Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
ryn Sep 2014
Destination home...
Making my way
Sleepy heads leaning
End of the day

Different people
Diverse ethnic races
Same endpoints
For us nameless faces

Where we're headed
Timeless cues
Rain-stained windows offer
Only blurred views

Beautiful display
Droplets colliding
Like liquid missiles
Crashing and merging

Yellow street lamps
Neons on buildings
Vehicular signals
Intermittent flashings

Reds, greens and ambers
Fighting for attention
Blues, whites and their hues
Feast for perception

Myriad colours
Refracted and broken
Prism induced dispersal
Little light show haven

Quite the spectacle
This dance and flight
Kaleidoscopic effect
Between water and light

Rain didn't abate
Unleashing full fury
All of us still safe
Capsule of tranquillity

Watching the chaos
Still silently looking
Overwhelming wonder
Heart is choking

Found myself tearing
At the sight of this view
Realised for certain
That I'm missing you...
Bus ride home in a rainstorm. Beautiful...
Nina Nguyen Sep 2018
I got scars on my wrists
Cause there are scars on my heart
Held together by seams
That are falling apart

I see the crimson pain
Fall on the floor
There is still no feeling gained
And there’s a knock at the door

I wipe it away
I pretend and I play
To be just fine
Just so I can hide

My friends aren’t what they seam
Because they’re letting go
My heart starts to go numb
And my death is feeling slow

You say your heart is numb
Because there’s no desire
But mine is not the same
Because it’s filled with fire

I feel every little spark
When you poke and **** my heart
When I am faced with hate
My mind is set ablaze

Your rivers are frozen and dry
But mine are flowing through my windows
It doesn’t mean you don’t cry
But I have soaked my pillows

Your empty desert eyes
Are different from this ocean of mine
But neither one matters
Because we both wave bye from inside
Ashleigh Black Oct 2014
Around this same time
every night
sadness sweeps in
through the cracked,
swaying window
and overcomes me
with chills and tears
that not even an empty bed
can keep me warm
and it's all because
you used up the last bit
of happiness I had left
inside me.
Jaslin Goh Jul 2017
Windows high or low, windows sing or woe (if they could effect sounds)
Windows are protestants of peace; often the mediator between the inside and the out
They tirelessly shield us from the rain and sun, the dust and even noise, sometimes the wind itself too; so things don't topple over
There are times you open them, when you look out and think of an adventure out
There are also times you close them, when you seek some respite
Windows, if anything, are the forgotten heroes of time
They are your guides, your decision-making helpers, as is the Spirit
Their panes (pains) are to be taken care of, wiped regularly for absolute clarity
They nudge, with the help of wind sometimes, dying not to be ignored
They crave interaction with its user, oh if only our owners knew they cry
Knowing how to operate them for full utilisation is truly, a skill
Notes on the Holy Spirit
Your eyes are like windows
They let the light through
The dark place I lived in
Will never be true

-AJT
I can’t look right at you
Because if i do you might disappear
Like a dream in the morning,
When the yellow light is seeping through,
That slips from between your sleep soaked fingers
Out of the open window and into the air
I can’t look right at you
Because i might be blinded by the existence of you
Loud and bright and hot
Like a star
Like the sun
So overwhelming and painful to touch but so warm to be held by
sometimes i get overwhelmed by how perfect a moment is. like driving fast with the windows down, i can’t look right at it or it’ll all be too much. so i look out the window instead
Monika Layke Jul 9
If you want the fruit to fall,
be the light in my eyes.

If money’s a matter,
a fiend is in my blood.

I don’t need to sell my soul.

Summer days,
champaign.

Be the light in my eyes
effervescent flood.
grace Dec 2017
you* *should sleep.

i can't. are you   tired?

no, i wanna talk to you.

sunlight streaming through windows,
       soft skin,
             a dream with warm brown eyes,
a sleepy snowfall of kisses and snowflakes stuck to eyelashes,
   honey spilling over the floor,
              love spilling through lips,
sleep stuck under fingernails and pulling mouths into long drawn out yawns,
              the night leaving its soft bruises under eyes,
hearts beating slow as the sun creeps its way up through the sky,
              time dripping like molasses

goodnight

goodnight

i love you

*i  love you too
September Roses Aug 2018
Crystal eyes
Fall for them
Over
And over
Drown in oceans stormy grey
Lost in forests emerald green
To get drunk inside and snap away to sober

An underground lake cavern
A still, silver cargo ship docked by the bay
A sky and sea beyond the windows
2pm on a shady spring day



Catching a glint in the light
I find my teeth biting my thumb
Oh god how I love to gaze
In what you use to gaze apon
Targeted towards absolutely anyone with eyes, at all
gracie Nov 2018
it's how he's gentle, drawing me close
when I shiver; how he holds my hands,
cold fingers nestled in the warmth of his palms.
how we return to a certain forest, admiring trees flushed
in hues of gold and scarlet; how reality fades away as we walk,
drowned out by the bubbling of a stream.
how I adore his honeyed voice, soothing like the patter of rain
on backseat windows; how the taste of coffee lingers on his lips
when he presses them to mine so softly,
so bittersweet.
how I feel myself falling, but I still run into his arms
because"it'll be different this time."

