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ThePoet Oct 2015
The innocence in your
nature robbed you 
of all that you ever had

Your pure intentions 
always left you lost
and misunderstood

You used to be a good 
person afraid of all
that was deemed bad

But now you’re a bad
person afraid of all
that was deemed good
Robin Lemmen Jul 2018
She is a lovely thought to be had
And makes you oh so mad
When she smiles at you
With big green eyes of genuine care
But don't you know a fantasy
Can never match up to reality
It is hard when she is so beautiful
In your mind, where you take her
To bed each and every night
Lay down her perfectly carved body
Tracing lines and taking her to the edge
Dipping down low to taste her sweet love
Until reality takes you by the hand
Leads you back home
Far, far away from her
Em Glass Apr 2013
it wasn't snowing yet, but they'd told us it would.
probably I said something infantile, about how
I could smell it, the frostiness of snowflakes in the
air, because you smiled that knowing smile of yours,
like you were an adult and i was a child and you
didn't have the heart to take my innocence away.

that look always made my heart smile, sadly, and
it also drove me up a wall, partly because it made
me want to hug you close and pity you the
burden of assumed moral superiority, and whisper
that you, too were a child. but mostly because you
were right— I clung to my naiveté while you, you
had already had the good sense to push it away.
it followed you around with sad puppy eyes, but
you knew it and you kept it at arm's length.
you brave, brave soul.

when it did start to snow I wasn't surprised. you
were. you didn't say anything. we were in
a deserted school hallway, listening, removed
from the other kids' cries. we were
delighted too, but the others wanted to run home
early, and we knew the definition
of home better than they. and I can speak only for
myself but it seemed we both wanted only to stay
forever side by side, tucked away in our corner,
me reveling in the softness of love and friendship
and winter, you trying to be there with me but having
trouble leaving your mind, where that sad-eyed
puppy snapped at your heels. it whimpered
but you held your own.

and slowly, we built up moments like this one.
we wallowed in each other and in the coziness
of cloudy days. we read good poetry and
heard good music and took photographs as we
discussed life from our  softer world.
there were moments of such pure white happiness
that they came full circle to being sad,
simply because I knew I would never be that
happy again, and I was not wrong, and I didn't
want to be. and we had
sad moments, too, never ever think I am not
happy to be sad with you.

and slowly, too, your innocence knew its
defeat, and sat obediently at your feet,
and we shared things.
but I was a child, and a weak one at that, and
God knew I was not as strong as you so she
gave me no great suffering to speak of, to
share with you. no way to reciprocate the
vulnerability you gave, and that in
itself was suffering for me.

I regret that I was not good at saying things.
that while
you had to be your own adult and push childhood
away, I clung hopelessly to mine as
I discovered me and watched it slip
from my small hands.

among the plethora of reasons I can give for
bitterly hating sunny days is the
way the sun slanted through the window and lit
up your eyes and swilled particles around
your face like fairy dust on the day you reached
out and pulled my lanyard over your own neck.
look, you said, content. almost proud.
I'm wearing a bit of you around my
neck,
and you wove it through your
sunlit fingers, eyes bright. you tugged on it,
lightly. that's what love does, it strangles
you. and we all want it.


and I gasped at the way that word sounded,
so harsh in such beautiful sunlight on such
a soft face. but I don't want to strangle
you
. I said that. thoughtlessly,
instinctively. I regret it every day. in that regard,
you gave me a strength, but it's no german shepherd—
you are so **** strong.

when your ache tugged and tugged at you,
tore you from reality, or brought you closer to it,
it slipped its finger into that lanyard knot. loosened it.
I could have reached out right then, as you had when you
pulled the sun-soaked string over your head, and
tightened it. tightened us. been a friend.

