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galio Mar 2016
the sailors called the sirens beautiful
they wept, tearing out their hair
and tossed it into the ocean
turning it into seaweeds.

the sailors called the sirens beautiful
who then 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 decided to mutilate their legs
and scar their feet
so they would no longer be human.

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

the sailors called the sirens beautiful
but they didn't see beauty or sin
instead,
walking vessels
an empty name
and a prize to win.
harpies are described as repulsive half-bird half-human creatures that represented evil. however in early greek mythology, hesiod described them as beautiful winged maidens.
Carter Ginter Jul 2018
I started writing a poem about them
And the beginning sounded like ours
The one where I told you that
Words aren't enough to define us
And yes words are limiting
But
They also have a way of telling you more
If you pay close enough attention
When "I love you endlessly"
Turns to "ILY" and
"I can't imagine my life without you"
Turns to weeks of sitting alone
And all the "I miss you"s
Turn to "how are you"s
As if you even cared
Your actions never matched your language
Were your words too limiting for you?
When I was still always there for you
And all you did was break promises?
Were the words you spoke too constricting?
At least that would explain why you broke them
Though still not why you said them
Maybe you were afraid to let me down
Or afraid to really be seen
Or just so self-absorbed that you didn't care
That you couldn't care
About yourself
Or about me
KM Hanslik Jul 2018
Keep your eyes soft and your dreams
up on the highest shelf so you won't take them down too early;
keep everything that you spill in the dark locked
behind your teeth during the day, don't bring it out before dusk;
like secrets we drip over sidewalk cracks
from cotton-candy sticky fingers and leave our names
dissolved under each other's tongues, the warmth of you is keeping me company
as I try to crawl out of my blood again, they told you to leave
a bread-crumb trail in case your heart becomes too watered down by just visiting
to even remember the vacation at all; you carry
kisses on the knuckles of amputated arms,
driving through parking lots with your seatbelts on,
collections of constellations growing
in the bruises on the insides of your thighs, reminders
of salt & the whites of your eyes;

I'll always carry you around
like scuffed knees and the last time I told you "I'm okay",
I wanna press my fingers into you until your skin is melded
with fire and scraps of things that I could never be,
I hope steel rods grow out of your bones and I hope you gather
bruises before you gather dust,
we are all a little lost and lonely but that never stopped
the accumulation of well-spent nights
coughing up new ways to spell my name
(it sounded foreign before you)
leave this on repeat,
we're going in again.
Knit Personality May 2018
A miracle played on the flute
Was sounded in one single toot:
    A flutist spontaneously
    Performed simultaneously
The fifth and the third and the root.  

#
Sarah Isma May 2018
Day by day you'd pass me by,
and at a time i'd think
it's a norm seeing you smile
I said hi but today
you replied with my name
For a second then,
i never realized that my heart would beat
a little bit faster than it usually did,
I never thought
How good it sounded coming from you
and i never realized
how everyday was like that after,
i'd be falling slowly,
a little bit deeper than i should be,
deeper in love with you
of course there is this boy, in which i think may become a series, where we met and i thought he was handsome but i thought id never get anywhere with him but as time goes by he started talking to me, and acknowledge me and until one day, he said my name, far from the crowd- just to make me say hi to him back. I feel like im starting to swim in dangerous waters now
laura Nov 2017
don't let my feelings keep you
from the rest of your life
this forty and a lot of reasons
why i'm hiding away

when you wake, i'll be gone away
and you'll do what you like without me
i don't have any problems but honest to god
you got it, your walk, the hills, that wooden
cello you played a little when i was over

but i politely listened through it all
'cause i don't know enough about music
to know if it sounded good
CDs Aug 2015
here is now
 to what the
            heck?

         jump out of this year
         with that old joint attitude
         and leave a mark
          like it's too hot for me.

                  so quickly
                  that burden ate.
                   loved the way
                   he operates.

                      won't let us help.
                        needed it.
                        sounded good.

              man, what's wrong with less?

     let's meet up again sometime soon.
           after a few more questions.
           let's meetup somewhere  
                    between
                         two am
                                  and
                                   here.
Stephen E Yocum Aug 2013
When I was young,
I chased only fun,
My head all filled,
with stupid.

I wrecked some cars,
Got into fights,
Broke some bones,
never learned my lesson.

There was back then,
A guiding Light,
That tried to shine
From within my Father.

He knew the ropes,
Had run the course,
He'd even been in prison,
But me, well, I was too
"smart" to listen.

We butted heads,
The Old Man and me,
I remained too
stubborn, to heed
His hard won
Sage learned wisdom.

To me back then,
Some of his words,
sounded silly,
'Cause, at my age,
I still reckoned,
That I knew it all,

When he died,
We all cried,
After all he was
my Father.
But gone is gone,
And I wanted fun,
Off I went to find it.

In a bar,
the "Memphis Star"
A guy pulled a knife,
to stab me.

In a full blind rage,
I triggered my hate
And stole that man's
Life forever.

All hell commenced,
My plans and direction,
Everything changed forever.

Now as I sit here thinking
Within this rank prison,
I dearly wish that to,
My old Daddy's wisdom,
I would have devoted,
much more attention.

Tomorrow mornin',
A Hangman is comin',
and at the end of my
my own rope,
I will be surely hangin'.
Not autobiographical, thanks be
to all the Gods. But I have met
this guy. Perhaps we all have.
Some people can not get out
of there own way or learn
from their own mistakes
until it's too late.
Alan McClure Apr 2012
A singer died
when he and I
were twenty five.
I think I found out
some weeks later,
playing his album to a friend.
"He's the one that died, isn't he?
Fell out a window?"

