Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
sara Apr 2018
Cover up the mirrors and I'll find somewhere to look,
rip me into pieces like the pages of an old notebook,
smudge me into ink stains, stick a needle in my eye,
scribble over my mistakes and cross me out with lines.

Turn me inside out to wash and
hang me out to dry,
drown me in a dried up lake
and cool me down by fire,

spit me out like sour grapes,
then leave me like an ageing wine,
just now, I've quite the bitter taste
but I still need a little time.
Catharsis in a poem- felt very grounded after spitting this out
Tanya Feb 11
She had returned from her journey,
radiating bright, vivid
light.

Feeling better than ever.
Blooming.

Small minds
couldn’t handle
her flowers.
but the sun garden was hers to handle anyways .
spacewalker Nov 2017
Leave the past behind,
If only for tomorrow

Sprint through the stars,  
Shatter the void with your soles
                                                          
­Reality is to much to handle,
            Let go
                      Escape
Fall out of gravity's grasp and nothing can hold you back

Scream into the void of space
nothing will carry the sound

Don't go back to earth
I'm not
                                                             ­        I'm done spinning around
Callie Richter Jul 2018
they tell me to just forget about him
that i shouldn’t let someone
as dumb as him
ruin my life
they don’t understand
i’ve been trying to forget him
since february
i can’t do anything about the fact
that every time I close my eyes
i see him, feel him
he lives in my nightmares
i just want it to end
I meant to die in a bathtub
Melting
The muscles' tension

Wine,
Falling asleep
Drowning
Innocently.  Like Whitney.
There's a Heaven
And
I am waiting

For myself there.
I will always
Cherish you
island poet May 2018
“Moby ****,”  Herman Melville

<•>

~for the lost at sea~

after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence,
return to the island caught between two land forks
surrounded by river-heading flows
bound for the ocean great joining

the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools,
bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances,
peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls

sea accepts them then drowns the
warm newcomers in the unaccustomed
deep cold salinity, which
sometimes erodes
sometimes preserving
their former freshwater cold originality

I’m called to depart my beach shoreline  unarmed,
no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed,
walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom,
no depth perception limitation,
reading the floor’s topography,
millions of minion’s stories infinite,
many Munch screaming

god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders,
a daytime travel guide, hired for me,
not a friendly travel companion,  nope,
God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation,
designated for the masses, can handle large parties

my in-camera brain  eyes,
record everything for playback -
the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles

walk shore to ship, on soles to souls,
is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting?

puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness,
conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep,
is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence,
my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and
forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others

perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored,
older visions clarified and future poems
will write themselves
and sea to it my predecessors
be better remembered

Memorial Day 2018
.
...
.....She.....
.was the sun.
...and her love...
....was to powerful....
.......for you to handle.....
.............and now you............
..............are just  a  pile  of..............
.............................ashe­s............................
I'll post new poems soon ( don't worry they wont be as ****** as this one)
- I will delete this trash in the morning.
maureen Mar 7
midnight whisperings say
'i'll take care of you'
yet morning words declare
'i don't need you'.

you hold me so gently
like a new set of china—
yet pour inside me
hot, scalding, tea.
ThePoet Sep 2015
I can't handle
another death,
leaving me out here
cold and alone.

And I can't handle
another mourn,
leaving me lifeless
as a hollow stone.

I can't handle
another grievance,
letting you go to
a world unknown.

Because to save
your precious life,
I would give infinite
deaths of my own.
Words are the chemicals
Packed in vials sublime
Untouched pure in time
Their base Property lyrical

Words are the coefficients
Reactants , The Thoughts and Emotions
To balance the emotional equation
Poetic are the words omniscient

Combustible the thoughts, fragile the emotions
Handle with care , the equations
Cold storage processed, refilled
Magnanimous ,the words distilled

Thoughts never too dormant
Never static the emotions
The words a kinetic solution
Potential they have Charmant
Some thoughts  about words

Thank you all, for all your love for this particular piece, today, 28th May, this got selected as the daily!
Will soon respond to everyone, thanks and blessings!!
You taught me how to
be the princess inside a cave,
But not to build a cave
when I'm out of it.
-It’s so tough without you Vky
Jacob Aug 3
Reading people is a powerful tool
Physiognomy is a kind of unspoken art, valued in social capital.
Reading people and deep-rooted self-awareness go hand in hand, how destructive.
I fly off the handle to those close to me, sometimes even to strangers.
Formalities lasting longer than a handshake make me irritable, but we’re all guilty of it.
So fake, so deceitful.
There’s times to be well-guarded and put our masks on, but we wear them so often they plant roots in our skin.
They become a part of us and we forget to take them off.
I fly off the handle, undaunted and maybe too bold with what I let come out.
Acceptance for who I am, someone to tell me “it’s ok to be ******” isn’t what I’m looking for.

