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Cné Aug 2017
when i fall,
i don't just fall in love.
clumsily, i stumble
down and then i land

awkwardly and graceless,
stuttering utterly at the foot
of a handsome man,

blundering an apology
out of breath, ineptly
embarrassed about
my shaky hands,

clambering
to dust myself off,
all the while, i try,
desperately, to stand

wishing i could disappear,
i rise as quickly as i can
waving off any helping hand

so he doesn't see
how incredibly stupid
i must be
Doh
Val Graz Jul 2018
Mommy I'm sorry I manipulate you for,
The alcohol I feel I love more,
And Daddy I'm sorry I pretend I'm naive,
About all of my bad deeds,
I tried so hard to stay dry,
But the rain it pours inside,
I'm drowning in my own self,
I'm suffocating with my mental health,
And I try, I try so hard,
To be who you care for,
The girl who laughs just cause she can,
Who asks for hugs before bed,
But I'm not her anymore,
And I'll never be moving forward,
But really I'm just someone,
Who feels way too much at once,
I cry at night when I'm all alone,
Dancing with my demons on my own,

Please don't hate me, I couldn't survive,
I do that enough for myself, and I can no longer hide,
That I don't have a problem with substances,
That I can recognize when I've had enough of them,

I'm so tired of pretending it's under control,
This feeling of alcohol that sings in my soul,
The cough syrup that makes my shaky thoughts,
Become shaky feet, legs, and hands,
I'd rather feel physically ill,
Than continue to be mentally unwell,
So I will continue to veer off the tracks,
And spin out of control, it's just a fact,
I have no sense of when to stop,
Please don't make me stop,
It's so hard to be in my own head,
Every day it's like a death,
I die a bit, a piece of me fades away,
And I'm sorry to inform you, to say,
I'm not okay, I'm just not alright,
With myself I will continue to fight,

Please don't hate me, I couldn't survive,
I do that enough for myself, and I can no longer hide,
That I don't have a problem with substances,
That I can recognize when I've had enough of them.
CloudedVisions Aug 2018
There is a bridge up in the sky
One supported by the clouds
In the air it hangs on tight
But the darkness casts a shroud

Each time you cross this bridge
you learn where it is soft
So each year you make repairs
High up in this sky loft

The bridge is fixed over and over
Year and after year
But that's because there is a problem
Better kick it into gear

The problem is deep down below
Inside the supporting beams
Better hurry, better be quick
To fix where no light gleams

So now you fix the problem below
The soft spots slowly fade
So now you smile, joy within
As you look at the progress made
Corvus Mar 2018
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the slow braking of a car,
A seamless transition from driving to a standstill.
Sometimes you need to slam on.
And it never happens silently,
There's always a screech or a thud or a gasp,
It takes you by surprise and it lurches you forward.
You have to hold on for dear life.
The unexpected nature of it wreaks havoc on your insides;
Butterflies are woken up from your stomach and become nausea.
You check to see if all your limbs are intact, or in fragments.
Then you do the same for your heart,
Searching to see if it went through the windshield
Or if it managed to stay held inside by your unyielding ribs,
Only ever collapsing under the strain of breaths,
Hyperventilating into an airbag.
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the steady sigh of relief,
It's the jagged, shaky breaths that never fully extend
In or out, and there's no calming halt afterwards,
Just a process of continuously hitting the brakes.
King Panda Nov 2016
let go, brother
let go of your forest
your ocean spray
your frantic
manic
tendencies
the ability to wipe it all away
lost somewhere in the wind
let go of your rain
let go of your shaky hands
and hold your pencil straight
with your teeth
don’t fret, forest
don’t burn, brother
hold
hold tight
the hallucinations of what swims
a polished stone skipping
in one endless encephalon cycle
fogged and
fogged again
the forest smokes
and the rain to put it out wanes
steam
maddy lynda Oct 2018
i wasn't sure if it was love
i was so wrong last time
i couldn't trust my heart
it wasn't until
i realised
that she's just as broken as me
and i held her shaky hand
and i kissed her shaky face
then i knew
for my beautiful girlfriend <3
Kelly Weaver Feb 2018
Your seething tides churn in my mind
As my shaky hands subside
And though love can be caustic,
You are sweet-tempered.
Your voice could calm even the roughest storms.
I wish I had enough time in the day to tell you of how many times you've kept my heart beating
Or of all of the times you've interrupted the steady streams of woe escaping my bloodshot eyes
All without even trying.
I wish I could thank you for holding my hand while I puked up roses, and drying my eyes when I choked on the thorns.
for my darling boyfriend, who I love so very much
Let me to the Incarnate Mother must
The Eldest of Sudden Truth understand
One Day, which shaky Candles will delust
The Object's Manner of a Blackened Hand
I deliver Forceps to which Heart grows
What Heart's own Attrition dares to admit
The Mum of Three Promised Knights beknows
The Receipt of such Devotion permits
Verily, Age is a Factorless Sum,
Easily enclayed by a Donkey's Foot
And when the Festival lays down its Lump
It locked the Door to keep the Sorrowful.
Now, Elder-Mum, try to lift your Wise Head
This Extended Son, wishes your Love be fed.
Jeff Stier Apr 2016
Space is curved.
The straight line
a Euclidian fiction.
The very fabric of space,
the skin pulled in upon itself,
Light follows this curvature.
Nor is time the heartbeat of angels,
as we once thought,
but our own shaky construct.