I didn't tug the knot. if you run.
when you run,
I know that two grown dogs
will follow after you, blocked
from the sun by your receding shadow.
Tawana Sep 2018
She was just five when it happened
Small fragile and unknowing.
They used this and used her,
They abused her and bruised her.
She was five when it happened
Small, soft and innocent.
They cursed her and misused her, and this confused her.
She was five when it happened
They pursued her and accused her,
They bemused her and this amused them.
And worst of all they were excused.
Elizabeth Zenk Sep 2018
Downing glasses of boiling hot milk.
That must be why they are passed out.
Ignore the yelling that sprints through my innocent ears.
Hug your stuffed rabbit,
and go to bed.
Let the words escape through your head.
Their shouts and screams
manifest in your dreams.
no monster in your closet,
so what claws at your heart?
who tears it all apart?
Leaving you with only
ragged blue bunny,
a stack of money,
and a plan to flee from this place.
The uniVerse Aug 2016
I dream of innocence
of days long spent
beneath summers sun
a Carpenters son
and royal daughter
a Queen and a martyr
one girl one boy
eyes fuse like alloy
caught in a sudden trance
a courtship dance
loves hypnotic rituals
of star filled visuals
white lights against black night
white Knight versus black Knight
this is now a game of chess
strategizing what to do next.

Three is a crowd
how I wish he wasn't around
your first mistake
so I sit and wait
for the nightmare to be over
for my Knights mare to save her
I already know the pain she's due
it's as old as the sun, this rain isn't new
nothing washes away infidelities sinning
nothing can make them white sheets of linen
once innocence is lost like paradise
if only you took another roll at the dice
maybe fate is predetermined numbers
and maybe innocence only exists in slumber
maybe it was lost at birth
maybe it's just an ancient curse
inherited from days long ago
maybe we were never white as snow.

But still I have this martyrs cause
yet still I never really give pause
the Knight that sacrifices for his Queen
for he has already witnessed all to be seen
history repeating itself
Déjà vu sapping our health
reincarnated pain
can the black Knight ever be slain?
or is it just another side of the coin
everyone is still curtain drawing
hiding from the dark
the day that's lost its spark
black night only masks the sun
black Knight versus the Carpenters son
but white lights appear in the sky
the white night is there when we die
when our numbers finally up
when our slumber finally stops
the ending of the night
maybe we aren't really Knights
maybe we are all just pawns
so innocence can be reborn.
https://www.instagram.com/p/ByEKcNQHA_z/
Christian Bixler Nov 2018
Shifting, sand underfoot
and the moon bent
in reflected splendor, up from the sea, and from the
tresses of your hair;

black, in that time
of dreaming.

The stars,
innumerable in their glory,
wink down at
us gently as we walk,

their mysteries
disregarded.

for in your eyes
lie the sum of
their light.
This is a draft I put together in 2016 and promptly forgot about. I've edited it some, but I'm pretty sure I've just polished it up a little, meaning intact. Figured its about time it got some air.
Traveler Sep 2014
The weeping shady willow slowly swayed in the soft summer wind
Beneath of which my most vivid memory begins
By the appeal of young lust in the days of our prime
We were drawn together to this moment in time

In a meadow of dandelions our bodies embraced
As she bared her breast my heart went to race
With her eyes of blue so innocent yet wild
It was clear to see she was no longer a child

The curves of her buttocks, the shape of her hips
Were as pleasing to touch as my sister’s silk slips
As if everything I ever wanted was opened to me
To share her **** ****** body, my soul finally free

As I nosed her belly ever so lightly I felt her quiver
Lower and lower I went as it turned to a shiver
So softly I touched as her virginity flowed
I felt as if I could peer into her soul

We shared in sweet passion to a deeper degree
I gently inserted as she pulled back her knees
For a while I managed to stay in control
When she scratched down my back it was time to reload

That day with nature we were naturally exposed
For lovin’ is like music, an art to compose
Traveler Tim
re-to=02-17
Silverflame May 2016
At day you can’t see them, because they are nowhere to be found.
But when the light is out, they head to the empty playground.
For while you are surrounded by walls, in your bed dreaming.
This is the place where their childish hearts are pretending to be beating.

The seeker is covering their eyes while counting loudly to ten.
Here they get the chance to play their favorite games once again.
Fighting carelessly over plastic toys and digging in the damp sand.
It looks like a lively place to be, instead of yet another wasteland.

They are hiding in the trees, giggling. Who can climb all the way to the top?
Tiny hands are holding on to each other, spinning around until they almost throw up.
Going down the rusty red slide: some are going fast, others nice and slow.
And if they hear you coming, they’ll be gone like the first flake of snow.

