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Lea Loveit May 2018
Warm air swarm
Expecting less than nothing
Except whatever the term
Is for the birth of a cling

The bass of the wind
Sing a song so unnoticed
As the world spins
Such goes unfocused

The pure curiosity
Stopped me from logic
Pausing from the worlds atoricty
A chance- joyous or tragic

I listen close
As the air sings about my beauty
You are the choice I chose
Who responded with vehement duty

Kissing so slow yet perfect
The wind, the song, the feeling in slow motion
For once everything clicked
Flowing like an ambivalent ocean

How this unfolds?
Possibilities are many
For now it’s unknown
But I expect something funny

During this pause in life
I let the wind’s ardor in
Penetrating deep like a knife
Careless to realize it’s a sin

Two beings acting as one
Forever in a still moment
Ending the timeless fun
Although words were barely spoken

Wind handled with care
Yet I crave more
Let’s do it again, I dare
Aiming slowly not in a tore.
This poem is about a man named Salvatore. I was day dreaming about a ****** encounter with him during a warm spring night. While people were walking, talking, and living, I focused on the light wind blowing as I thought of him. I named it Tore because I wanted to be subliminal to him.

Stanza 1- I feel the air around. I think of the night and the amount of time before the act. I didn’t expect a thing but I was interested, noticing the start of the attraction or “clinging” on to him

Stanza 2- i vision this while I hear the wind blow. As the wind is unnoticed so is the he. As things happen around me and him, the world starts to dim and he starts to be my focus

Stanza 3- I was curious in him. I stopped thinking and imagined the possibilities, regardless of what’s going on around me. The last line enhances the chance regardless if it goes well or not.

Stanza 4- I focus harder on this wind as I reminisce on us being alone. He notes my beauty. The third line “ you are the choice I chose” has the word choice means great. The sentence means I fully decided this is what I want. It’s meaningful because this is something I wanted & it was mutual.  He responded with such passion and romance.

Stanza 5- he took things slow— which was great. I got to take in every moment. Everything came together.  Although this was all great I began to have feelings making me second guess my choice.

Stanza 6- because of my mixed emotions I start to question the result of this. He makes me laugh, I know I can count on him making me smile.

Stanza 7- during this drift away from my current reality I let the “wind’s,” which is now Salvatore,  passion in. As deep as a knife can get, he was in me. I didn’t care if it was a sin because it was extremely passionate

Stanza 8- we are as one. The oxymoron “forever in a still moment” & “ending the timeless fun” represents how this felt so lasting but at some point it had to end. It also represents the moment I took away from my reality to remember this moment. We barely spoke to each other but actions spoke louder.

Stanza 9-He was sensitive and made sure not to hurt. I wanted more. Now that it’s over I dare us to do it again. Tore in the last sentence means to hurry or speed up. But Tore also represents him. Contrary to the word being in his name, he aimed solely.


I never explain my poems but I wanted to paint what was in my head. This took place in the city while the encounter took place in a house. Both happened in a busy area. People around talking loud and interacting with each other. Yet we found our “wind” in each other to take a moment out of reality and focus on each other. Something I want again.
Cindra Carr Dec 2010
Last night I dreamed again.
I tripped the soul right out of me.
Danced dashed against the moon.
I dove through the night.
Skinned through it to get to you.
Slipped flitted out of my body.
Just slunk over to you.
I screamed my rage at you!
Tore out my heart for you.
If sleep is the little death,
Then I'll see you again tonight.

cc1210
Lizzy Jan 2015
Funny little thing is she,
She laughs at lightning in the storm.
And what most would see as torture,
She inflicts with pride and is not scared.
Her skin is sharp like broken glass,
And through her lover’s skin she tore.

Through her safest home she tore.
Stupid little girl is she.
They try to mend her broken glass
But the edges cause destruction of a storm.
Please don’t run, don’t be scared,
Don’t be a part of her torture.

Running love is her only torture,
Not pain that through her heart tore.
Distance leaves her crying scared,
Unable to control the fear in her.
Maybe she is the rain in the storm,
Shattering passing window glass.

Maybe she doesn’t mind the glass,
She doesn’t think this is torture.
And maybe it’s not a storm,
But a hurricane she tore
Out of her skin. She
Is no longer scared.

The distance does not make her scared.
Her skin is no longer broken glass.
Alive little girl is she.
Nothing more will be her torture.
She doesn’t need the lover she tore.
No longer does she hide from the storm.

Not sunny skies, but no more storm.
Not yet calm, but at least not scared.
Not yet healed, but not torn.
Maybe cracked, but not broken glass.
Some discomfort, but it doesn’t feel like torture.
Strong little girl is she.

