Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
King Panda Feb 2016
the clay patio was baking
just hot
enough for the dough to rise and crisp
and for you to spread your blanket
in the sun
perfect for a picnic with the kids
and observing the man on that really tall bicycle

it’s times like these when you think
why doesn’t everyone just shut off
and bake in the sun
with a glass of peach tea and a pair
of well behaved kids
who share life like it was their job to love
each other
their mother
dad
and especially
the old dog

even the young lovers get jealous
as their gaze from the park to
your front patio
witnessing that there is something more to love
than just body heat
chocolate-dipped strawberries
and jazz clubs
that children grow like spinach flowers
in mellow
medallion
heat
until the training wheels come off
and they feel earth’s balance for the first time

and the peaches!
they shackle the branches
like juicy bombs
and you decide that
mothers are like fruit
unbruised
unwashed
and perfect
something that God
herself
keeps in her finest
crystal bowl and replants
in the summer

mother
sister
friend
shoot me some of that peach tea
you’re drinking
that sun you are soaking
that air you are breathing
the world needs more of you
and you deserve the last taste
of its summer light
Penelopejayde Apr 2015
The upbringing of a person could lead to a frivolous publican.
A brother and sister are both witnessing the featherbrained fool.
This world we live in is a bit bamboozle

Escaping to a state of ecstasy with your purple kaleidoscope why don't we shape the future and use cinnamon soap.

With your undercoats it's an antidote for a hurtful situation
It's like we are burning in ice.
Your a magician but you can't stop stupid.

Adolescents knowing the need to finish yet they are taking over to much to cope.
So now they are discovering, considering, cinnamon soap.
My first poem
Patricia Soriso Jun 2018
---

1. how long have i been awake?

2. my eyes are heavy from witnessing the same ****,

3. like i’m stuck in a cursed time loop of desolation,

4. but i’m more than scared to close them for i might stumble upon the ending of my unfinished dreams and decide to not open them anymore

5. how long have i been like this?

6. i hum a good song in my head to silence the thought of entirely giving up

7. hoping that a perfect rhythm and melody is enough to imprison the horrifying memories that’s been living in the corner of my mind for too long

8. i wish that i hold more words to tell my truth

9. and that my body is strong enough to handle its aftermath

10. i wish that i still have time to witness the sunrise

11. even if every time i breathe –

12. i feel myself fade away
Christian Ek Sep 2014
There was no way I could make her happy. The only sympathy I could offer her was my shoulder.
A place where her black tears could dry on my collared shirt.
How could I numb her pain.
I couldn't tell her "this is not the right place" or "people are looking."
Feelings aren't meant to be bottled up inside I figured but relinquished like the make up leaking down on her cheek.
At that moment I had the privilege of witnessing the uncovered human in her.
AK na Makulay Nov 2019
Sa kasaysayan ng aking bukas na pagkamulat
Hindi lamang kaalamang pang-ibabaw kundi pati panloob nami’y binulabog
Hindi lang hinayaang sumakay sa bangka kundi pati pagsagwa’y itinuro
Binuksan ang inaakalang hindi na mahihigilap o matatagpuan man
Pero higit pang liwanag ang iyong ipinadama, at ipinahamon sa dilim na nagtuturo

Binusog mo kami ng kasaganaang higit pa sa inaasahan
Sa yakap ng pag-irog, pang-unawa at pagtuklas
Pamilyang naging karamay sa bawat hirap, gutom at pagsubok
Tunay na tahanan ng mga propeta, tunay na naging huwaran sa aming kalagitnaan
Hinubog mo kami ng may pagkakakilanlan buhat sa aming pagkakaiba’t iba

Kinalampag mo hindi lamang ang aming tenga, bibig at mata
Ngunit buong pandama nami’y iyong ginigising
Pati ang kaibuturan ng aming mga laman at buto
Inilubog kami sa karanasang nakakapagpabago
Upang konkretong sumaksi na may tapang at dangal

