Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Clay Feet Feb 2015
***
Crack in the ceiling
Expensive repair.

Crack in the glass    
Duct tape

Crack of a switch
Stripe the *****

Crack of a gun
Someone's done

Crack the vein
Relieve pain

Crack of lightning
Frightening

Crack the whip
Obey

Crack my skull
My mind mulls

Crack the mirror
Old wives’ tales dither

Crack the door
It's  her …

Crack of her ***
Beautiful tail
Ends this tight little piece
Quickie
Dev Aug 2018
Wet nose, four paws, and a wagging tail
follow right beside me on an uncharted trail.
We're exploring, but just what for?
National treasure or maybe folklore?
He doesn't know and neither do I.
On a day like this we don't need to ask why.
I stop for a break and he looks right at me.
"C'mon Dev. Let's make it snappy."
I can't disappoint those big brown eyes.
He never complains, frowns, or tells lies.
His only intention is to insure I'm happy.
So I stand back up and give him a patting.
We march on in search of who knows.
Through the highest highs and the lowest lows,
There is always an adventure just around the bend.
He's not only a puppy - he's my hairy best friend.
Dan Filcek Apr 2015
Civil War ran on
They asked Native Americans
peaceful coexistence possessed
legendary skills existed
these men were required to partake
Native Americans knew horrific events
their way
their loss
Three Fires Tribes responded
Ojibway enlisted
Potawatomi joined
Others traveled
trained
cohesive unit was experienced
these men saw
hard service
men were killed
were captured
living hell
no burial ceremony
that journey joined
their story heard
This year for Poetry Month, I decided to post a "found poem" every day. If writing a poem is like painting, a "found poem" is like sculpting. - source - http://roadtoandersonville.com/
Umi Feb 2018
By the evening when it covers the earth softly in a veil of darkness.
As all the colours change, from a bright inviting blue of the heavens,
now softening, losing their glow, as shadows fall beneath the Earth
When the last ray of sunlight has arrived the stars rise in order to claim the sky for themselves, as so does the moon, overshining them.
Vision may shrink due the lack of light, causing many to get anxious if they would have to travel throughout the arrival of the night.
The time to rest has been brought near, but some do choose to stay awake, gazing, observing, watching as the stars above them leave their gentle, slow and most importantly fascinating trail.
Thus for them, the lovers of this declining day, made it their mission to stay awake and admire all the beauty the night serves them.
A time of charming for those who share love, for those who have engaged themselves in the sweet embrace of slumber.
As time goes on I lose myself in this wandering fragnance, until the light of the sun, manages to greet me for a fresh day.


~ Umi
L Aug 2017
300
Something happened. I didnt know how to feel. A walk seemed like a good thing to do. I followed the trail. I got angry. Why? It doesnt make sense. But it does make sense. Why? So angry. Clenched fist and uneven breathing. I cant do this. Stop. Breathe. Stop. Sit. Count cars. 25 cars speeding down the freeway. I see them. Do they see me? 50. Calming. Counting. Losing track. 100. They keep coming. Sometimes many all at once. 200. Sometimes sparce and few. 225. All these cars. All these people. So many lives. So many in different situations. So much i dont know. 300. 300 people have just passed me. Its been no longer than 10 minutes and so much experience has just driven by. I may never know their stories. Never to be seen again. Fleeting. Gone. 300 people who dont know me. Dont know my story. 300 people. Some would care. Some are too busy. Sure, some empathetic. Some feeling pity. Walking. Thinking. Numb. Smile at the nice people passing by. People pass and yet the road seems deserted at times. Walking.

There is an end. Though it maybe not quite an end. Things are not the same but thats where you end up.

I turn around and walk back.
Coming to terms.
Nicole Alyssia Nov 2017
while the sun is asleep and all seems lost,
i retreat to the sanctity and seclusion
of my mind,
in an attempt to connect to the truth
resting in my bones.

i dig deep, but am unable to recall
memories inscribed in grey matter
that have the power to comfort my heart when in need,
but destroy me at my most vulnerable...

i drift into numbness, lost in the fog
while walking a trail towards nowhere

masked by an unusual silence,
alone in my own head.
my sanity cries out to my shadow,
but the burden of a heavy soul
hardly ever makes a sound.

lost in my own world,
drudging through self-doubt
disoriented, disconnected
tired of stumbling over myself
in the shadows, but too consumed
with my own thoughts to break the silence

nothing is not enough of an emotion
to wake me from this sleepwalk
for now, i simply wait until i meet the dawn
patiently waiting, with open arms,
for the Sunshine
to break through the rain
Rob Rutledge May 2012
Take only what you can carry,
Only what you need.
Just enough to feed and water
You and a faithful steed.

