whatisthisplanet Mar 2016
the sailors called the sirens beautiful
they wept, tearing out their hair
and tossed it in to the ocean
turning into sea weeds.

the sailors called the sirens beautiful
who hid themselves in caves, till they passed
their skin growing pale and lifeless
till feathers emerged from their hands.

the sailors called the sirens beautiful
who mutilated their legs
and scarred their feet
so they would no longer be human.

the sailors called the sirens beautiful
the creatures wailed as loud as they could,
screeching noises, ringing
sounded only like bells to men.

the sailors called the sirens beautiful
they didn't see beauty or sin
instead,
walking vessels
and a prize to win.
I lost my original draft for this poem and had to rewrite it from my memory. Not the exact one I wanted.
Evelyn Genao May 14
"It's okay."

I can still feel it.
The way your lips touched mine.
Without meaning.
Without feelings.
I missed them.
Your kisses.
Your attention.

It hurts.

I saw it.
The way your eyes drifted to others.
Never straying to mine.
Never filled with the same spark.
Always dull.
Lifeless.
Loveless.

My heart.

You would say it.
Those three words.
Not to me.
Never to me.
To the others.
They always got your love.
I got your hate.
Your anger.
Always.

You don’t have to love me.”

You gave me orders.
Never to be near you.
Never to hold hands.
Not in public.
We did not know each other.
They would get the wrong idea.
“We are cousins,” You would say.
You were embarrassed.
To be seen.
With me.

I can’t.

I was your puppet.
You pulled the strings.
And I obeyed your commands.
You never loved.
Not me.
Never me.
I was your toy.
Something you could throw away.

Take it.

It’s all a game.
Of feeling.
Of pain.
Of love.
Of hate.
You are the king.
I’m your pawn.
Just a piece on your board.

I’m done.

I loved you.
More than anything.
I let you use me.
Hurt me.
If I got to be with you.
Nothing else mattered.
You didn’t feel the same.

No one ever does.”
I saw a prompt and this poem came to mind. I hope you love it and be sure to comment what you think. Check out my other works!!
grace snoddy Mar 30
lying awake
and looking for all of the answers
in my ceiling.

asking why
it has to be me who feels this way
               (feeling completely lifeless, and absolutely hopeless)

asking You
               “haven’t you taken enough from me?”
               “why must you haunt my dreams?”

and the only bit of light i have
comes from the streetlight by my window,
it shines on You.

and from the corner i hear You,
with a vacant and harrowing tone.
and the detached vowels and consonants
echo throughout the hallways.
they hang themselves on the wall
as a reminder.

               “they say nothing kills a man faster than his own head”.
I dreamt that they all left me in a dark night,
Tears were crawling down my cheeks,
Cold was freezing up my heart,
Wind was flying my thoughts in circles infront of my swollen watery  eyes ,
I thought happiness was finally lingered in my life,
I found out that it was waning once more,
Waving from behind those bushy trees,
I heard my peace starting to rumble,
I felt my eyes going lifeless,
I dash for happiness,
Like an addict who scurries to be drugged,
Turned out that it doesn’t always have to be in the same shape,
So places,people and old routines can’t make the pills,
for the ingredients always change.
Don’t wait till I’m laying in a casket
To tell me how you really feel
Save your tears
And the sobbing you’re doing across my lifeless chest
Quit the yelling
And the heartbroken distress you’re in
You’re only disrupting my rest
It doesn’t matter what you reveal
It won’t return the life and color to my skin
No my eyes won’t well up
From the revelation of feelings you’ve been hiding within
My face would stay as dryer as desert snow
Its way to late

— The End —