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Haylin Oct 2018
These words will not rhyme
These will be words true to the heart

Late at night I sit crying in the dark,
Wondering if this will last,
Wondering if you will still love me
after I hit my breaking point

I want this to last through high school
I want this to last through college
I want this to last through time

When you go off to college
and I stay here in high school
I hope you stay true and loyal to me
I just hope you never leave

But if you do,
That
Will be my breaking point

But I wonder and hope
that this will last forever

I'm just wondering
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
A fine mole down
the blue mountain sky
cannot be weighed out!
It's the cosmos's gold dust
the earthy depth triumphs.
Oh earth, our close clay-star
is far ahead of the day at noon.
Ahead of the moon
ahead of the Neptune!

With a million dash of curiosity
every new sunrise paints
upon her black box with the roaring fire.
Yet the ****** is a veiled wonder!

It has the heaps a room for everyone
and time for the timeless times.
Guess, with her longhand
what an inside scoop did it pick out?

You too can be in the know
It's the feminine beauty all in all.
Forget if you have already
seen million and one.
The earth is eyeing on only one.

Her closest admirer is the star
of the very luminary bunch
with open eyes in the hearts.
Her dead man is waking up
sniffing the daylight by her.
Yet to make the discovery
both are still wondering outside!
They say "When it comes to love, Never settle for less."

And it left me wondering
Why did you choose me?
Dahlia Dec 2018
I think in poetry,
my thoughts convey rhyme.

I imagine in pictures,
just passing time.

My dreams carry meaning,
a slightly dull chime.

All these things in my head;
I'd be better off dead.
Cné Aug 2017
A tentative touch unsure
of erotica I've yet to explore.
Her sweet ripe ******* allure
my watering mouth can't ignore.

Tickling teasing touch to ignite us
giggling on our high
Soft soothing caresses in between
wondering why I was so shy...

Our fingers tangled in long blonde hair,
then gently stroking soft warm skin.
Bodies writhing, legs entwining,
where she ends, there I begin.

Oblivious to our thoughts
enambered with desires
Lips of wine in heated passion
soaring pleasures even higher.

Perfumed oil on bodies glistening,
**** laughs and playful fights.
Lace and heels and toys aplenty,
Girl, we'll make this last all night.

By EJ and Cné
A little wine
A little laugh
A little pleasure
For our own behalf

Thank you EJ for such inspiration
https://hellopoetry.com/elizabeth-j-1/
M-E Jul 2018
I’m the nameless, nobody
Born of a nameless, nonexistent mum
And a nameless, nonexistent dad
In a placeless city
New in town and I don’t mind
To re-shape my mind
By a town that is so ruthless,
So thoughtless and -
Maybe
I am feeble
But certainly in a new form
A new coming storm,
A cyclone,
A cyclops,
A mongrel
Annihilating,
Devastating,
Decapitating your approval and pity
I’m glass, seen through and sharp
An undecipheral writing
Meticulously weird and uncanny
I’m a boy, a girl
A maniac,
A brainiac,
A pyromaniac,
A junior granny
It’s funny
Wondering why I’m the way I am
You sculptor -
I’m leaving,
Somewhere where I will not find you
For the bullied and the forgotten generation.

Can’t we find a solution instead of demolition, intentionally or unintentionally?
We are proud individuals
who feed into bold lies
spoonfed like we're blind
through hands of our deceitful leaders
still they rise.

Technology is forever shoved in our face;
"hurry up n buy it!"
(before it reaches expiration date)
consuming gadgets at such a fast pace
may that be the devil
that determines our fait.

In the hands of the media we lay
side by side on a sinking ship they say
far, far and further away
we depart from real life
and sink into a screen of shame.

Our can fake a smile
but their tears don't lie.
and though we let them remain on those sites
we sit, we sigh
and spin our glasses of wine
all the while wondering why we see them
with blubbering hearts and watery eyes.

Our elderly generation
worked all their life
hoping in their older years
that they could relax for a while.
Instead they have to sit there
with frail hands and ghostly smiles
overlooking us poison the planet
and see it turn cold and vile.