I sit here at my desk with my mask on, wanting for someone to know me.
Hollow Steve Jul 2015
Catapault me into chaos,
I wish to get a little closer.
Your tainted eyes speak to me.
I wish to get to know you,
just a little bit better.

If I can handle it,
I'll stick around and play.
Too much pain is a killjoy.
If it burns too much,
I'll blow out the fire someday.

Criss-crossdresser,
I'm seduced into your submission.
My identity remains in shambles,
I'll see you on the otherside,
as I walk through this transition.

A possible phase,
or a permanent reside?
I am lost in mindless self indulgence.
If I dance in the rain,
I'll no longer have to hide.

An eternal blue flame,
made of youth and spirit.
Love could only feed the madness.
To remain the same,
is something my mind could never inhabit.

So dance, and dance,
and sing the tunes of duality.
I experiment with composure.
And once I find balance,
my dream will be that much closer
Hunter Taylor Feb 13
Sometimes when I'm high I float
But not too far off the ground
But at times when I'm sober, I choke
I find it hard to keep the words down

Usually, it's not bad I don't even notice
Then I'm alone and it's all that I notice

These days I barely have a sober day
Afraid of the pain that doesn't exist
Lurking in the shadows barely at bay
I chased it away and yet it persists

I fight for no man yet I am fighting forever
In fear I plan yet I haven't put it together

I change on a whim and with no intent
You can't see when I see the loathing
I challenge the fact that I am spent
With a test that I myself had not chosen

Don't second guess the choice to choose
One slip of a tongue, the question is who's
He knows your strength like he does your bravery.
He know what requires of you?
As you know what's required of yourself?
The Lord gives you what you can handle?

We all have a weakness.
We all have temptation.
But the love gives you what you can handle?

If a failure happens?
It's for a reason.
We all go through a learning lesson.

But can't say it's God fought.
We all been bought with a price.
Some higher than most.

Title suggested by Chris
Tatiana Nov 2014
I'm suffocating.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle my throat closing,
no don't call 911,
there's no reason to.

I'm choking.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle the mucus that blocks my throat,
I can spit it up just fine,
so just keep on walking.

I'm coughing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle myself doubled over in pain,
with my chest hurting as I try to sit up straight,
so just ignore me hacking up a lung.

I'm breathing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle hyperventilation without my inhaler,
I don't have to breathe properly to live,
so thanks for just leaving me on the floor.

I'm dying.
But I don't need your help,
it's not like I have no energy to get my inhaler,
you can totally just run out of the room panicking,
it's not like i'm scared too or anything.

I'm angry.
And for some reason,
you can't figure out why.
So leave me alone.
I'm fine now.
I can handle myself.
I don't need your help.
I'm changing the caption 4 years later because it was very angry and I don't carry that same level of anger anymore towards that person.
Except in reference to asthma
Then I'm quite angry
Asthma *****
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2018
the angel amongst us

~for Alexander, master splasher~

flexibility is important when poetry writing in a warm tub and a long day ahead is scheduled; so willingly accept the autocorrect
for I am both an experienced poet and bath soaker and
believer in wondrous mystery and unexpected fumbles
that lead to to miracle touchdowns

~•~

the two mathematicians examine the angle, measure the degree of difference at intersection and bless it with an identity,
calling it by its name,
perhaps obtuse, perhaps right, perhaps both

two sets of eyes examine the angle,
study its ****** expression

the old man says:
see the angle on the clock formed by the big handle on the twelve and the little hand on the eight?

this is angle of eight o’clock:
time to stop the splashing and start the get-readying
for we have miles to go before the ocean can say hello!

little angel says angle no go
and slashes the water with both
hands to establish the firmness of his views
and change Einstein’s time from present to future

the angle depends on the perspective of the viewer

the old poet comprehends leaving a warm tub is a regretful thing

but he measures the degree of difference at this
intersection
of time and bath and blesses it with an identity

“time to go”

the angle of my angel is now 2 pointed arms, pointed straight up,
at the twelve o'clock,

as he stands up in fevered protest,
my arms sweep his little legs to
a point at eight o’clock,
angel, commenting on his swift flight
disputes the grandfathers physics

"no go now,
now go later^"

though the angle is unchanged
the perspective of time and space
(and traffic),
yet differs

one sees an angle,
the angel sees time
eternally folding in on itself


that is the angle amongst us
^Surprising as it may be to most non-scientists and even to some scientists, Albert Einstein concluded in his later years that the past, present, and future all exist simultaneously. In 1952, in his book Relativity, in discussing Minkowski's Space World interpretation of his theory of relativity, Einstein writes:

Since there exists in this four dimensional structure [space-time] no longer any sections which represent "now" objectively, the concepts of happening and becoming are indeed not completely suspended, but yet complicated. It appears therefore more natural to think of physical reality as a four dimensional existence, instead of, as hitherto, the evolution of a three dimensional existence.
Iskra Aug 2018
Laying in my bed curled up
Acid in my throat because I didn’t eat
Clenching my fists around my blankets because I can’t sleep

Are you thinking of me?
Laying in a tent, uncomfortably,
Snuggling close to your fluffy white dog or your younger brother to stay warm.