The galaxies that we imagine
to be real prove to be
archaic images,
things that once were.
When we look into the heavens,
we look back in time.

When the light of our star
has traveled in one vast
cosmic arc
and returned to its source,
we shall know ourselves.

In that dawning
light will fail,
the stars dim and flicker.
Time itself will falter
and the voices of angels
will be heard.
Written in 1977.
Elena Mar 6
A
wild
thin
flame
burns


In shaky hands she walks on
Shadows flickering on the walls
Dark figures
stretch down
tunnel halls
Monsters
come alive
in the depths of
estranged minds
And deep down
   in her very soul
There is a wild fire, burning strong
Engulfing the curtains of darkness
Where her fears hide behind.
laura Apr 2018
funny how it's always
been about you

the wind's through the larynx
of a world raging without us
the song's making us weep

the stage too hard to cast our swag on
fingers to shaky to turn the page

i've been kicking it with a friend
the undertone of sinister elegance
of age - the vanishing of what used to be
drakes the type of ***** that makes me miss that one girl from second grade who took my green crayon.

i miss her. more importantly i want that crayon back
wordvango Oct 2018
shall I compare thee to burning hay?
thou art more highly and more plenty.
rough tokes do shake the buds of August, and summer's shake has all too long to wait.
sometimes too hot the high of heaven shines,
And often is the gold reflection dimmed;
And every hair from fair bud does decline,
By chance, or nature's changing course, undimmed;
But thy eternal sizzle shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that buzz thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in a daze,
When in eternal times to fine thou grow'st,
      So long as men can breathe, or eyes get red,
      So long lives this, the smoke do smell like burning hay.
aquis Aug 2018
whenever you expect
something to make you whole
give something
that is not whole
to someone who doesn’t expect
anything from you

give your heartbroken smile
to someone
with heartbroken eyes

give your roaring ears
to someone
with roaring thoughts

give your shaky hands
to someone
with shaky fears

give your weak shoulders
to someone
with weak tears

give your dimmed light
to someone
with a dimmed life

give something
that is not whole
to become whole
again
I wrote this a couple of weeks ago, but was inspired to share it today after reading a truly beautiful poem “My All”, here on HP.

I believe with all my heart that ‘giving’ is not proportional with how much you have. Although it may seem so, it actually isn’t about what you ‘have’ to give, but about how willing you are to ‘give’, to help others, to practice kindness, to smile at strangers, to do something without contemplating what you will get in return.

Giving doesn’t take something away from you but it ‘gives’ way more back to you. You don’t need to be ‘whole’ to give, but you will feel whole after you see how happy you made someone just because you truly listened to them or told them you appreciate them.

Simplest things are often more than enough ☀️
Meredith Ann Jan 14
The word
It means so many things.
And all mean something so strong.

It’s passive immaturity thrown in faces.
It’s stupid giggles and shaky whispers.
It’s high cheekbones and pretty hair.
It’s large numbers. With shifting and friction and bonding and breaks.
It’s caring and liking.
It’s something that I’ll never have.