We drink until our heart is liquor
we love until our love turns bitter
our emptiness then begins to spread-
until on the inside we all go dead-
and it spreads quickly
and painfully
like the plague
and everyone is too far gone to save.

"Men are to be machines"
We say with a hand on their shoulder
as we push them out the door
off to a war
which will scar them so much so
that they won't want to live anymore.
And while not even a trace of a scar
sits on their skin,
the blood which seeps from their bleeding hearts
soaks and stains deep within.

Mass confusion;
we look to the sky
for the answers we need finding
within this cold society.
We disagree until we die
about matters of no relevance to you or I
but fury is the new joy
and may we fight until all is destroyed.

So many harsh whispers in the streets
so many expectations no one dares meet.
Some go insane
just to be the same
but just who is this madman
that we all aspire to be?
Does he have a name?
Has be ever been seen?

If now was your time to die
would you be happy
with the content of your life?
Or would you be regretful
that for the most part
you were entertaining society's lies.

If you're not happy with the way of human progression
then be the light in a sea of grey
and this horrible new game of life
you will no longer play
and instead serve now to define
a new society.



Jazmine MacIntyre
12.05.2019
Inspired by 'Iron Sky' by Paolo Nutini.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2013
Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
Nonetheless,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath


Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
Perhaps,
it is all I know.


Jan 6, 2013
your effusive and lengthy comments are each a poem in their own right.  

Tinkered with June 22, 2013
With a push from Bala,
A serial peeper, thank God!
Debbie Brindley Jul 2017
I meet a baby girl today
Who stole my heart
carried it away
All it took was to see her face
and my heart was
taken to a special place
A place filled with
love
hugs
and smiles
So much love
it stretched for miles
It's a wonderful place
where these hearts go
If your wondering how I know
Because
it's a Nana's heart
you see
And that heart filled
with so much love
Well that heart
belongs to
Me
Met my first grandbaby today. A beautiful little girl. She made my heart melt
This town ain’t doin it for me
As I weep beneath the willow tree
I thought how could this come to be
When you’re the only one I see

And now I sit here and ponder so
About the things that I don’t know
And wonder what our time would show
With the moments shared so long ago

-AJT
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
avalon Aug 2017
one more time, she whispers,
she whispers violently, tremulously, like an addict whispers
to the fingernail marks in her skin, like persephone whispers to pomegranate seeds, like sin, and her whispers collect on dollar bills in the wind, and the money flies home but she's still sitting in that bin,

wondering if Hades ever regretted his win
ryn Jan 2015
Wondering,
if the universe flinched,
when God took you away.*
- dakota


Will I grace your thoughts when the moment comes?
Will your universe come to a complete standstill?
Will you choke back your tears...
Or by the buckets would they fill?

This pain in my heart
What is it?
I know now it's love
I know now I was bit...

I clutch my chest and begin to think...
Of the splintered shard I had failed to extract
I feel subdued and ultimately shattered
By the crushing bitter ripples of a broken pact

I'm hurting much
But strangely so...
I'm beginning to savour it
More than you know...
Line taken off dakota's 10w - "These words are not mine to keep" for Frank's "Let's Do A Line!" challenge.

Her quote caught my eye and heart the moment I read it and thought, "Wow... That's a great quote!"

It made me think and reflect on my place in the universe. Wondered if whatever I felt would send out ripples into the universe around me.

Thank you dakota for this inspiring this write...
Nick Feetchi May 2017
I dare to dream of unthinkable things,
which are definitely beyond my means,
to escape to a place,
but never explored,
the beauty of you,
the one I adore,
to relinquish the feeling,
in need of healing,
wondering thoughts of where you are,
desperate measures,
simple pleasures,
still, I dream of those unthinkable things,
beyond my reach and yet ------- still I dream,
Bryan Lunsford Apr 2018
I'll never be able to love again,
Well, at least not like the way I loved you,
As this night is a little before three, but well after two,
I lie wide awake in this bed unable to sleep beside a woman that I don't want to pursue,
With my mind wondering,
How do I leave her without leaving a bruise?
And wondering,
Will I ever be able to love another woman,
Like the way I loved you?
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