Are you missing me?
No. Not the way I’m missing you
You’re not thinking of me the way I’m thinking of you
And though it means the world to me that a beautiful soul like yours is friends with a storm cloud like me, it shatters my heart into thousands of sharp, jagged pieces that you’re
~ just ~
my friend.

“I’m sorry but I need to know, is it mutual? It’s alright if it’s a no, I can handle it, I just want you...to be honest”
A pause...
Then the raindrop falls.
“Right now, it’s a no”

Ripples.
Right now.
Right now.
Right now.
No.
No.
No.
STOP.
I care about you so much, I know I need to let you go, so you would never read this, and I would never show anyone this.
It’s all swirling around in my chest, faster and faster until it explodes, word ***** and tears.
I love you.

I didn’t tell you I loved you, only that I had feelings for you.
Why bother? It would’ve made things more painful for me, more bitter for you.

But I can’t show you this.
I don’t want you to change.
I don’t want you to change the way you speak to me, to change your mind when you’re about to type a heart emoji,
to stop yourself after just saying “goodnight” and leave out the “baby”

This is my undoing, not yours, and I want you to keep letting me be your anchor, your shoulder, your shield, my open arms waiting to catch you when you tumble from your flight.
I can’t keep loving you, I can’t stop loving you.
I want to stop feeling at all.
Thank you all so much for all your compassion and the amazing comments. Your kindness brought me to tears. I’d send hugs and healing (if I could) to those of you who commented because you’re experiencing the same thing right now, and I promise you, even though it hurts like hell now, it does get better.
ryn Aug 2014
Street lamps play
As they have before
Dim walkway
Leading to a door

Careful steps
Strewn leaves
Breathe between gaps
Skulking like thieves

Rustling trees
Otherwise nothing
Mind at ease
Heart rapidly beating

Usually stops here
Usually I'd stir
But still in slumber
I drew closer

Eyes on door
Familiar scene
Stood here before
This dream I've been

Up the patio
Door was ajar
Accompanied by my shadow
Stretched far

Tunnel vision
Dripping eave
Door handle beckons
Hand raised to receive

Usually stops here
Usually I'd rouse
Allowed to enter
This time... This house

Handle I seize
Door seemed light
It did not freeze
Hinges did not fight

Revealed the insides
Scanned surroundings
Unlit lights
Stairs climbing

Footsteps I heard
Coming my way
Sounds absurd
But yet I stay

Usually stops here
Usually dream is done
But still was clear
It only had begun

Darkened figure
Descending on bare feet
Beauty light as feather
Ever did I meet

She did not see me
Planted at the doorway
Impossible it may be
Nothing did she say

Walked right by
My eyes followed
Seconds fly
In eternity they burrowed

Usually stops here
Usually I'd wake
Yet still I'm here
Chance I'd take

Stood at the fridge
Back towards me
Under siege
My mind set a flurry

Fridge was opened
Light casted her silhouette
Her back darkened
Curiosity grew fat

Illuminating beams
Accentuated her hair
Like golden streams
Flowing with flair

Usually stops here
Usually I'd startle
Connection did not sever
Continue I was able

Spellbound I gawked
Rooted like a tree
Wide-eyed I stalked
This siren before me

She drank
Not knowing I was there
Stiff as a plank
I was locked in a stare

Finally broke free
Shifted my weight
She turned to me
And then said...

Then it ceased
Then I awaken
Surprisingly pleased
Slice of heaven

Who was she?
Silhouetted face
Perpetually...
Mysterious grace

Foreign albeit familiar
Strange but true
Now rings clear...


It is you...
Based on a dream I had.
zelda Jul 23
the water from the shower continues to run down. my back against the wall, trembling hands, smudged mascara on my lashes, people's eyes always imply to act proper. i will always be a   /l a d y/   but oh, i think i will never be free from their expectations. frowning face, stern behavior, bitter truth—they loathe it.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)
do witches fall in love at witching hour?

song: would i - maggie lindemann
Doug Potter Sep 2016
Don't talk to the old man
on the ladder he's likely
cleaning eavestroughs

end to end full of leaves
kite string & black
beetles

He may mumble
teetering on the rungs
but don’t interrupt work

he has enough to handle.
Deb Jones Jan 2
Taking off my worn cloak
I wore you well this past year
There wasn’t much
That we didn’t handle
While I wore you as my mantle
I fold you up
All patched and thin
Farewell my old friend
I won’t forget the comfort
You enveloped me in

My new cloak feels a little awkward
Most fledglings do
Still I am homesick...
Goodbye 2018
Next page