but how can I outrun reality?
too close too soon, i guess.
Daniel Ruiz Sep 2018
if you sit in my room,
and with a good angle look outside,
you'll see a plantain tree,

in the house behind that plantain tree,
lives a little kid who called me an *******
for throwing his ball back a little too hard,

behind that plantain tree,
lives a kid who has got in
a lot of fights,

a kid that has a great scar that no one can see,
that no fight or bad words can fulfill.

well,
let me rephrase that,

behind that plantain tree,
lives a 70 year old woman,
who's daughter died,
and had to raise a kid on her own.

a plantain stain it's not removable,
a plantain stain,
stays in ones clothe, and skin.

the same way tendons break,
and leaves scars on ones heart.

that plantain tree hasn't given any plantains,

but it does work for a great metaphor.
Neobotanist May 2
The early morning sun filters through the lace of the curtains,
to form delicate patterns on dewy skin
 
I watch you, taciturn, take the tessellations
and convert them into mathematics
so that we can enjoy them later as music:
light, tangible form.
 
Exactly twelve hours later, you point out to me
the star that we came from:
a pinhole light
in the soft velvet, overhead abyss.
 
'Why can't we remember anything?' I ask,
and you just smile.
I pause to give a glance fleeting
to see you look up through wet lashes
And when your dark eyes lock on mine
All I see are windows
Silverflame Aug 2018
my old futile dreams
make the windows all misty
ripping up the seams
blood mixed with ancient whiskey

a smile around the corner
lures the naive mind
******* up the world order
another death wish signed

overhead, brick by brick
the november wind stands still
heart oozing of homesick
empty thoughts keep my glass refilled

delusions cover my sight
faraway lights blink with eager
fixing the crooked night
dinner with the grim reaper
A poem I wrote last year, which I someone managed to delete with my clumsy fingers.
Tommy Randell Nov 2014
Up steep streets
I repeat
In a dream
Words seen in windows
To myself
Sub-vocally

Turning right
And Northward
Left and Westwood
Checking number plates
For initial surprises
Numbers for primes

Multiplying
The number of years
By the number of days
Adding the leaps
The few left over
Beats

To arrive in the viewfinder
To stand on the edge
To look at the scene
To breathe with the light
To know finally that I am
The lens
Amy Leigh Sep 2014
Little cracks like weeping windows
we grow opaque
and under the pale blue moon
(tainted)
you seep into my soul


© A. Leigh
I can’t
remember
a time
when
I wasn’t
staring
into your
eyes.
PC classic Feb 2017
city concrete crawling horizons

all preposterous blazing everywhere

God above looking
at his creation
with an empty feeling
like alcoholics looking
at their wallet
after a week long ******


Like nights that don't stop at the door


like Tom with running shoes and Jerry with a Tom resistant suit


the streets are empty but the windows come alive
and the houses wake up
and there is light from the TV
and a child watching Disney Cartoons
and a parent ringing the doorbell
and dinner table conversations with the evening news on

and outside the dogs on the street chase every other vehicle that pass by

You don't even have a license.
Sharon Talbot Aug 2018
The frost is still there,
Throttling the rhododendron leaf,
And ice stalls the dissolve
Of the stone-like snow,
Yet I am happy.

The sun-rays are almost Etruscan,
Filtered low through lace and blind,
Like that ***** of sunset on Irene’s hair
Sad “couleur de feuille-morte”.
Yet it is sultry.

I can open a window
And breathe the warming air
Finches flock close, careless,
Now desperate for food
And pluck menescent fruit
Off an ice-bound branch.
In the distance, a cardinal sings.

Thick drapes are drawn aside
And geraniums strain toward the light.
In a nook outside the door,
An old cat basks on a corner of sun.
He yawns, seeing me, and strolls across the snow.

All nature seems to wait, but poised,
For the final unfettered token.
Will it be a sudden, favonian breeze?
Or the robin’s unrelenting noise?
Telling us, “Winter is broken”?
This is pretty obvious: it was one of those days in winter which seem so close to spring.
laura Apr 2018
Fell in love last friday
with a non-binary star
woke up and brushed my teeth
with sunglasses on thinking
of them

white shots of hail and the windows
jeweled from the rain
a hot week and hot nights
followed by a hot star
and sheets of rains from grey clouds
changing
they DJ’d at a party and i got rly drunk kayyyy

edit: thx angela for lighting this one up :3
Tommy Randell Aug 2018
I dreamed a Life where living was nothing but Dreaming
I walked through mirrors room to room as my mirrored self
Walked by me his eyes downcast so as not to know his future
Or show me mine.

Going into town I strolled in and out of Shop Windows
Watching myself there across the street wondering on the meaning
Of all my other selves reflected and refracted
Swimming through light. Separate journeys but one destination.

Are we so many? Bounced window to window down the street
Do we rush ahead to a future which changes before we arrive?
Or lag behind to notice what we missed perhaps the first time?
What do we get up to elsewhere on our Time-line?

Later shaving I looked myself in the eye and tried to see
Thought of being in the mirror and separately trying to be me
Only to make myself smile only then to make myself wonder
Which of me smiled first..?
Next page