap that won't,
No, can't get fixed.

And those words otherwise
Left unheard drip, drip, drip
With the broken tap
Allowong those Loud Thoughts,
With those Soft Voices
Their means to their end;
To shout...
Drip, drip, drip

And the shouting is not that
Shrieking, screaming
Of a child left unfed
Or a mother left mourning
But rather of those few words
Drip, drip, drip
That make their way past
A vocal cord which feels as though
It has already been ripped out

A vocal cord ripped out by those
Loud Voices with Soft Thoughts,
With rough hands and rougher tongue
Who use and abuse their words
Like everything else they've  thrown away.
Drip. Drip. Drip.

And so Loud Thoughts with Soft Voices
Are made to feel obsolete
In a world of shrieking, screaming, shouting!
Drip! Drip! Drip!
But Loud Voices with Soft Thoughts
Would rather shout at brick walls
Than... Breathe...
       And then so ... what's the point?

Those Loud Thoughts with Soft Voices
Sooner or later begin to deafen themselves
With the Soft Thoughts of Loud Voices
And that drip, drip, drip
Of Soft Voices with Loud Thoughts
Rushes and Gushes with the shrieking,
Screaming and shouting
At brick walls.

Can you still feel your vocal cords?
Inspired by the drip, drip, drip of a broken tap and that of careless words left to linger
Relle Apr 2017
Drip drip drip
Rain cascades your window
With swirling patterns
Running down and across
Drip drip drip
Droplets of water in your sink
Echoes throughout the room
As you quietly listen
With eyes looking dazed ahead
Drip drip drip
Waterfall flowing through
Hands lightly brushing the floor
Head resting softly
Body floating lightly
Drip drip drip
You swim away aimlessly
In your own red sea
Drip drip drip
One drop two drops to three
Drip drip drip
On the tub to the floor
From your lined wrists
Leaking of red sea
As it Echoes
Drip drip drip.
johnny solstice Jun 2019
these words are dedicated to the six children who will die in the time it takes to read them in the so-called “third-world” (due to the practices of Powdered Baby Milk manufacturers)  



Drip, drip, drip says the stand-pipe

in the shanty town

as the young mothers gather round

plastic containers on the ground

listening to the drip, drip, drip

of life ebbing away



the riverbeds have all dried up

the wells are mine-shafts to the past

the irrigation channels of their *******

are polluted now by the Cuckoo’s Nest



the powdered-milk…the dust-bowl fields

the quotas met……the land reveals

the hand that rocks this cradle

is the one who lays the table

with “third-world” debt their able

to rob  and disable



as the dehydrated bodies blow away like ashes

the multi-national fascists……..

with vampire banks decashes

the breast-milk of the masses

with a ****** drip, drip, drip



from the ******* of the mothers

the corporations smother….

the babies in their sleep

the cuckoo comes as a thief

with a free sample and a brief

case full of deceit…………



may I make a suggestion?

“ASK SOME QUESTIONS”



As you eat your chocolate

and drink your coffee

and smear ice-cream on your lovers body

and NESTLE down to the land of noddy

to dream of countless trucks and lorries

ferrying the cow-juice and the slurry

burning the forests in such a hurry



more cattle and cash and burn and $lash

leaves a gaping ****

in the dried-up flesh of Mother Earth

and 4000 babies every year

yes 4000 babies every year

return to the DUST….

BOWL…………..BREAKFAST BOWL

CEREAL BOWL……….SERIAL CRIME

CORN and MILK spells CORPORATE CRIME

dished up for your children’s bellies

in front of telly-tubby tellies



Chocolate bars and candy treats

robbed from the swollen teats

of mutated udders

whilst the cow’s baby brothers

are herded into crates

and served on rich men’s plates

the mothers stand and wait

and listen to the rate

of the DRIP

DRIP

DRIP

of spilled milk down the drain

the governments explain

and bury their shame

under mountains of grain

and excess champagne



and if you BEG

you get Easter eggs instead

served up by the “head”

