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Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Exhausted, drained of all energy,
Seeking to fill this void with life that will fit.
The pain and drudgery of all has become almost too much to bear.
My soul screams out for change and relief.

Eyes closed in torment, wounds bleed with frustration and contempt;
Closed in a jail, a circle that never ends.
Life without living it has become; entombed within this existence
Isolated and alone, I have been left to die.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
GreenTrees May 2017
In the dry cracked walls
Behind the dry rot
Below the slithering bellies

Where the earth turns death into life.

Soothed by the warmth of decay.

Tendrils of sorrow reaching deeper

Into that place in side my soul that has died

Where I silently scream breathlessly.

Time has stopped and the hands of time cover her face
Timidly peering out,
To one day see the sun again
Why is it so hard to breathe
with feet planted on dry land?
What chains itself tight in
our throats?
Can you flee until your limbs
Can you run from the raindrops
before they fall?
Maybe one day the sun will shine
on a candid smile
Maybe on day we won't feel as if we
are tossed about in dark waters
And maybe, one day, we will feel at home
on dry land.

-Esther L. Krenzin-
This earth is such a foreign yet familiar place.
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
You say stop and I say go
It's the little voices that tell me so
You say yes and I say no
But I hate it when you have to go
I can't think straight but that's okay
I don't have much to say anyway

I'm important and you are too
There's got to be something we can do
Do you like to drive around?
We can listen to what you want to
I'm bored and I don't care
Responsibilities give me nightmares

I say love and you say hate
Hate is easy but love is fate
We talk philosophy and time and space
When passion's real it shows in your face
I'm too tired to even try
The rain is nice but my bed is dry
serena Jan 26
people tell me i’m beautiful when i sleep
like an angel at rest
my only secret is
i forget to take my makeup off.
jcl Dec 2018
like a fool
i go to the well
hoping for water
knowing there is none

once, it was a spring
gushing from the ground
water sweet and pure

like a fool
i built a dam
to hold the water
and it spilled over

like a fool
i dug a hole
built a well
the water slowed
clouded and salted

the water ceased
the well dried
the spring died

like a fool
every morning
i go to the well
wishing, wishing there was water
Still Crazy Jun 24
drrry spells

~for the r in all of us~

a normanative condition, a kitchen condiment, an un-relished
I’m-in-a-pickle relish, when there in no hot **** dogged doggedly poem perspiration in the fridge or anywhere to be found; nothing but a top sliced bun, ah, plain buns, old stale dog ones is all ya got left for dinner, during one of them there drrry spells that
no blonde tanned unweathered weatherperson ever
forecast correctly

Normanative? Oh yeah.

the tyranny of the white, white bread, the white, whittle ya down screen, couture-cold water from tap direct, neck bent, jugged to try and fail to wash down that lumpen ball of dog fur brain drain clog that’s backing up the paper words, in a stomach churning brine holding you back from reaching the top of the Mt. Everest,

rite Normanative?

Normanative.Oh yeah. Son of Norma and Normally.
It’s in the bibell, look it up!

she-he is my pooka, (nope, uh-uh, look it up) a six foot tall rabbit,
climbing up my brain stem, strategically strangling my words like
a flea killer collar round my neck, one that actually visually works,
my flea bit words fall to the floor, to live with the dust mites descendants of the ole south, drafts and rejection letters, all whose blessed memory may never die etc. etc.

that was the condition of my normanative condition when I dropped in (yup, look it up),

Norman sarcastically asking, how’s the weather up there,
any rain in that-northern-brain, down here it’s as dry as an southern old dog porch panting in Jewlie, breathiny out summer hottie poems, write out like it’s crazy going out of style, oh yeah, forgot
you don’t speak dawg that well.

