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On the radio the other day
I heard that song, when it would play
We said it was “our song”

And even though try as I might
The lyrics just did not seem right
In fact, they were all wrong

My mind peered back into the past
'Eternal Flames' don't always last
Tides shift before too long

A smirk of sadness came to me
Best friend became my enemy
Lives built; Destroyed and gone

But fog erased; Think of today
and tell myself that it’s okay
Through pain I will be strong

Because the radio still plays
I hold out hope maybe someday
Again, I'll have ‘our song’

Written: May 8, 2018

All rights reserved
Hisham Alshaikh Jul 2018
You laugh
Angels weep out of jealousy
Devils have no single conspiracy
Demons dancing in harmony
Men hearts go broken with no remedy
Women eyes tearing continuously
Violins break out of envy terribly
Composers have no more creativity
Music plays with no melody
Silence starts listening joyfully
Happiness laughters left in agony
Beautiful words describe nothing but misery
Tulip flowers become colorless shamefully
Believers lose their faith immediately
Infidels drop their convictions instantly
Hearts start beating rapidly
Lungs oxygenating quickly
Living ones laying listening carefully
The dead come back miraculously

--Hisham Alshaikh
You Laugh. Version 1.
Umi Dec 2017
When everything ends, an angel plays a tune
When evrything ends, there's no flower to bloom
Will everyone then be in gloom ?

But don't lose hope he hasn't blown into the horn
Lose no hope and don't **** the unborn
Gentleness and patience is what we need
So don't be sad, don't fall into greed

Cheer up and take a look at the deep sea coral reefs,
Be impressed by their beauty and their great depths,
Don't be sickened by peoples beliefs,

And remember the man who disappeared without a trail...
He was swallowed by a by a whale...
It was Jonah until he had Prayed!
"My lord is forgiving, O mighty one"
And then there was aid

So don't lose hope my dear children
There is help. So don't fret,
And please also never forget
That mama will be here for you, remembering you the moments you smiled ~

Formed of light and beauty, the angels of the lord
The gratest of the greatest who keeps his word,
Oh God, you are the highest notning can compare to you
You taught me everything I knew.

This one angel who does wait,
Is the one who knows our fate,
On that day, heavens and Hells gate,
Shall be opened for those who are righteous
For those who are trescious

Enjoy every moment of living oh children of earth
Our life could be taken any second...may even at birth
Enjoy the beauty of this world and remember..we're transient

Forgiveness isn't easy, grudges lead astray
Just pray (for them)
And you will find peace
And your hatred then shall cease
Just avoid the devil...please pass this test

I have attained realisation through my incapacity...
My submission and my broken mind
Is it enlightment which I will someday find ?

In pleasure and delight
Don't you see ?
And as long as you are pleased with me..
I cherish your glorious might..

For joy and expansion is my state...
The two things which I will wait (with)
And my motto and my cover

And the words which came from ours messengers mouths,
Have healed my hearts sickness
Has saved me from drouth

Be reminded of our short life
and don't be troubled with other folks strife
Just remember the blessings you have been given
and maybe, hopefully you will be forgiven

And under these drifting clouds even though the ages fade
With this unchanging life I can keep shining for you, and aid

And overcoming even time and space
May my gaze though fraught with sin leads you on to a happy life

Oh you humble soul,
Please do tell me, what might be your prescious goal ?
Is it this world you want to stroll (through!)

Oh you angels with all of your wings,
I would like to be amongst you it would be of the best blessings
With all your beautiful dressings
I would like to be an angel, sweet innocent and pure
That would bring me happiness for sure

I will work to be righteous....until everything ends, and that angel plays a tune


~ Umi
This title took so long to finish, I do hope you can enjoy it
Brody Blue Aug 2017
It's true my friend
She did leave again
Though I did believe that this time she would stay
But I won't regret
Nor will I ever fret
For it's only in the game she plays

And I just don't love her the same
There's not enough to go around
Though when I hear her name
It's such a lovely sound...