whose saviour bled

with a steady DRIP

DRIP

DRIP



and I scream and jelly

and biscuits and cakes

make bovine mistakes

and cheesy diseases

from the milk that turns sour

reminds us every hour

of this CATTLE CULTURE HERESY

of babies dying constantly

with a DRIP

DRIP

DRIP
Saint Ozz Apr 2014
Drip drip drip
The sunset cracked the surface of her permafrost heart
Drip drip drip
The candlelit feast fed the flames of the passion denied
Her heart as fossil frozen away and yet the smell of summer experienced
Seeped deep into her countenance and so it was the melting of the snowman
Drip drip drip
His touch pierced the outer wall
Her lips freed to his drip drip
Her hands held in passion drip drip
The melting of a permafrost heart
A little from the edges freed then more and more breaking fee
To beat free from bonds of frigidity
And so the ice melted piece by delicate piece
The woman fossilized, the man rebuilt in heat of a summer.
A short poem about letting ago, you know releasing the sphincter a little
I stopped.
My feet rested on the cool cement, and I listened.
Every tree, every bush, was whispering.
It started as a murmur, and grew.
Soon it was as if every forest in the world was talking, talking, whispering, whispering.
The voices faded for a moment, but it was not silent, for someone else was speaking.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.
The rain was speaking to me.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.
No, it was not speaking, it was singing.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Whizz. Drip. Drop. Whizz.
All around me it was swirling and falling and rising again to continue the song.
The trees had joined the song again.
Now it was as if they shouted their song with the rain.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Then, in a moment, the heavens broke open and a downpour of music flooded the earth where I stood.
The music ran.
It danced.
It rushed under my feet and all around me it sang.
I looked down at my feet and saw they were moving.
I looked up and the world swirled around me again and again.
I was dancing.
The rhythm of the music moved me with the waters and I flew with it.
I whirled around and around and around.
My heart flew with the music.
Through the whispering trees, through the rain in the air.
I danced and danced, unashamed and unaware of the world around me.
And then, as quickly as it had started, it began to stop.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop.
Drip. Drop.
Phoebe Taylor Mar 2013
Drip… drip. The endless soundtrack of that leaky faucet,
Drops of water waste away, minutes trickle by.
Melted wishes flow on down, those pipe dreams only that.
Drip… drip. They all collect in that sea of broken promises.
Drip… drip. The Pacific, the Atlantic, they are dwarfed by this, the broken ocean.
Drip… drip. The waves do not crash, the storms do not roar, they do not recycle this endless sea.
Drip… drip. No ship has ever dared sail, for none will come running back.
Drip…drip. Not a ripple above, but a wail from below, those hopes just don’t want to let go.
Drip… drip. Maybe there’s a girl up there… maybe a boy… maybe they’ll go fishing, maybe they’ll brave a sail on that lonely river.
Drip…drip. Maybe they’ll care to mend piece of that broken ocean.
Drip… drip. Maybe. Maybe someday, someone will come. Maybe someone with know-how, and some brains to match it up. They’ve got to have a heart, but maybe… someday.
Drip… drip. But for now, we just listen to the soundtrack, of that leaky faucet.
Adlin Munirah Oct 2018
Drip drip,
Droplets of blood trickling,
Drip drip,
Tears of pain falling,
Drip drip,
Sweat forming all around my body,
Drippy drip,
The horrendous pain is coming,
Drip drip,
I can only lie down grieving,
Drip drip,
My skin feels itchy all around my body,
Drip drip,
It's just a few hours when it's starting,
Drippy drip,
Blood boozed out wildly,
Drippy drip drip,
It's the time of the month again.
It's basically about period pain.
Kendall Seers Mar 2018
Drip drip drip
goes the tap
screaming fills the room
a rush of feet
the dripping continues
join us join us
echo the ghosts
of my grandmother’s past

Drip drip drip
It just won’t stop
Just as suddenly as it began
Screaming fades abruptly
entering softly
my hairs stand on end
haunting my dreams
for the rest of my nights

