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Cynthia Jun 2017
Unexpectedly, like a thief in the night
Depression will come
Anxiety
Anger
Despair will introduce itself
threaten existence,
testing
Faith,
Assaulting the most precious possessions
Leaving behind bitterness
footprints  
in the coldest nights

But none define whose you are

Don’t fight alone.....
Lost faith sometime ago
Scooping you up
In those planes
Where moon touches earth
Found an angel riding shotgun
Pearly white grin
Cleanse me of my sins
Wanna be devoted
Don't wanna be demoted
Trying to be small
Sneak into your heaven

-JCM-
refresh mesh Jun 2017
Thank you, please, I'm sorry, OK!
This is the **** I've learned to say every day.
You handed me your boyfriend like a present
But wouldn't share with me 1 non-incriminating secret?
You're welcome, sure, it's cool, alrighty,
this is the sensual might of my aphrodite
you interrupt my stories, tell me i'm a mess,
then call me the person who understands you best

If your cracking laugh, loud as a bark
didn't bend me over like a punch to the spleen
defiled again! my own clumsy fault, i suppose
If your approval of my paintings
didn't heat my thighs and send me reeling.
death in my pillow and loss soaking my clothes

I wouldn't have cared if it was just a dumb mistake,
But I smell your poison, heavy in the air
And my throat swallows as much as you want it to take
After years of sharing every horror story
You have not even begun to know me

Or don't you care about shattering this trust?
We are out of supplies needed to rebuild our bridge.
Hovering in anticipation, waiting for you to settle all this dust
But you won't offer a thing that's not inside your fridge.

And I still don't know how to leave you
The myths of queerness are not at all true
Girls might steal as much as they want from me, too
It's all some people know how to do
I got trust issues **** but to be fair you stole my favorite pair of *******
Vicki Kralapp Jun 2013
Love has come to find me in the dark,
    so tender on this summer's day.
Singing like the songbird and meadowlark,
    their song of love so sweet and oh so gay.
Glowing like fireflies at twilight,
    a beacon that's come to guide my way.
It came like a thief in the night,
    stealing this waiting heart away.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Kevin J Taylor Nov 2016
I dreamed an opened book of prayer
On a table by a window
Pages turning by a window’s ledge at night
There, God in darkness, knowing, seeing
And where a thief had hidden, kneeling
As pages flutter with the curtain in the night

Pages lifting, lifting, turning
While God looking, quiet, waiting
For His thief in contemplation
Of the faith he had not kept
There, in the shadows of the curtain
At the turning, soon the lifting, of the night
.
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
Last night into the room she crept,
awhilst I lay in bed and slept.
My dreams there caught on sleep’s broad reef
she breached sleep’s net, the blanket thief.

Copyright © 2004 Gary Brocks
180828F

My wife woke me by wrapping herself in our blanket.
I couldn't sleep, so I decided to try to capture a bit of William Blake's voice.
Outside Words Oct 2018
I made a deal with Satan
Because you showed me
That he was my only shot

I threw away who I was
And became your enemy
As I smile like your friend

I learned the game
And that I have a gift

I use it to play you
And steal from you

And I’ll continue to do so
With you as my teacher
Until I cough and glare at you
Through my last dying breath

I’m a villain.

I secretly extort and leach
Off of everything and everyone
That you have ever loved
Because that and you
Don’t mean anything to me

I want to deceive
And take advantage
Of you and your friends
So that I can take your money
Because I will not settle
For less than the ivory tower
That you sleep in.
© Outside Words
Desmond the poet Sep 2017
by Desmond Makatu,

Your visits are unpredictable.
like a ghost, you're invisible.
The attacks are inevitable.
You come like a thief at night.
You seize me day and night.

"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"

Cruelty unrestricted to age.
Victimising even toddlers.
Unrestricted to ethnic groups.
My life has time gaps.
Gaps, like discrete graphs.
Cracks depict thin line between life and death.
Grace bridges the gaps and life prevails over death.
Seizures still haunt me like a demonic wrath.

"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"

Attacks are brief, bruises lasts forever.
You offer questions only God can answer.
Quest for answers is like probing for cure of Cancer.
Death seemed to be the answer but God thought otherwise.

First seizure shook like multiple earthquakes.
Followed by a pool of darkness.
woke up confused, crowd's ****** expressions said a thousand words.
Migraines raided my head, exposed to enormous pressure.
Officially baptised by wrath of seizures.

"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"

You're a physical and psychological culprit.
Like a Yoyo, you take me into a roller-coaster of emotions.
Aftermaths of your theft are etched in my mind as if they’re on stones.
Behind my “poker face” lies devastating pains than physicals seen by the  crowd.

"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"

Watch video on YouTube. https://youtu.be/VggXerYLOHY
Being epileptic for, I thought I should express how I feel about the condition.
GreenTrees Nov 22
The best part of you  is You.