I was sorry
but unaffected.
I'd seen him on T.V.,
thought he sounded
a bit like me,
bought the CD.

Sixteen years on
I am pummelled with nostalgia
for a blithely immortal age.
My band broke up,
reformed, broke up,
I got married, had kids
became a teacher

But he sits
in the impregnable fortress of maybe,
always smiling,
twenty five
till the sun swallows the earth.
thomezzz Jun 2018
I've loved many boys
With different colored eyes
But the way I remember them is
By the shape of their hands

The way their thumbs curved
Or how their palms felt against my own
The weight of them on my thighs
Or how they ran through my hair

The times they zipped up my dress
And settled on my shoulders
The moments when they grazed my own
As they handed me my keys

The motion of them as they spoke
And the motionless of them when they were silent
The smoothness of them in the beginning
And the calluses after time had passed

Sometimes, I forget the faces of these boys
Or the way their voice sounded over the phone
But I'll never forget the way it felt
With their hands intertwined in my own
kevin hamilton Jun 2017
at dusk
the lights went out
and never came back
left my earthly husk
through the lips
the whiskey spoke
and it sounded nice
easy party trick
broke into your medicine cabinet
and saw my face
in the bathroom mirror

stay awake
and we'll stare at each other
until we become familiar.
ryn Dec 2014
It was those blue eyes, sparkling with words
I dreamt about reading but believed it impossible
Too beautiful to be seen with nuclear nerds
In my breakable beaker, you'd never be soluble.

A mismatched juxtaposition, atom for atom.
Even if I permutate, molecule by molecule.
We could never have struck stable equilibrium,
I could never escape the premise of ridicule.

Spent too much time postulating the unknown
Spent far too long balancing tricky equations
Head dug too deep to realise a factor that had grown
An external variable that had encroached with similar intentions.


My hand slipped from the scale when your finger touched my own
I forgot the words "controlled reaction", momentarily
Seeing goosebumps on your skin, and other bumps now shown
I gently pushed your wayward hair behind your ear, daringly

A moment frozen in the range of sub-zeroes
Dare I forgo the mandatory steps and arrive at a conclusion?
If I do I'd garner the title, "the nerdiest of all heroes!"
My "spidey-sense" failed me this time, and awarded me with a "fist-meet-face" reaction!

Happened in a blur, nanoseconds that sang in mock.
What was it that left me in a twirl?
Propped myself up to see the wrath of a crimson-faced ****.
All fists, no brains who yelled, "Hands off my girl!"


All this hilarious yet passionately painful hullabaloo
Let me drop the beaker of sodium in the zinc basin
Forgetting not to get it wet, the moment, clearly now unglued
When suddenly, "BOOM" it sounded like a pending cremation

Jocks, and nerds, and screaming cheerleaders
Hit the ground like a lunchtime scene from downtown Baghdad
And Blondie whispers in my ear, like a gypsy mind reader
"Maybe we should cool it, for I am in love with another lad"

Her words hit home and burned like The Lindenburg on fire
Amidst the fracas, cracked voice stammered to mask my bruised latent ego
"Nothing improper... Just an attempt to save your locks from the Bunsen burner
Science is my only love, just so you know"

Thanked God for my eyes and the need for correction lenses
Those thick convexes made it easy to not reveal
Steadied my frames and packed in hasty pretences
Accusing eyes followed as I exited the room with tears concealed...


Pieter Meyer
**ryn
You may have read this before as it is a repost of my collaboration with the witty and incredible Pieter Meyer. He seemed to have gone missing, along with the poem. So here it is... Hope you enjoy it
Dogfood Williams Feb 2014
the sparks got wet and fizzled out like that cheap
hair dryer you bought at the goodwill to **** yourself
in the tub with but once you dropped the lit fuse in the
water all you got was a dark room and a cold bath
that made you chuckle at how ******* dumb you sounded
when you said “exactly like my life!”
'Tick-tock', says the clock
You're too late

But he knew to himself
that he could never be early
and could have never been

But he only knew this
when the clock had chimed

It's time to go
she said

though it sounded more like

It's time to say

                                                  
                                                    Goodbye­  



he didn't hear
for she
had deafened him
with the sound of
her voice

he gave her a broken smile
and a stare that would last forever

will this be the last?
he asked
knowing this was the first

he knew she loved him too
in his dreams
at least
High-Low
m Feb 2018
;fear

We felt it, with our hands pressed tightly against our child-chests.
Boom
Boom
Boom.

It sounded nothing like a heartbeat,
But explosions being let off in the distance.
And it smelt nothing like fear,
It smelt like sweat and dried ***** caked onto torn pajama pants.

We grew to know the insides of our mouths,
with our soft gums clutched between our teeth -
We learned that our voices were safer kept stowed away there.

We picked at their hands like we picked at our scabs,
Because pulling off healing skin,
felt like pulling off a rooted burn,
And prying off desperate fingers from off our bones,
Meant prying off something that terrified us.

This was our strength;
This was our paralysis.

We felt it, with our ears pushed against the door,
Please
Please
Please

It sounded nothing like a pleading mother
But warm air, creeping through vents with a sudden force.
And it smelt nothing like fear,
It smelt of fresh blood, kissing the lips of a weeping woman.

We worshipped knives like they worshiped our baby-soft skin,
Because cutting open ourselves meant cutting out what they left inside,
And watching the filth flee
down our wrists, down our knees,
Felt like draining water
Out of a clogged tub.


It felt nothing life fear
It smelt nothing like decay
It was a continual clutch of the knife against their throats

This one's for you, daddy
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