Drip drip drip
there she lies
hair white
mouth wide
a terrified look
frozen in her eyes
eternally
indelible is the sound of the tap
going
Drip
Drip
drip
An old school poem, based on a Malorie Blackman ghost story by the same name.
Scotty B Dec 2012
Focus...
Focus...
Focus!
What?
Okay,
What is this?
The walls,
The bloodied white walls.
Are we okay with this?
My feet,
What the HELL is at my feet?
I can't see with all this ******* white light.
This shimmering white light.
Are we okay?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
Clocks on the walls?
Focus...
Focus!
What?
Open your eyes,
Quick!
QUIET!
What's that crawling on the walls?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
Are these...
Molecules!
Okay.
Okay.
Focus...
Just focus.
I think I'm missing.
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
Someone should turn down these lights,
Before I lose my minds.
Where did I even find the time?
Focus...
Focus...
Focus!
My hair;
It's gone!
Who took my ******* hair?
Focus on the paranoia,
Focus on the paranoia,
Focus on...
What's in our leg?
I can feel it,
I can grab it,
Got it!
What the **** is that?
Is that...
Water?
Well, how do you do kind sir?
Why, Water, you can talk!
Well, how do you do kind sir?
Why, Water, you can ****!
Well, how do you do kind sir?
Why, Water, you can dance!
Well, how do you do kind sir?
Why, Water, you can prance!
Do you like my clocks on the walls?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
How about my filaments in your head?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
How about the nightmares we've had?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
How about the wettings in bed?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
Welcome,
Welcome,
Welcome,
To the Dead!

Drip, drip, drip, drip...
*Drop
PH Jul 2011
Through that hole in the roof,
devoid of tar and shingle, I
                                              drip.

From that shower head
that needs just a wrench twist, I
                                                      drip,
   ­                                                   drip.    
    ­                                                            
That­ patch on the driveway,
beneath the car, just tuned up, I
                                                      drip,
   ­                                                       drip,
    ­                                                   d r i p.

In the back of a dream,
that stirs us to wake, I
                                     drip,
                    ­                               drip.

When that old dog only
gets older, sicker, I
                                drip,
                         ­                   drip.

Where nose ends and
cheeks turn into chin, I
                                       drip.

On the counter top a bottle- tipped,
chipped. I can't recall, but I
                                               drip,
                                                drip.
­
Overflowing and fraught with guilt,
a kettle of doubt, one carelessly spilt, I
                                                               drip,
                                                          ­    drip,
                                                      ­       **d r i p.
revised slightly 11/2/11
The Tom who died
filled me with life

for he was alive.

A walking, glowing candle

He shined his light on me.

A morphed, spent pool of wax I was-
looking up to see

What life could be.

He tipped his tall shaft

and

drip, drip, drip, drip.

I was truly taller.

His light was beautiful

but he was tall, I was small.

drip, drip, drip, drip.

His presence made me rise.

drip, taller, drip, taller

he built me with every drip

until

I was as tall as him.

Fading was his
beautiful light

level with my tip.

drip, drip, drip, bump.

He tipped me just a bit.

And breathed into my tip

a flame

as beautiful as his.

Fading, fading
out he went.

His glowing fire of life
is now in me.

Looking down below,

I see a pool of
spent out wax.

drip, drip, drip, drip.

The Tom who died lives on.
James LR Dec 2017
drip
       drip
               drip

The sky is blue they say

      drip
drip
      drip

My soul is full of rain

I feel it's steady drum
I hear it's quiet sigh

The water clears my eyes.
No longer am I blind.
I see this land of misery,
The way it's meant to be.

Don't want to feel the sun again,
For my soul is filled with rain.

Go and play in your sun,
Don't mind me, have fun!
I'm feeling kinda dreary, so

I'll drip and
drip and
     drip and
drip and

I don't want to be a desert,
I don't want to be a flood.
I was made to be a raincloud,
Dripping just because.

Don't want to see the sun again,
My soul is filled with rain.
I'll drip and drip and drip and drip
and with each drop I'll sing.

drip
    drip
drip
Kirk Thomas Jul 2010
It's dark and cold and wet
Sound of constant dripping
A puddle in the darkness
Being pummeled constantly
The sound echoing
Giving sensation of more than one
I shiver, pull my rags about me
Pitch black blankets my eyes
Dependent on ears for knowing
Drip, drip, drip
Echoing like a tired song of ghosts
I cringe in a corner
Feel the dampness against my back
Drip, drip, drip, drip
The sound bellowing through the darkness
I thought I'd found sanctuary
In the solitude of darkness
The ghost song continues
Drip, drip, drip
Thought this a place of refuge
But now has me gripped with fear
Wanted security from the night
Thought I'd found it
Drip, drip, drip
The eerie song goes on
Fear has me paralyzed
Couldn't escape if I tried
Which way is out?
I can't think
The song distorting my mind
A crazed grin pierces my lips
Teeth bared like uneven gravestones
The madness of the ghost's song
Has fevered me inside
I start to sing
Drip, drip, drip, drip
This is a reoccurring nightmare I have had throughout my life.
(C) Copyrighted Kirk Thomas 2009/09/18
Josh May 2013
The caricature of a drip.
Defining in it the sum of a short existence. A life.
Wet and alive and pendulously hanging.
I stare up from the caged depths, my eyes eagerly alive
as it drips down in a cascading spiral
less destructively than I have dripped.
A drip to know and to watch like the T.V. (that's never off).
To see the freedom in its fall.
But once dripped, dies alone. Ripped out.
Disconnected from the unsurviving cloud.
Unpoured, it seems, I murmer out loud.