Your ability to take sadness and pain

and mold it into growth and beauty

To create peace and desolation in the embrace of the life storm

To sit in emptiness when there is chaos all around me.

I am the night thief... stealing hours from the normal day to

to exist in silence and think.
Medicinal Silence
At the money table, Cain and Abel, Abraham and Isaac,

And neither one cares how you’ll pay as long as it is not a check,

Brassy appendages obversely curl to abruptly angular truncated legs-upon-his-lek,

And the proof of who he represents hangs weightily about his Plouton neck,

See the cotton-wafer stacks shuffled as bricks in rows to the translucent deck,

The waiver now giving its woe whence once wished-for upon the Great Molech?

Mr. crooked hook-nose at his compose will take on any bet,

As Sheol will have it, many lament, being in his debt,

A Canaan cursed and tribal descendant, the relative of Set.

For with misery and suffering well you get what you beget!
A "lek," is a Phoenician word for a table at which a collector stands. Like a modern-day podium...but more than a collector, an administrator for god as the Egyptians saw it.
Peter B Oct 2018
I'm taking my time,
though not much is left.
And each day of my life
feels more like a theft.
Nigel Finn Oct 2018
I sometimes take words that were first used by others
(I'm About to admit I'm a bit of a crook)
Re-hash and re-use them, and make my own covers-
Stealing little known lines from an eloquent book.

I've stolen from Shakespeare, yanked words off of Yeats,
And pilfered from Plato and Brown;
I've probably swiped stuff off all of the greats,
And many of zero renown.

There's more to be heard in the wise words of Wilde
Or took from a Tennyson line
Or the thinking out loud of an inquisitive child,
Than could spill forth from this pen of mine.

So if I've stolen from you, and perchance have offended,
(Yes- I'm about to steal Shakespeare again)
Just think but this, and all is mended;
Nothing original came from my pen.

Which means that, eventually, all that I've ever done
Will be lost in the shadows of time,
Skipped over, or lost, and simply outdone
By your works original shine.
For the record- I do try and admit to my word thievery when I'm aware of it. So much of it's unconscious though, that I doubt I'll ever know of all the occassions I've done it.
I should be done trying
But I don't know how to stop
I thought I was over this
But I guess that I'm not
I don't know what to do
I'm losing composure
I'm counting down the days
I'm losing time for closure
What do you call us
We never had a fling
Or a full conversation
Were we ever anything?
I think you're a thief
You stole my attention
From the man I'm going to marry
I just need an intervention
I think I'm am addict
I need you out of my life
So stop showing me interest
Save that for your wife
01/30/2018
Carmen Jane May 16
Tangled, in unfinished thoughts,
Sending energy waves in knots,
Not wanting to go, to that one place,
For fear of falling in disgrace
Scratching the floor under your feet,
Avoiding once more to feel the heat
You sigh and wonder, in disbelief,
How can you miss this little thief
She stole your heart after all,
As she wrote that poem at nightfall.
I never fully understood the meaning of the  word “mourn” until this year -
To truly feel the loss of another concentrated in its purest form.

I never believed when others would say
“I miss you more, in  each and every day” or
“There’s not an hour goes by, without a thought of you on my mind”
As if Loss is an unforgotten constant in the trails of the trivial,
We are only human after all.

But I was naive, through and through.
Loss never leaves your side once you meet
Loss is a friend for life.
The kind that shows their face in the most unpredictable moments,
Who never fades away or falls out,
Becoming more aquatinted as we go through life.

Loss is selfish, wanting our undivided attention,
Expecting us to indulge in its deep dark thoughts with strong pretension.

Loss is harsh, not hiding nor sugarcoating any enemy attack,
Facing us with the reality of control and just how much we lack.

Loss is bitter, Loss is unkind
Loss is a thief, stealing our piece of mind.

Loss is jealous, Loss is sly.
Is it absent of Love,
Or has Love left it’s side?
Renn Powell May 2
you’ve stolen so much of my soul,
i’m still trying to remember who i was
Anika Nelson May 18
For the past two years your love is all I have wanted.
But now that I have it,
I’ve realized...
It’s not mine to take
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
I've sat here for 21 years
Watching all this go by
People say things cliché
With pretension in their eye
I'm tired of hearing, everyday, what life is all about
Reality is getting boring, let's tune in and drop out

Have you heard the one
About the killer and the priest?
One blesses people with less and less
And one is just a thief
In "somewhere else" my mind is broken down
Reality is getting boring yet still its name resounds

There's stories everywhere you go
And all of them the same
Reductive plots and happy endings
Just under another name
I'm quiet as I sit and listen to what they all say
Reality is getting boring, maybe I'll revisit it some other day
Naj Jul 14
I took a young girl’s life
on the same day I was born

I stole her youth
by merely existing while
diminishing every possibility
of her ever living the future
she’s always longed for

She sacrificed
everything
for nothing

How couldn’t she see
that I’m solely here to
bleed her out and myself

My departure towards death
was destined on the day I was born
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