But not because it’s not me,
Because I continue to deprive myself.
Because what was once self defense,
Has now become a brand.
And it’s too expensive to let go.
written 10/2/18
making love with no love
(kissed her with his freedom)**

<•>

a new person in an overnight stay in a strange,
aptly named,
bed and breakfast

and

you do all the same things that just feel good, careless loving
that comes from practiced renewable remembering,
kiss her neck for hours, drink in her crescendoing cooing

rename her Appalachia, bemused, wondering why,
she gasp-asks, when your tongue traces her odyssey body
from her Georgia to her Maine, then no need to explain

it all feels familiarly strange, imbalanced, shaky, loving the thrill
of your first solo bike ride, an invisible hand letting go,
the wow of walking the line of new freedom and
old responsibility that you have walked on both coasts

carry on, love is coming to us all lyric, enacted-recalled,
loving yet another
long cool woman in a black dress with unquestioning

how to explain to her, how to yourself, loving with no loving,
and the best you can stammer is it is like writing a poem
with too many commas or none at all

she laughs you up with one mouth lingering,
then one amazing kiss on your heart
and nose,
grabs a piece of toast and gone girl,
then you are returned to alone, to the dreams that
may or may not have occurred and two hands overflowing with
too many commas
and none to keep
<•>


11-18–17 2:54am, somewhere
“kissed her with his freedom”
Cactus Tree by J. Mitchell
11/18/17 2:54am
Robert G Page Dec 2011
by
rgpage

in times long past young lovers dashed
to reach their secret space.
to kiss and ***** and plan and hope
their future's goals are placed.

never mind their path be lined
with unknown strife and pain.
their love is strong they'll carry on
with carefree youthful gain.

they don't see their life to be
past cupid's hot embrace.
as hot breath blends with kiss' deep
young lovers start their chase.

young love is hot and secrets not
shall block their youthful nest.
when young men dare and young girls share
young lovers start their quest.

its saturday night, dad's packard's right
with half a tank of gas.
with comb to hair in the bathroom mirror
he's thinking 'bout his lass.

its only been a week gone past
his greatest dream came true.
he staked his claim, with hopes on high
and pinned his Peggy Sue.

they talked of passages young men take
to cross that great divide.
to walk the way of their father's
and yes to take a bride.

in the grown up world so long past school
the grown ups just don't see.
teen love is true and made to last
the way it was meant to be.

he got on base with his varsity pin,
the base is numbered two.
this place before he'd never been
he hardly knew what to do.

his body went through changes great
his thoughts a swirling brook.
he cupped his prize with shaky hand
when before he could only look.

tonight's the night he's waited for
yes perhaps go all the way.
to walk with those who've beat love's quest
to become a man this day.

the time is ripe as is the night
it's planned in every way.
she won't resist his manly charms
WHAT MONTHLY FRIEND?
how long does she plan to stay?

and what's her visit to do with us
away from the lights of the city?
who is this friend to ruin this night?
his plans be dashed more the pity.
Mom, can you hear me?
Its 5:00 p.m and I came for dinner, it's no test.
Please pace yourself tonight
You've had 3 drinks already, tonight please for me, give it a rest.

Mom, I need to tell you about my day
Okay this is drink number 4, and dinner is served.
Mom I got a promotion at work today
I can't believe it!
"Honey can you pass the wine please?" She says to dad
Conversation swerved

Mom how have you been doing?
She tells me the same story she told me yesterday when I asked.
Dinner is cleared, time for dessert.
Of course, dessert is just another glass.

Mom you look beautiful tonight,
Oh wait your make up is all smudged up.
"Please fix it for me baby".
Shes too shaky, but not for another cup.

Mom I miss our girls days
Getting our nails done and going for lunch
"I would love to grab some mimosas tomorrow,
How about we go for brunch?"

Mom I'm too sleepy for brunch, how about we go to dinner?
The restaurant down the road is brand new
I hear it's a winner

Mom why dont you want to try it?
"I can't go to dinner without my wine"
We picked a new restaurant
All was far from fine.

Mom please dont yell at the waitress
"HEY OVER HERE WE NEED SOME ICE!!"
I knew this was a bad idea.
When shes drinking she isnt always nice.