Screaming insanely she tore herself out of this storm.
No one will say “she’s gonna lose it”. Because she somehow she is not scared.
It’s a mystery how she fixed her glass, or how she can still tolerate the torture.
King Panda Oct 2015
we had too much to drink and
you saw your mom crouched in
the corner smoking a
cigarette through her
neck hole

you missed with the marble
ashtray and shattered the mirror
with the hand-carved gold-leafed
frame

Melissa screamed

I followed as you tore through
puddles of sunken sidewalk
until you sat
at the bus stop and buried your
eyes

I put my hand on yours and
felt your raining pulse

we got on the bus with the
red and green stripes
hopped off at Wong’s and
bought 3 dozen eggs
to throw at the

lighthouse
The thuds in my chest stopped being my heart a long time ago-
my feelings ceased,
and maybe me,
the initial person I was,
is knocking on my ribs
begging for freedom.
Throughout all the voices in my head,
his is the lowest,
getting tangled in with all the
killers that took him,
torturing him until he's nothing but a headstone.
You don't see it,
but I do,
how I open my mouth to speak,
and he's accepted I just won't accent my words the way he used to.
My disappointment tore up your eyes,
as you saw the person I was
formed by a web of lies I loved to string up,
and tried to pretend I wasn't struggling to
get out-
All feedback is welcome
I wanted to do something emotional, I hope this conveys that.
Hg Oct 2018
bouquets of powder
as white as flowers of zinc

skating thin ice
cutting thin lines on the sink

sniffing inhaling
until his nostrils would bleed

skip to the morning
they find his pale white body

he was so nice
in junior high when we met

his younger brother
smiled exactly like him

the death tore the team
they were closer than magnets

but he risked it all
to fall in the flower bed

is that what we get
when we encourage the dope

tuition’s forgiven
still the parents don’t cope

and i can’t imagine
how hard it must be to hold

a part of your brother
right underneath your own nose
©Hg
Jesse stillwater Aug 2018
Driving up mountain miles
of washboard switchbacks;
jarring the dusty rearview mirror
in my mind:

"but don't look back in anger"  
... I heard you say
stuck in the cloud of dust
befogging my daydream
back somewhere thereabouts
the washed out bridge
that tore us apart
like a flash flood

It was so long ago
since you were running
and I was hiding in plain sight,
from what the storm
in my eyes did tell

Mindful — you were only watching
the growing distance gather;

finding what you didn't lose
looking back to see
   what you can't forget —

like a hesitant child
reluctantly wondering
if anyone was still looking back
at you ―  still running away
from each passing storm


Jesse Stillwater
June   2018
Thank you for reading my soul scribbles
cait-cait Oct 2018
i didnt fall in love with this boy,
not this one
                     who tore me to pieces,

and i feel like an angel ,
suffocated in white, my wings were clipped
on the first day you
                                  wanted to kiss me,

and it feels violent,
disgusting,
my halo wasn’t built just to break —

and i did not forgive you,
i never will .

because you were never meant to go to heaven.
It’s so funny I’m not even religious, I just love religion. Ever since I was a child I’ve used it to cope. The title is lyrics from a really dumb song.
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
You're just a ****** victim
But you can't convict him
For breaking a heart that was untrue
When you were silent then
He never came back again
And all he ever blamed was you

It seems you're the bleeding heart
That he tore apart
But you found your way to another
And when it's all said and done
You are the only one
Crying over a departed lover
Britney Lyn Nov 2017
You were a storm on my heart.
Your gusts of wind took me aback with each breath you let go,
Your words like thunder pounded at my barriers until you came flooding in.
You shattered the windows, tore down my walls and left me with nothing.
Nothing but you and your shallow waters.
his rugged eyes tore his soul,
desperate for a break.
He likes the poison it drips off,
more desperate for its intake.
He seems.... hungry..
but it's not only lack of food.
It's the distance he walks between who he is,
and how he's really viewed.
He acts angry, and he is,
but it's at that part he can't obey.
It keeps ripping up his notes,
so that his real words can never stay.
So he doesn't have thoughts of his own,
or a body, and around his neck?
A vial that keeps getting tighter,
seeping chemicals within to cause regret-
i haven't been on here in FOREVER so I'm sorry, lol. I relapsed and these last few weeks have been tough, to the point where I couldn't write without getting really low inside my head. Anyway, i appreciate all the support I've been getting
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Becca Lansman Nov 2015
When he tells you he is sorry, do not hand him the feast.
Do not make him dinner like he never tore the tablecloth out from under the dishes.

You are not a menu item.

remember that his love is not a reward.
You are not a reward.

You are dinner for one.

Remember how you pulled yourself up on shore. Taught yourself how to breathe again.

You are no longer drowning.

you are the beach, you are the lifeguard, remember how you saved yourself.

Remember to say no.
Say it in the dark, whisper it in his ears, remember your body is not a love letter; it is not a vacation home.

When he says, “ I love you.”
 Do not mistake his lust for affection.

Remember how he ate pieces of your heartbeat one at a time? turned you into a carcass?

Made you believe you were road ****.

Remember how you put yourself back together? Mending each stitch carefully. Embroidering your heartbeat back one lull at a time.

You are still sewing.
You are still making dinner but it is ok.
It is ok to eat dinner by yourself.

It is ok to say no.