I watch another drip. My reflection watches back, I'm sure.
I wish for it to break, so I can close my eyes
and hold, for a moment, a friend. A life.  
And to feel the dependence of the drip's lullaby.

Does nothing more than a drip make sense?
I gasp as they escort my back.
And does it listen when I tell it of my life
before it drips out of me like freedom in fashionable attire?
Redder than the red-lipped mouth of a liar
concerned with "family matters" and saying "sign here".
Lies that drip out of them like foolish wars.
Or the painted affections for a newborn child.
Oh such terribly dreadful dripful lies they are.

Down. Down. Down.

I'll fall down the endless corridor away from them all.
And drip beneath the cementum cracks of the floor.
I'll hide with my drip.
I'll drip with my drip.
I'll sip it a bit. Bitter, but I sleep better, I think as I slip away.

Drip. Drip. Drip.
Even after I'm gone.
Port Rose Oct 2013
Drip drip drip
want and plan and
prepare and wait,
overthinking can get you far,
into insanity

moving so fast theres too much to do,
so little time, so what do you do?

nothing

how long has it been
i cant figure out time
i cant figure out me
or the cheat cods to live right,
and im frustrated i can't finish
too many thoughts in too little time

all this and the next drop hasnt even fallen yet

drip
oh there
drip drip drip
a.n.- i know it doesnt make much sense, kind of composed hastily you see, trying to jot down thoughts in real time, i supposed the drops could be a unit to measure the time, hopefully it will come across the way it was intended
Matthew Rowe Aug 2010
Drip, Drop, Drip Drop,
The bucket sloshes,
The old woman kneels
To clean the threshold
of the ones she serves

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop,
The bucket sloshes
She thinks on her past
And her life and her hopes
her dreams, her last
husband long gone
her friends who’ve been near
her enemies who’ve hurt her,
those she holds dear

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop
The bucket sloshes,
She washes away
She sets herself to work
and begins to pray

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop
The bucket sloshes,
As she moves down the hall
Her heart, it labors,
as she scrubs at the floor
the billows of her breath
begin to bore
into her hands
she can work no more
she needs a small break
to labor without work

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop
She weeps for those who have not drawn near,
For those who are hurting, and lonely, and fear
She will stay forever, in her master’s doorway,
She would rather die, than never have stayed

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop,
The bucket sloshes,
her made clean heart aches,
is comforted by
a sovereign king’s ways
trials and terrors and toil and sin
good he has planned,
don’t let uncertainty win

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop,
The bucket sloshes,
She goes back to work
To labor and love,
The last to the first
Ps. 84:10-12
Sally Soe Sep 2012
I want to write something
anything
whatever comes out
to express something
anything
to accompany me
no form
no restrictions
the way I see
life because
I can
rain drop
drip drip
drip drip
drip drip
drip
drip
Can I move on?
without moving
Can I start
over?
Without leaving
drip drip
Shin Aug 2015
There was a howl, as the faucet began to drip drip drip, and the creaks of a house built too long ago stretched her weary bones as the faucet proceeded to drip drip drip, and a man and a woman held on tight, this memory being just a glimpse, as the faucet kept up its drip drip drip, and a child cried as his toe was stubbed, and still the faucet dripped dripped dripped, and the family fixed it, and so it stopped, and grey was in season as the winter grew near, and the house was empty, and the family was gone, and yet the faucet again began to drip drip drip.
Hailey A Carlson Sep 2013
Drip I'm happy
Drip I'm sad
Drip I think I'm going mad
Drip you're here
Drip you're gone
Drip everything is going wrong
Drip I'm alone
Drip I fear
Drip I love you whispered in my ear
Drip that love has disappeared
Drip a beautifully sight
Drip an unfortunate plight
Drip regrets
Drip memories
One more drip
And theres nothing left
gray rain Jun 2016
It started raining
drip
drip
drip
then the flood comes in
drip
drip
drip
destroying everything
drip
drip
drip
puddles forming
drip
drip
drip
the rivers bursting
drip
drip
drip
then nothing.
van Young Feb 2018
On a quiet night when You have time
I wanna share something with You that’s been on My mind
Luv You up drip drip drop
Luv You up drip drip drop