At dahil dito, sama-sama’t magkaagapay tayong kumikilos
Nakikiisa sa tanging layon ng Kristong sinusundan
Ang bukal ng kasaganaan at kahulugan ng buhay
Patuloy na bibigyang kulay at padadaluyin sa ugat’ dugo ng pakikibaka
Hayagang ipalalaganap at isasabog sa buong sangnilikha
Na may pagkilala sa Diyos na Buhay, ng Kasaysayan, Kaayusan, at Pag-ibig

Pagpupugay sa Tahanan ng mga Propeta, Union Theological Seminary!
Sa Sampung Dekada at Labindalwang Taon
“Masaganang Nananahan,
Buong Diwang Sumasaksi,
Bukas-palad na Naglilingkod!”
Isang Pagkilala sa Union Theological Seminary!
AK Tadiosa|October 20, 2019
Skaidrum Oct 2015
...
Ͽ
I'm witnessing the night erupt in celestial warfare;
Galaxies upon the fleeting edge of collapse.
Constellations rise as warriors
Planets fall as if they were empires
Shooting stars committing suicide
Eclipses; full-fledged victims of ******
Toxic comets threaten disaster
Supernovas; spells of death
Starlight diminished by the savages;
Nebula messages slaughter hope.
This is a massacre of our milky way~
Our universe;
a brilliant display of
a civil war.

Ͼ
Goodnight.
...
Sweet dreams.

© Copywrite Skaidrum
Skaidrum Oct 2015
...
I've got a few visitors tonight;
they're all associated with the wolf under my eyes

I.
I've left loneliness to starve on a stone table,
while jealousy can bleed me a lake;
fear and I are equals,
on the battlefield of fate.

"Pay no mind to the rebel."
II.
Forked tongues recite wickedness; of all
the shadows gaining power as the sun was slain.
Black flames banish all that is golden,
as darkness bent my silent skeleton;
but it didn't break.

"I'm just some sin you committed...right?"
III.
A basilisk waited for me at my chambers,
it requested a lullaby, and a glass of iron wine.
Who knew poison would be my new best friend?
Who knew my company would be kept by
an oracle of silver'tongue?
Dead languages clutched my
lively secrets.

"Every wolf gets tired of the moon at some point."
IV.
And just like that;
We were splintering at your wolfsong
auburn poems at the feet of trees
waist deep in misery you sat,
head crowned in autumn's diseases.
Witnessing you tilt your head to plant a kiss
on the night's wings;

"Oh, it's ******* agony."
Watching your eyes harvest hurricanes
love sinking in tongues
of ebony sorrow.
they don't belong to me
you don't belong to me.

"I suppose I can't change the world
but I will leave it colder."

V.

And sometimes, love is just the aftermath
of a tragedy.

...
I deserve to suffer over you, Lycan.
I always have deserved it,
this is my curse.
© Copywrite Skaidrum
O
Light & darkness
Love & Hate

Are they not the same thing?

Darkness is a mere absence
of light
just as hate is the product of
love missing

Yet love is infinitely desired
more
by having to experience
a warring relationship for it

Just as the understanding of morals
wouldn’t possess the same strength nor depth
without witnessing the affliction
of sin

In search of utopia

it’s easy to forget the beauty of
the imperfect existence we have
Briar Ren Dec 2018
Indescribable
is the woe I felt
at witnessing the
cruel aftermath
of heartbreak,
and struggling
to mend it.
Now it's your turn to mend me.
Umi Dec 2017
When the Devil falls he brings us pain
As if it were Acid to rain
Just like that, I give in, there's nothing I can gain

Such a falling devil, who lands on my heart
And then decides to tear it all apart....
And all of that simply because I have lowered my guard

I cannot put myself to rest, this life is a hell without an end
And while this demon consumes me slowly and wants me to bend
I am witnessing the loss of my one friend

What is happening, am I crazy, am I mad ?
But that shouldn't be bad...
If I seal myself away, this devil won't make me sad

I don't want to be evil I don't want to be twisted...
But its my fault because I have not resisted...
Maybe I have become a devil
Maybe this is my downfall
No, theres no need for you to bring me into the judgement hall

Just throw me into hell...
I know I deserve it well..