But she doesn't care
She only compares
Her field of daisies with her field of hay
And I'll never know
What she'll never show
For it's only in the game she plays

And I just don't love her the same
There's not enough to go around
Though when I hear her name
It's such a lovely sound...

It's two below
Here in Tupelo
And I cannot feel my fingers as they play
But I can't forget
So maybe I'll just sit
And think about the game she plays.
Logan Robertson Aug 2018
Twas the night before
Hawaii islands on the radar
A monster opened the door
It shoulders a storied scar

Of the last time, it hit its mark
Rearing its **** head, ahead of pace
As the eye looms '82 in the dark
Wrinkles on this  eve sit sadly in boldface

Kauai sat once in unnatured infamy
It sunny shores hit once by the beast
Clouds of villains played in that symphony
With the next generation looking to feast

As the residence brace for the worst
Of the monster stepping on its paradise
With category four winds and cloudburst
The hope is that the monster plays nice

With the Aloha Spirit preserved with leis
In place of bold headlines of strung wrath
Hawaii can pray rays of light in the coming days
Willing the monster to take a different path

Logan Robertson

8/23/2018
This honor catches me by surprise, so much that I can't wait for the next dawn, sunrise, and all the days that follow. Thank you. Thank you for all the well wishes and support. It means looking at the sunrise, a new dawn, with newfound exuberance and eagerness.

To my friends and relatives on Oahu, I pray. Update-monster played nice. Outstanding was its piano play. Storm went from a 5,4,3,2,1 ... miss. With the Aloha Spirit preserved with leis
In place of bold headlines of strung wrath. Thank you.
Cello Girl Aug 2018
Your fingers soared over the keys.
You breathed love into the warm, bell-like tones.
You shook your head if you missed a note,
your eyes danced,
and around your grin
your mouth said
"I still have time,"
you said.
"I still have time before the concert."

A family trip, driving home,
back from the dunes of Michigan.
A father, mother, brother, you,
a sister left at home.
You sat in the back.
You were laughing, your family.
It was the last time they've laughed so hard.

A bend in the road,
a turn into town,
your car,
slowing down.
A different car, behind you,
did not slow down.

It slammed straight into you.
The metal crunched behind you,
the car spun, and your head bounced.
A helicopter came,
to take you away.

It was too quiet at the hospital.
But you couldn't tell.
You were in a coma.
"Brain trauma,"
the doctors said.
"And a broken leg and clavicle."
They didn't mention the broken
hearts.

They tried to pump life into your chest,
air into your lungs,
much like you
pumped life into the body of your clarinet.
But the machines failed where you did not.
The human in you had gone;
only a body was left.

You're playing for the angels now,
I know you are.
There's a smile on your lips,
in your eyes,
your brown, dancing eyes,
as your fingers effortlessly
fly over the keys,
you play
for the only audience
that could ever
hold you.
This poem is dedicated to the boy who plays clarinet in the sky. He was in my grade, and over the summer he was in an accident. He was one of the smartest, funniest, kindest, most talented people I have ever met.
This poem is my effort to immortalize him in words, and process the fact that he is gone.
Umi Dec 2017
Uhh my head aches,
but that shall not stop me even if the pain rages,
I will not flee, will work on this poem just trust me
It will be great it will be long
Though maybe I am wrong
heh you who reads this
I let you know you are awesome !
You can now go
or stay for cuddles

~ Umi
When I wrote that long poem I made a break and had written another one, though forgot to upload it while the main and bigger one was still in progress
The Second Daniel, thought to overcome
Four more Visions conjured out of his Wand
Without reply does he renounce his Sum,
Later added Better Digits on hand
Mindly notice how this Social Train plays
Slowly taking Commuters off the Tracks
Which this Conductor sadly he displays
And the Tickets he hoped he would get back
You were not the First. This I can assure
But Sincerity a Note only you choose
This Soul, called Will, independent from cure
Balanced on Scales gives your Career a Boost.
If Reason be Creed, then Failure is Heart
Sir, not all Jewels you can just Compart.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Marina Kay Oct 2018
I've heard that distance makes the heart grow fonder;
but somehow it seems to me,
melancholy is the mislaid piece,
for the pangs in my chest
have only grown stronger.