Tell him, you only made enough for one tonight.
At last these Plums took the Daughter in Kind
From Lord Raffles' Paradise she adored
A Marriage of Saints she thought to remind
Though behind her Door was Melancholy.
But who a Pony-Child in Fashion's New
Could taste the Recipe she may not like?
Clotted Cream? Or Fish in the River-View
Tore through the Muddy Dress to greet her Delight
This is not the Age, Tories of the West
To switch on Lights dimmed for your Books to read
She is a Sweet-Tooth; Or Filmer at best
Just give her a Spoon; She makes one Great Mead.
She is my Friend. And the Plum's Diver Son
Rewarded a Follow never un-done.
#triciaalexia
L B Aug 2018
The Lehigh is chaffing
at the shoulders of her banks
Swollen
with mood of mud
brown and flat and far too fast

She tore those young girls
from their rafts
Decorated the trees
of a midstream island with them
hanging on like the leaves and silt
once did

Their cries swallowed
as she roared past
harvesting souls with clinging hands

Chosen
to be victim
Chosen
for a reason
to be spared
To see the news story, cut and paste the link.

https://www.lehighvalleylive.com/lehigh-county/index.ssf/2018/08/all_accounted_for_fire_chief_s.html
All I am asking you for
is a hint to your metaphors,
What's written on the papers you tore,
'Cause I always seem to want more
All of them, even neithers and nors.

Another thing I want to enquire,
If you're in a place that's oh so dire,
and need a shrink who's free to hire,
Any work I have, meh, I will retire!
To spur you on, all humour & satire.

If you give me but a glimpse into your world,
Cross my heart I'll show you mine unfurled.
I'm neck-deep into this person, she already knows how i feel. It's been 4 months since my confession, and i still couldn't find a way to get over her. She's found someone and i hope she'll always be happy, so here's a piece to always remember her by. To R. You're the only girl i've ever loved with all my heart, and know that you'll always have a special place in there.
Alyssa Underwood Jun 2016
Who believes what we’ve heard and seen?
    Who would have thought God’s saving power would look like this?
The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
    a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
    nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
    a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
    We looked down on him, thought he was ****.

But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
    our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
    that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
    that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
    Through his bruises we get healed.
We’re all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost.
    We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we’ve done wrong,
    on him, on him.

He was beaten, he was tortured,
    but he didn’t say a word.
Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered
    and like a sheep being sheared,
    he took it all in silence.
Justice miscarried, and he was led off—
    and did anyone really know what was happening?
He died without a thought for his own welfare,
    beaten ****** for the sins of my people.
They buried him with the wicked,
    threw him in a grave with a rich man,
Even though he’d never hurt a soul
    or said one word that wasn’t true.
Still, it’s what God had in mind all along,
    to crush him with pain.
The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin
    so that he’d see life come from it—life, life, and more life.
    And God’s plan will deeply prosper through him.

Out of that terrible travail of soul,
    he’ll see that it’s worth it and be glad he did it.
Through what he experienced, my righteous one, my servant,
    will make many “righteous ones,”
    as he himself carries the burden of their sins.
Therefore I’ll reward him extravagantly—
    the best of everything, the highest honors—
Because he looked death in the face and didn’t flinch,
    because he embraced the company of the lowest.
He took on his own shoulders the sin of the many,
    he took up the cause of all the black sheep.


~ Eugene Peterson
~~~

"Who has believed our message
    and to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?
2 He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
    and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
    nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
3 He was despised and rejected by mankind,
    a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
    he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.

4 Surely he took up our pain
    and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
    stricken by him, and afflicted.
5 But he was pierced for our transgressions,
    he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
    and by his wounds we are healed.
6 We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
    each of us has turned to our own way;
and the LORD has laid on him
    the iniquity of us all.

7 He was oppressed and afflicted,
    yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
    and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
    so he did not open his mouth.
8 By oppression and judgment he was taken away.
    Yet who of his generation protested?
For he was cut off from the land of the living;
    for the transgression of my people he was punished.
9 He was assigned a grave with the wicked,
    and with the rich in his death,
though he had done no violence,
    nor was any deceit in his mouth.

10 Yet it was the LORD’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer,
    and though the LORD makes his life an offering for sin,
he will see his offspring and prolong his days,
    and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand.
11 After he has suffered,
    he will see the light of life and be satisfied;
by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,
    and he will bear their iniquities.
12 Therefore I will give him a portion among the great,
    and he will divide the spoils with the strong,
because he poured out his life unto death,
    and was numbered with the transgressors.
For he bore the sin of many,
    and made intercession for the transgressors."

~ Isaiah 53, New International Version

~~~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZ47-KYUdpE
Bored of beauty.
**** and ***
blizzard white teeth
insertable parts switched out like lego blocks.
Inching away from this faulty form
with which I was imbued in genesis.

Long live that junk, ******!
Gimme those thighs!
Let free that emotional magma
boiling up from beneath, ready to burn this world
or at the least leave your laces singed.

The tip of this iceberg will bring you all down
so ready the life-rafts.
Gimme that.

Don’t give me blizzard teeth, silent in a quaffed muzzle.
Be the jaws, the howl, the tender tongue on young necks.
Great stories don’t read “one day I was beautiful”
they say “the world seized me and tore off my limbs, and I toppled end over end til I came to rest between the legs of the Colossus

and that’s when it got interesting.”
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