so I don’t know nothing about your drry spells, just climb into
the hottest hot tub, staying all the summer months if necessary,
reading old poems about busted hearts, old dogs, unrealized loves that can’t be forgot, promises kept that one never made, other curses,
battlefields of yore, sweatin’ out the toxins till r
sends along a new one, rocking my toenails to my disbelieving eyes,
for I’m a mentally patient person,
whose never seen a drrry spell so long, that was not worth
wading thru, waiting for, till something busted out and
another thunderstorm of a literary good one, errr come along

like I said, I’m a mental patient man, still crazy after all these years...
(yup, that too, you could look it up if ya made this far)
Egeria Litha May 6
I am raining
the sky is too
the ink is blotting on this letter to you
dark clouds consume light blue
shooting stars hibernate
as I wish for you
Yanamari Jul 2018
Not even a chance to say the basic
Stopped me mid-sentence before I could ask
Raised your barriers and pushed me away, unable to
Called you a million times and now my eyes are
If this was to be the outcome, that first time we met, I wouldn't have said

Or so I say,
When I have a feeling why you would lie
Pulling off a stunt to raise the barriers high
But these barriers aren't around me
They're around you
So please, don't make these barriers your way of saying
I don't even know what to feel...
Daniel Feb 17
A dead flower - that´s what I am.
Nobody thought about what I needed
and nobody wanted to waste their time.
And now that I dried to death,
they´re trying to save me
but they´re drowning me instead.

It was dry
Hot and humid
Dusty and nasty

It rained
Cool and wet
Soothing and cozy.
Muted Aug 2018
i used to be
fond of that
light trickle,
that subdued
of rain,
the calming
sensation of
my spirit

i relished the
thought of a
grayscale sky
wrapping its arms
ever so gently
around me,
found comfort
in slick surfaces
and symphonies
in thunderous echoes

now, rain feels heavy,
feels like
i become
the bucket you
search for
when the
ceiling leaks,
like the air
is far
too dense
for my lungs
to handle,
like the rain
isn't really rain
when it
pours out of me

I used to be
fond of
rainy days
because they
remind me
of you

yet here,
i desperately
long to be
Ashley Kaye Jun 30
I feel as if Life
has run me dry.
Its vast Opportunity,
my Inaction,
the last oasis

Now they, dry bones
Brittle hulls of beetles
scuttle amid sameness
We starve
for color
not dripping in red.

Nothing much thrives
In these hills
Natural word poem the 3rd. June 2019
CK Baker Feb 2017
late night by the holland sill
white framed and frilled
alongside the meadow
down by the grand
where cat fish
and cow pies
and silly yellow bees
make their stay

there are swings now
and empty barns
(with quiet corners
and broken walls)
echoing chambers
that speak of the past
...and little dogs
not big ones

the plaster cracks
and wheat sways
from a warm west wind
it’s about time
for that late afternoon pour
you know how it cleans the soul
old percy would say

and flanders
(the holder of those pigs)
who fed us good
with sow and milk
as we plowed the
dusty fields
into the
hot summer sun

i can still hear the screams
of river dreams
the grand slams
and flints run dry
the barks
and breaks
and bends
a world past
with forbes
and dolls
and crab apple trees

think i’ll take a trip
up the back lane
they’ve cut the brush
and opened the line
Murakami Jan 30
Traffic lights spread across the Opal sky
He held my face; his gentle, warm palms, magnetic on my skin
Fervorous glow embraced my chest
From beat to beat, my heart bled into the fog.

Leaning his forehead against mine,
I felt my conscience blending with his skin
A synthesis of feelings, an ocean of colours.
his lips find mine, heat rippling across my face
Cloudy breaths caressed my skin
This time, the sky didn't blend with tears.
This night, the lights were dry.
Who knew behind the subway staircase could be so romantic?
Kanishka May 12
Do you sometimes feel so sad
That ground beneath your feet disappear?
That your heart strings break?
That your mouth goes completely dry?
That your eyes can't even shed a tear?
Don't do this to me again god...don't
Tompson May 1
I loved you with all my tears
Even though you always judge me
You said that you meant well
But you love taste now like hell
And hell used to be fun
I'm dry
The tears has now gone
I realized
My cigarettes taste better
than your lips
In my mouth.
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