~ Umi
The mood seems desolate at dusk,
a time when emotions are on the rise;
The shining hours of day are gone,
and mystical images confront our eyes.

Not quite sure of what we see,
in the vastness of the indigo skies;
'Round about the glowing lamps of light,
keenly focused upon iridescent sights.

Are we witnessing life's mysteries unfold,
the way our elders' stories told ?
Yet darker still our evening grows,
shivering, shaking in the windless cold.

Sitting close on our front porch swing,
seeking wonders of imagining;
There they go--the ghosts of our youth,
which beckon still despite the sting.

We're not alone as visions float by,
and dawn reveals what the future may bring.

Frances McClelland
July 17, 2016
Kai Dec 2018
We're so used to violence in our schools and on the streets
that when we go home and see it it's in the back seat.

Witnessing a crime against family,
it's like we have lost our own humanity.

The plague in our minds.
Minds, mindset with no direction.

No distractions

So we take to the bottle
with nothing but empty sorrow.

We drowned in them,
overfilled with liquid hate
and pushed down by the sorrow we saw
and felt in every corner of our lives.

We drank till we thought no more...
Thoughts, Experiences, and Witnesses. I saw violence again today, in school and outside. Why can't we do more? It is me and you who have to put a stop to it. A new generation rises up, don't burden them with today's problems.
Joie Yin Aug 2018
Lovebirds

An old man sat with patience
On the bench he waited for her
He smiled sweetly on her appearance
Hand in hand they walked together.

In the garden full of greens
The lovebirds chatted with laughter
As if they were in movie scenes
The way they looked at each other.

He stroke her hair gently
Her hair clip he'd bought years ago
Still intact she placed it neatly
That is the little pink flamingo.

Pleasant breeze they enjoyed
As they continued walking
Her fragile nature shivered
In her thin floral dress clothing.

He took off his outer layer shirt
Naturally putting it on her shoulders
She joked about wearing a skirt
He thought she was full of wonders.

He recalled her bravery
She reminisced his sacrifices
They've come far in life's journey
Counting their little happiness.

As I watched from a distance
I felt a pinch of sweet jealousy
Witnessing true love's existence
Yet wishing them to stay as lovely.
Joie Yin
zebra Aug 2017
a black bat
hangs upside down
digesting a fly
his face almost human
a flying Frankenstein

he excretes
puddles of guano
like miniature buttered popcorn
a dark and wavy goulash
gods gift
to beetles and worms

dizzied overheated men look on
to an uproarious variety hour
of song and a high heeled kicks
inspiring
a tempest of throbbing
whisky drenched
folded ***** and cash

trouser trout fish,    
undulant
sexed up
tape worms for love
pulse the night
egging on bunny **** pom poms
devout finger puppets of Eros
for
shimmering ****** lipstick twilled vibratos

sequined tassel spinning areolas
and lavish come **** me dance girls
bring down the house in flames
making hearts apostate
clamoring
and melt men like steaming everglades

the bat
hangs from the chandelier
licks his black lips
and looks on to panorama of hieroglyphics
hearing music
a thunderous nonsense  

witnessing visions
of
flies, tasty white winged moths
and the thrill of screams
while biting the head off of another bat
in a claret stained red velvet cabaret
Her red roses have thorns
Her black demons surreptitiously lie
It's like witnessing good flora be dissolved
By potassium hydroxide
The only trouble with her is this:
All the while she is looking inside
With a magnifying glass
For each and anything amiss
I'm viewing her with a kaleidoscope

Yet I magnify the intensity of her colors
While she resides within
Her fractured self-image
But she's metamorphic
Beneath that stress and pressure
These tests cause duress
And weigh heavy burdens
Upon her chest

Yet instead of diamonds
She produces a blue sapphire
Something a little brighter
To which she can hold on tighter
I hope the load feels a little lighter
As I throw my rope in
And climb down there with her