After a relaxing rub to soothe Your day
I just can’t wait to hear You say
Luv Me up drip drip drop
Luv Me up drip drip drop

Everything that’s good to You
That’s what we’re gonna do
Luv You up drip drip drop
Luv You up drip drip drop

I feel the need to fly thru Your ticks of time
And melt / float into Your warm and fuzzy sublime
I feel the need to lick You from Your head to Your feet
After living love and feeling love and willing luv -
we will have to buy new sheets
Hold me tight
Hold me tight
Hold me tight deep inside - squeeze Me
Taste the flood of luv flowing free

A seven course dinner is not enough
You deserve a luv without the b. s. fluff
Luv You up drip drip drop
Luv You up drip drip drop

Your body’s screaming out My name
The Angels in Heaven will never be the same
Luv You up - Luv You up - Luv You up

You’re so sweet I just hafta - - - -
Let it explode like Mount Shasta - - - -
Let Me drink forever at Your loving cup - - - -
Let Me in, let Me in, wrap Me up - - - -
Mary Frances Oct 2017
'Drip, drip, drip, drop'
goes the Rain

'Drip, drip, drip, drop'
my tears with pain

'Drip, drip, drip, drop'
then my heart breaks

'Drip, drip, drip, drop'
Please stop the ache
TheCat'sMeow Feb 2014
Drip, drip, drip.
Her tears hit the ground.
She cries out for help,
But you can't hear a sound.

She looks far and wide
For someone who'll listen.
She opens a drawer, and inside
Sees a glisten.

For the first time in her life,
She felt unafraid,
As she stared at that knife
And the glisten of it's blade.

She found her life's solution
The moment she found that blade.
It could end the persecution
And the hate they all conveyed.

As she stared at her reflection,
Looking back was all the pain.
There was an instant connection
Between the sharpness and her vein.

She pulls in her final breath
Then slowly pushes it out.
The best thing for her is death,
And she knows that without a doubt.

Drip, drip, drip.
Her blood hits the ground.
They'll all start to care
Once the body is found.
Eyal Lavi Aug 2017
NOTE:  this is the 1st poem I wrote and posted on HePo. I've managed to finish the first 2 parts and have been struggling with the 3rd; however much of last night was spent refining this initial section so I figured I'd post it in the hopes of receiving some constructive feedback. Thanks.
                                              -E.Lavi

                    ***

Dripdripdripdrip drip as it slips all it’s secrets, secrets slipped from the lip of the rusty metal moldy faucet, water whispers water whimpers water wishes of a time long gone; dripping water ever swirling round the beaten bolted sink; bolted to a wooden floor, chipped and nicked and cracked but grips, it grips the sink and won’t let go.

Secrets swirling round the sink into the void and through the pipes beneath the wooden boards of floor which would let loose their life-long grip of one worn weathered tired tethered reddish tinted rusty sink if only it - the wood! - if it could leave the floor it; the wood would stand and stretch and scratch and then would walk right out the door; wooden boards held hostage by a layered web of iron nails nailed years ago.

Creaking boards tell tales to pipes which snake throughout the secret house; Drip they drip they speak they slip through lips of sinks the secrets silent lip they drip and slip andio they rip and drip andrip they drip they dripdrip they ripipip i i…

Hush the whisper of the wind through broken windows rattles timber breaks the slumber of the man whose face is etched and leathered ever marked by hands of time; time played games the game of life the old man thought and thinks he still can stand and stretch and scratch then walk straight through the door and out the house, like secrets lost in rusty pipes he thinks he’ll walk into the dark and be whisked off on wings of wind which carries whispers rattles windows speaks in drips through rusty lips of bolted sinks gripped by the floors forever more and so the man will sit he sits and thinks and thinks he drips and drips drips dripdripipip i i i...

End Part 1
1st poem any thoughts?

— The End —