We're 3000 miles apart,
on separate time zones and continents,
your absence from my eyes
captivates my consciousness.

Replaying our memories
in an infinite loop,
my mind plays its tricks
to remind me of you.

As if I could forget
that spellbinding time we spent,
on the days and nights
right after we met.
Missing Jordan.
He still lives with demons
that once held him tenderly
when no one would
be able to find the words
to say that fill the glass
as it is tipped back
and slowly emptied
of the liquor that stirs
memories from the headwind
that blew the lovers' hair back
on the drive through autumn
windy, windy mountain paths
as another Queen song plays
on the radio and the raindrops
on the windshield tap along
with fingertips against the steering wheel
to Freddy Mercury and shared heartbeats.

The truth is he is lying
there like an open wound
as he begins to measure self-worth
with texting tempo and memories
of last summer being too hot
to cuddle with one another
though it was more than enough
to hold feet under the thin sheets
that remember the glass
once again filling with words
as another drink is emptied
and his head burst through clouds
leaving him to hydroplane
through windy, windy mountain paths
as the raindrops on the windshield
applaud with the demons
that beckon tenderly for his return.
Qweyku Nov 2016
Sometimes the rain falls
as if its penning poetry
to the rhythm of its own music;
a sonic tune of liquid tapestry.

Cleft from a sky immersed
in the scene of a tragedy.
It's tears,
the pitter-patter;
a solemn dance
for all humanity.

An ancient jig this fluid frolic
never tiring of its endless cycle
vesting and revisiting this terra firma
like a lover emasculating the earth
of its desert state,
or adding to its oceans
in a bid to be free.

But you’re here again, I’ve noticed
for even through windows
your music plays a clamorous
and rather brazen beat.

Take my hand, why don’t you?

Come.

Dance with me.



**© Qwey.ku
em Nov 2015
Anger is a little boy in a ripped jacket
who plays tag with Stability too close to a cliff.

Confusion is a child with tangled hair and a purple shirt
who enjoys running circles around Content turning
her flower crowns into razor blades.

Depression is a pale girl with sad eyes who plays
red light green light with Happiness near that old garden
they called Eden who lately seems to be dying.
Hello lovely people! I hope you enjoy!!!
Jeff Stier Oct 2016
A most pious man
whose well-tempered music
brushed the cobwebs
from the throne of God

Evolution was made manifest
across deep time
these lyrical figures
achieve the same purpose
in the space between the morning star
and the dawn

A fallow field
is sewn with pearls
a moonlit beach
illuminated by shadow
every scrape of the fiddler's bow
merges mind with the present
harvests the meaning
in the moment

The composer
that good man
was
for a time
church organist at St. John's
its notable steeple leaning
all askew
as a rebuke against God
or perhaps the drunken architect

A finger of candlelight
plays across the manuscript
a fugue echoes
through the still church

And though no living person
on that still winter's night
shares the organist's solemn delight
the stirring mass of possibility
that is posterity
awaits
Nassif Younes Mar 2016
You know what?
**** your mortgage
And your four wheel drive
With its blah blah mileage
And blah blah blah long hard cylinders
And your newly painted lounge
Passionate Purple and Mellow Magenta
Blah blah blah
And your giant flower pots
And your five hundred channels
And your grand piano
That nobody plays
And your recliner sofas
And your perfectly square
Family photos
And your walk in wardrobe
And your cufflinks
And your **** toys
And your big *******
Lawnmower
And
God ****** I hate consumerism
Beer
Beer
*******
BEER
SOMEBODY GET ME A BEER
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