Far away, you might hear a familiar sound of squeaking swings.
Laughter is echoing through the night, carried into the town by bird wings.
They are trying to evade being captured, while running in a green ocean of clover.
But the sun is lurking in the dawn;
soon their fun and games will be over.
I had such a weird dream a couple of nights ago, and it gave me inspiration to write this. And don't ask why I dream about dead children, because I don't even know why myself.
Tommy Randell Jun 2017
Used to think the world was an Orange in a black bowl -
It was a time of innocence and creativity.
Time added more fruit to my metaphor, a pomegranate, a pear -
My best friend's funeral was an Aubergine.
“That's not a fruit,” I said. Not fair. I was wrong.

My family and friends came to feed me again and again -
Peaches, Nectarines, and Strawberry goodness. Figs of wisdom.
But time ran its seasons, and innocence changed its eyes.
The world became a single blue Marble-berry in a black night – Lonely.
“Nostalgia is the taste of Childhood in a thirsty Man.”

Fruits are masquerading as Vegetables everywhere
And again and again the Bananas just sit there, ripening.
I won't. I'd rather die. Yellow is a colour that lies behind the eyes.
Google feeds me now - monochrome smoothies of knowledge.
“I pass the Turing Test every day using only a brain-pan of porridge.”

Fruit is dead of terrorism and anarchy. The more we know
The more we see sweetness and colour for what it is -
That Child in me back then he didn't understand
How just eating the Apple is a one way path down a narrowing road.
“The future presses in on every side and you cannot go forward … “

“There is all this fruit, everywhere, and no-one to tell you what to do.”

Tommy Randell 04th June 2017
I'm adding this Postscript after being asked what this 'Poem about Fruit' is really about. Well, of course it's a Poem so it doesn't have to be about anything. I would hope you find your own responses. If you want it to be about something 'clever' then of course I can give you a 'clever' answer: It is about Politics, especially here in the UK this summer 2017!
You came fast into my life
Like a roller coaster
Told me that you want me
But all you did was abusing my soul
Took my innocence
Took all my friends
Took all the good in me
Now you're gone too
Left me all alone in the darkness
My heart was shaking
When I thought about you
Now the pain is gone
Because I don't care about you.


Muhammed Emin KUŞASLAN
You can check out my other poetries from there. https://muhammedeminkusaslan.blogspot.com/
Harley Oliver Feb 2014
that familiar look in your eyes
that wakens my passion
in watching your pupils grow-
dilating into
the shape of my world

in your eyes i hide
in your shadow i find comfort
untouched by a warmth
that blends with your soul

i am weakend
by those big brown eyes
the ones that
could show me
all there is to feel &
i don't ever want to live
to see them shed a tear
Sabila Siddiqui Feb 2018
Life gave me the truth
in exchange for my youth.
Adil Zaidi Mar 2015
Neither in the vividness of the arches of a cathedral,
Nor in the dangling bells and echoing rituals of a temple,
Neither on the holiest banks of Nile or Ganges,
Nor among the peaks of the grandest Mountain,

There is no augury, there is no God, is there no God? And if there is,

Why are the eyes of lives haunted by the cruel dreams of disbelief?
Why is banishment tangled around the feet of a truth seeker?
Why the perverse thoughts and deeds ruling the Mankind?
Why the pious body and mind are today full of grief?

If there’s God, Why is this sea of cold blood on a high tide?
If there’s God, Why are the innocent lives being wasted?
If there’s God, Why are the good being handcuffed?
If there’s God, Why the darkness is today the source of light?

The slaps of violence on the face of peace is a sign of doom,
If there’s no God, then these drops of bloods cry for whom?

But GOD is that moment which is beyond knowledge and wit,

That one cipher which has taken centuries and yet not deciphered,
That one point of thought where the minds seize to think,
That one decision which stops a man from giving up,
That one drop of tear from the eyes of an Oppressed,

That one source of energy which makes us to take a stand,
That one voice of truth which demolishes the works of lie,
That one smile of innocence which equals a million shouts,
That one silver lining which makes us believe in ourselves,

Calls Aloud and makes us believe, that there is A GOD,
And He’s Everywhere, With everyone, and Will always be.
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