Picture us collecting leaves
With hearts on sleeves
Forming jewels, relief swelling our heads
Instead of the familiar usual ache
Of wondering fools

Let's weave and wind our own designs
And leave the threaded webs
Of past mistakes behind
To the point in time
Where pressing rewind isn't so lonely
Stones can be cold, or shine like silver
Because we both know that gold
Is cheap and phony

But not the heart of the ocean deep
With devotion,
A jewel of eternal love
With Blue Sapphire eyes
I will light up your dark skies
And reveal to you the stars above
This poem is dedicated to the brightest light in the room. I love you.
SJG Jan 5
The last diamonds in the sky
Have gone to sleep.
And if my intuition is right (as it hardly ever is)
Then it’ll take three spins of astral weeks to keep
Us in the pockets of the spirit of poetry
but god forbid we ever use it for anything approaching
A chemical lift; I fear these days, we do not even deserve joy.
Eternal pessimist that I am, I cannot begin a verse
Without witnessing the pastry of human endeavour
Collapse into a guileless mess.
zebra Aug 2016
she was young
and had struggled all her life
like a cursed devil doll
with the darkest impulses
pain was ***.
*** was pleasure
and death she thought
oh wow thats an ******

while her little girl friends
all
may berry kittens and sunshine
screamed in terror
at the horror films
like minced mice in cleavers

she thrilled to the part
where little innocent
katty bratty blondy
got it hard and ******
with an ice pick in the belly
and then stumbled
around
waring her surprise face
blink-less
trailing blood
finally getting to the ice box
pulling out her last
ice cream on a stick
and while eating it
fell head first into the cooler
dead

she thrilled witnessing
the girl poked through
like butter
by a guy with eyes
like spider bites
in a jet black
motor cycle jacket
and electric bolt tattoos on his face
all blond
duck assed
jelled like filigree in
wild root cream hair tonic

she imagined his ****
pink longish arterial
a real throat gager
she, helpless, sacrificial
and oh so willing
being murdered by a boy
who loved her that way

his **** a
a piercing blade
the very death of her
her little hot pink ***** *******
a gooey cauldron
of drooling tears splatter

she thought
how can any body want this
Oh but i do
*** yes please
sunflower Jul 2019
To love someone, is hard.
It feels like someday everything will grow apart.

To love someone, is precarious.
It feels as if the world will end and I'll fall down.

But to love you, is ethereal.
It feels like watching the sun sets.
Slowly and all at once, out of sight.

To love you, is surreal.
It feels like watching the flowers bloom, in winter's cold.
Almost impossible.

To love you, is a blesssing.
It's like watching the brightest star in the darkest sky.
Igniting the light in me.

And to be loved by you, is an honor.
It feels as if I am on top of the world.
Witnessing only the beauty and grace the earth keeps.

I love you, my only one.
With every inch of me.
For when I'm lucky to be love and to be loved.

ㅡ n.s
Tammy M Darby Dec 2018
Sailing through purple skies unhindered
And breathe crystal snowflake frosted air
Floated past the mysterious Weeping Mountains
And yellow forests called Warlocks Fair

Trembling
Wandered the underworld
Drunk with false courage from Cretan wine
Leapt bravely from star to star
Journeyed through red starred scattered galaxies
Witnessing the birth and death of time

The finality of the forever feared tolling
The ringing of deaths solemn bell
Conjured this was in my mind quite carefully
For I am she who tells the tale

Commanding the heavens and the earth with my pen
To me the four winds bow low and kneel
The water robed river nymphs pirouette
  Wild horned stags vault high to my music
You must admit the scene quite captivating and surreal

The moon kiss my cheek with shy affection
Apollo grace me with a sunburst arrow of gold
Syrian lotus seed the door to the universe
  Held tightly in small clutching hands
Where lies stories soon to be told

  She who tells the tale
Sprung from blood of ancient lands
Portraying in ink and script
The dark images of man.

@ Copyright Tammy M. Darby Dec. 12, 2018.
h
Next page