Forget the path well trodden,
That will not help you on your way.
Instead forge your own trail
For others to follow one day.

Never shy from an opportunity
Throw yourself through every door.
For this life is an adventure,
Now go,
Explore!
Hisham Alshaikh Jul 2018
Was it love? or was it an arrow?
My heart, you took, left me in sorrow
Your heart, may I borrow?
Till death, I will keep, not returned by tomorrow
My fortune is narrow
That what left my heart hollow
And my face sallow
Your secret, I revealed, left me feeling shallow
Running in agony in the furrow
Towards the nearest tree, willow
With no one fellow
Sitting on the branch lonely with my shadow
What a blue life! Thought it would be yellow!
Memories of you are my softest pillow
Such emotions, I shall not allow
Your fingerprints, your footprints, your trail I will follow
With all of my might, we become the lovers of the morrow
The pill of hope, I will swallow

--Hisham Alshaikh
Was it Love? Or Was it an Arrow?
CK Baker Feb 2017
it falls through the glow of the wintery trees
building a cover under the breeze
luminous lights sparkle and hatch
snow pack high on the briar patch

pine cones fall from majestic fir
squirrel and robin rustle and stir
sitka spruce at tunnel bluffs
ravens roost on cedar rough

dusted peaks at hurley pass
snowline cuts the avalanche
fox and lynx are on the prowl
hollow eyes from spotted owl

cool winds up the valley trail
whirling snow from diamond vale
chilling flakes in candle hands
moonlight shines across the land

northern lights in krypton green
the sounds of verve are bitter sweet
curtains hang on a cold dark sky
counting stars, a lullaby
CK Baker Mar 2017
the walls of inside passage
look the same
from sound to straight
tugs and plugs
dot the coastline
as the quartermaster rolls
giving time for evening glare  

pods are in sequence
as the high tail smashes
and jaws at the krill
white bellies and sea cows
bob and weave
as bow heads glide
over haida gwaii  

northern lights dance
and tlingit chant
as the tide settles softly
on savory shores
their getting hungry in hoonah
as the blue back and beating drums
mark the life blood of the sea  

driftwood nets
and sitka spruce
surround the cook house
ravens and tinhorns
man the scullery
kerosene lamps flicker
as clam shells roast
on open flames  

villagers stroll
on pebbled sand
in the harbor of souls
where ships set sail
on might and mass
into the steady winds
of the golden skies


ice fields (to the north)
of kryptonite blue
cutting hills at
a glacial pace
knuckle clouds
above the snowline
where warlocks
craft a hidden trade  

trappers, skinners
muscle shoals
grizzly feasts
in kodiak bowl
determined pilgrims
on a dead horse trail
in search of gold
the holy grail
CK Baker Mar 2017
fischers rap
on a hot tin roof
bristol creek pools
over rock and seed
english wolfhound (and the barkbuster)
stroll pine lane
vibrant colors
of a cool spring
in cob yellow and
forest green

field mice squander
in cotton wind
goats and ferret
hold seven hour trim
raven and ****
meddle and forage (on a splendid fiaker goulash!)
crickets and frogs
hidden
in swollen grey logs

creepers fill the
cut stone walls
coy wolf high
on a frayed white rope
eagles perched
at trudy’s bend
catamounts laze
on a snow base cedar
(pared arbutus bent  
through a failed ground rock)

brush spider spins
a timely web
brown bears fumble
at the spirit jamboree
quizzical squirrels
crack their nuts
as pillow clouds float
over telegraph trail

12 point dances
on talus and scree
hen hawks float
in a big hard sun
clydesdale and coach
trot copper smith road
(glancing down
on finch and the warbler
whistling through
colander row)

lavender fills
the peat soil box
mountain cats
guard the heavenly gates
black eyed ridge
is wide and open
the country squire hails
this fruitful land
Only way through is not by
self-medicating
or ignoring it
or succumbing.