Mom that was super rude.
You cant speak to people that way.
If you were sober it never would have happened.
You're more careful with what you say.

Mom please don't be mad at me,
I was only trying to help
"All you ever so is pick on me," she cries
"I need to leave here, I'm out."

Mom it's you whose breaking me
And I cant keep watching you fall
You have proven alcohol is more important.
I guess I dont matter after all.
Arke Jun 2018
I walk through my room
touch each book on my shelf
thinking of you in the shower
touching yourself

With an open book, I wish
these pages were your skin
I'd caress each one until
our narrative could begin

with your hand on my knee
and your lips on my wrist
I'll beg for you to take me
in our sweet summer tryst

your fingers trail lines
up and down my thigh
until I can bear it no longer
my lips produce a shaky sigh

a hitch in my breath
as I become wet and ready
and you'll push into me
keeping me steady

and whisper the filth
of all you'd like to do
tell me I'm beautiful
watch my pages unglue

and all my bindings break
and all the books shatter
leaflets fly through the room
you always knew how to flatter

and when my daydream cracks
alone, hour after hour
wondering if you think of me
when you're in the shower...
All I ever write is **** now, thanks.
Aniron Jul 2015
But how the realisation of my very existence
has grown like flowers, yet none beautiful.
I have somehow stopped knowing myself
long ago, yet I thought I did find ”me”
just yesterday, but I assume I was only wrong;
it was again a pretending song.
Sometimes as I sit in quiet
I think of my childhood hours
proceeding to days, to years,
and how they won’t cease to haunt
deep inside of me,  screaming
from locked up and shaky towers,
far up in an unknown pointy castle
built of fragile flesh - a stupid body.
But, oh, to only have the key to these doors,
to find my breath again longing for;
to feel my heart once more throbbing for
that what I once thought was everything -
the things that now seem nothing.
Corvus Jan 2017
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the slow braking of a car,
A seamless transition from driving to a standstill.
Sometimes you need to slam on.
And it never happens silently,
There's always a screech or a thud or a gasp,
It takes you by surprise and it lurches you forward.
You have to hold on for dear life.
The unexpected nature of it wreaks havoc on your insides;
Butterflies are woken up from your stomach and become nausea.
You check to see if all your limbs are intact, or in fragments.
Then you do the same for your heart,
Searching to see if it went through the windshield
Or if it managed to stay held inside by your unyielding ribs,
Only ever collapsing under the strain of breaths,
Hyperventilating into an airbag.
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the steady sigh of relief,
It's the jagged, shaky breaths that never fully extend
In or out, and there's no calming halt afterwards,
Just a process of continuously hitting the brakes.
Old.
Julieta Aurelio Jul 2015
There's this mask I wear
The glue is so tight
Hiding me, hiding all
All you don't see, unless you get really near
That I'm not alright
My eyes are dark and deep enough for you to stand in
My wrists are ******, so are my thighs
My heart is shaky
And I've got non stop anxiety
But from far you see this mask
You hear my loud laugh
And see me hold my tummy in pain from giggling at my own joke
You swear I have recovered
When actually my late night tears help me keep the mask on
I may not look injured
Nor hollow
Or in pain
Just with this smile on my face
Of this mask that I wear
I hurt unheard and unseen,
Impatient for good days.

If my heart was transparent
A lot wouldn't be the same
Anyways, I'm already used to building these walls around my heart.
It's protected, I guess. From the outside world yet within me the storm never calms.
Tears wet these pillows
All night through sometimes wishing that morning must never come
Holding the grudge against myself
While smiling to all standing right in front of me.
Asking is this how life suppose to be.
Limping with anger yet holding the last thought of laughter
One hell of life we living.
You see...
This mask doesn't show things in 3D
That's why I love rainy days
Coz my tears are never recognized
Sadness engulf my soul while hoping that one day I will be able to remove the glue on this mask I wear.
Duo with @DrewThePoet (twitter)
Beatrix Feb 2018
...
There was an empty heart when I arrived
inside a bag of shaky bones
beating faintly fast enough not to stop
I could almost not hear it
but I felt it with the palm of my hands
so cold...
as if I should just wait for it to die.
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