Accept the pain
as it is the raisins in the trail mix
that is life.
#life #drugs #hiking #learn #raisins
Waleed Khalidi Dec 2014
Did you see the bliss
Shoot across the night sky?
Here then there so quickly
Like a blink could project its moment
Yet when crumbling
Into the quake of memory
It is the window's remaining rain
Trickling down so slowly after the storm
Until all that is left is its drying trail
Clear to see the tired clouds sink behind
A heart so weathered
Never truly sleeps. Never rests
The hallow beats manifest
Into the crippling visions of the night
Blanketed by such distress
Until the rising light does nothing
But awaken the regrets that were left on the nightstand
Like a book with one chapter
No where left to turn
Do you see the ache
Shining dim in the night sky?
Like a footprint in the moon's dust
As alone as one could ever walk
Do you see the shame?
Like forty dying stars
Their fiery, blazing eyes
Watching every paranoid jitter
Greg Jones Mar 18
Yet again I zone out on these back streets
Guided by the instinct
Of my former self.
I can see the past now,
Pretentiously smiling back.

There’s things I can’t escape,
But everything else, I just ran.
My eyes were focused on the clouds.
I can remember seeing the places that I’ve never been
For the first time
And the last time.

I was swinging for the moon.
I knew I would see it soon.
Did I oversleep? Did I overdream?
It still thinks about me to this day.

The past is something I wanna eject from my brain.
Then lock it in a box and never ever see it again.
But the past still thinks of me to this day.

I was swinging for Mars
Or at the very least, the stars.
Couldn’t hesitate, no time to delay.
I’m still trying to find the best way.
But I think back to in that classroom asking myself why.
Why can’t I just walk away?

It still thinks about my everyday.
I still think about it to this day.
ryn Mar 2015
Hues of violet
As the azure meets the reddened sun
Sparse deflated clouds
Floated quiet as into each other, the colours run

Lavender streaks
Trail far into the horizon
Tracking the sunset
As the hour struck seven

Purple gladioluses
Bowed to the evening sea breeze
As if mourning the departure
Of the day's warmth with silent pleas

The orb finally sank
Beyond my sight could reach
Disappeared from here
But rising over someone else's beach

Last dregs of light
Slowly swallowed, giving birth to indigo
This night would last long
Before the first rays of tomorrow...
ryn Oct 2014
my steps are just attempts
to stow away
on the sails, on future's mast

as I walk away,
leaving behind the trail
of my unsuccessful past...
lifeonLSD Oct 2018
He walks by
like I am standing there
in one piece

Unbreakable
at first glance,
unshakable
by the second

How little
does he
know yet

Walking in my space
will not go
unscathed

I hope
he doesn't notice
the trail left behind

That the soft stings
will not get
mistaken

Let's hope
he doesn't follow his
tracks back
Dead Rose One Mar 2018
I am now, I am now...


for reasons you need not concern yourself,
oft disappear for an hour or two,
making an odd combination of
groans and moans,
that she follows like a crumb trail through the forest,
til she finds me and asks if I’m OK,
and answer-true, same-always, when only she inquires,
smile>gritted teeth, laugh line>worry line,

I am now, I am now
September Roses Jun 2018
For a while now things have seemed
A very certain way
But recently
There seems to be
Thoughts leading me astray
I'm very used to the worn trail path that I thought was forever true
But of New
All I can do
Is change my mind of you
It's as if I've been awakened to life on the other side of the grass
For so long now I've looked ahead and let the rest just pass
I thought that what's in front of me must be the best it was
But I've seen the other futures
And now it's all I want
I had this picture
In my mind
Of how perfect you would be
But it seems
just an inch to the right
Was what was really right for me
Doreen Cavazza Apr 2012
The river flows over empty promises
depositing sediment
in the form of confusion and stagnation
leaving a bad taste in one's mouth.
I hang on your every word.
Grainy is the trail
of crumbs left for inspection:
affectation over articulation;
all the better to hear you.
Skim a stone across the surface
leaving ripples of insecurities
and questions past.
The message is clear.
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.
Saudia R Aug 2018
We sit in this room
across from one another
in silence

I try to look at everything
but you

I feel your eyes on me

I feel them roaming
as if your hands are on my body

how is that even possible

it's as if you're right beside me
grazing your fingers where they please

Your lips following their trail

lingering here and there
exploring every dip and hollow

The room feels so tight
this tension is something I can't explain
this silence so deep

I feel so restless
I want to burn something
break something
move

I chance a glance
and our eyes collide

****

what is this feeling
how can something feel so hot

I try to look away
but I'm frozen

I wait
But your eyes are still on mine

A silent challenge

You get up and leave the room

...

And I follow
Next page