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 1143° 
Rose
if roots can wait,
beneath the earth,
for a rain they cannot live without.

and if the stars wait,
lingering in dusk,
just to see the moon once more.

then i,
full of burning ache,
can wait too.

I will wait for you.
he broke up with me
 862° 
A Vryghter
“I’m getting sick of it, Darling.
Poems meant for you, I mean.
I want to grow, yet my heart doesn’t.
And that’s your fault.

I want to write the forest dry,
but my head doesn’t wander.
I try to forget, will I regret it?
But the trees keep sprouting.

I’m feeling ill, my love.
‘Cause you forget my name.
I’m stuck, the trees closing me in.
I don’t have an axe. I stay.

I want to throw up words.
Get sick of paper in my mouth.
But my heart seems glued,
Repeating the same.”

A.V.
when you love someone who doesn’t love you.
 686° 
Poetato
Some parts of your journey
Are only temporary
And maybe, this is one of them.

It teaches you a lesson
About losing, accepting
And at last, letting go.

It might feel heavy and dark
Yet that's where the light begins to seep in,
Slowly bringing you back home
To yourself.
Well, such is life. Imperfect, yet ours.
 477° 
hannah
if all the creatures in the world
blinked at once
would i still exist?
TURN INTO ZOMBIES
WHILE OTHERS JUST
ROT IN THEIR GRAVES?

Zombies are just like you and me: they crave understanding and
physical displays of love. Many ex-lesbians report that their form-
er lovers often become "zombified" before jumping off the top of
the Washington Monument (obelisk). These jilted lovers are
like ice cream that doesn't get hard or Walmart cashiers
with large **** cysts that make squatting painful.
 339° 
Riri
Beneath the boughs where twilight spills its gold,
The whispering winds through blooming meadows glide.
A river sings where silent secrets fold,
And daisies nod with grace the hills can't hide.

The sky, a canvas brushed in fading flame,
Reflects in pools where dragonflies alight.
The lark ascends and calls the sun by name,
While shadows dance beneath the birch’s light.

In Nature’s hush, the soul is softly stirred—
A truth more pure than ever man has heard.
 243° 
Soul-in-poetry
Flower petals fall
A sweet reminder of death
Of how a flower–
Is slowly rotting away,
The second it grows petals
 240° 
Nastia
A tiny beetle
Shimmering in the sun
All the colors of the rainbow.
Like benzine spilled in the rain.
 231° 
Selma
I know love is real
Because you never confused me.
You wanted all of me,
And I have been
Bathing in devotion since.
 218° 
Adnan Hasan
Some departures we choose,
and some departures are forced upon us—
They arrive with the weight of mountains,
practiced in hesitant steps,
as if dragging the entire world behind us.
We move forward a little... then glance back a little,
for behind us lie things, dreams, souls,
to which our hearts remain tethered.
 190° 
Carlo C Gomez
~
Lipstick to void. She is a race against time. The beveled past a disruption in her lines of influence.

Travel is dangerous, and tonight it darkens the highway of blood vessels coursing through her extremities. She wants to be luminous and under the skin.

While Dorothy dreams of tornadoes in Kansas, she dreams of remote climbs in lesser Glasgow, of party drugs in Tokyo. How many lights does she see?

In her hair are sixty circuits. But she waits, religiously inclined on the hotel bed. She drove through ghosts to get here wearing nothing but Las Vegas.

So strange at this hour, in a city full of sleepwalkers for the taking, she now dreams she's a bulldozer, she now dreams she's alone in an empty field.

~
 136° 
Shahriar Hosen
Oh gentle breeze!
don't touch me, I'm cursed.
Oh gentle breeze—
I'm not sacred enough,
I'm guilty, I'm abandoned,
I'm like a pile of trash in the holy land!
Oh gentle breeze, never touch me.
I don't want to leave you tainted!
Oh gentle breeze,
sweet gentle breeze—
Don't touch me!
 128° 
PhantomSavage
I
Dont
Understand
Life
I
Dont
Understand
Myself
I
Don't
Understand
Anything
I
Don'­t
Understand
Please
Help
Me
Understand
How
To
Survive
The
Calm
Af­ter
The
Storm
After
So
Long
Living
In
The
Hurricane
 123° 
Amisha priya
If you feel
Life is a rejection
Just thank god
You just
Escaped from
Life injection! ....
 111° 
Kai
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
How about respect my boundaries
Respect your place
Mind your business
Stop cyber stalking me, Ryan
Before I figure out where you are and smack you in the face
NO???? IM NOT GOING TO RESPECT MY ELDERS IF THEY DONT RESPECT ME AND THATS FINAL.
 109° 
Chameleon
I could hear the
cracking and breaking,
the sound of metal ringing,
and then a thud.
I watched as the last piece of
self respect I had
got hauled off as I typed
the words,
“can you please consider me?”

This has to be like the
millionth time I have asked
A man that I’m dating if
he could treat me with the same respect
I give them.
And the answer is always no,
well in his case,
he won’t answer at all.
 104° 
Juniper
My heart is on a plate
Starting at me
My brain has a desire
A disease that makes
Life hard life not life
Thing or people make
The pain go away
But it always comes back
The pain when you cry
The tears falling on your pillow
The fear of what your family
Or friends are going to say or
What they will do
The doctor will listen
The doctor will help
But it’s the pain that always
Come back
Therapy does not always help
 102° 
DENNY R ALLISON
A fellow poet said,
   I might
        be a bot!
I want to insure
    everyone,
     I'm most
       Assuredly not!
For I'm certain,my
   poetry would
     improve a lot!
 97° 
Orjeta
“At the end of life, when the final breath escapes, everything we chased loses meaning.

A single breath takes a lifetime to release—yet still, I wonder:

how many breaths must be drawn and lost before we truly grasp the values that matter in this world?”
Inspired by the quiet truth that visits us when it’s almost too late.
 96° 
Arna
Giving fake smiles...
Hiding pain infront of family...
Confusion of what to share and what to hide...
Fear of perspective changes...
Fed up with sympathy around...
Being unloved...
One side efforts...
Losing loved ones ...
Getting stranger vibes from close ones...
Taking blame without fault...
Lack of clarity in life...
Handling panics on your own...
Bad?
Probably the worst!!
The silent struggles people go through — especially the pain that hides behind a smile and the burden of emotional isolation.
"If you relate, know you're not alone."
 96° 
Anugraha
In the depths of my mind,
dishes pile high on the sink
stacking on the countertops
and leaking on to the floor
with dried crusty food
now too hard to scrub down.
And the laundry basket has overflown
The basket no longer in view
Now, just a mountain of clothes
And the table has never been cleared
The bedsheets never changed
The ceilings joined by cobwebs
And the bathroom floor all grimy.

A house is like a machine
Requiring frequent oiling
Frequent repairing
Like a newborn baby
It can't help but wail through the night

And I've tended to it like a slave
Day in and day out
All the while growing the clutter in my own.

I can't seem to help it
It refuses to forget
You laid the foundation and built it
Brick by brick
Where love resided once, has been suffocated
By clothes and dishes and dust and dirt,
And you ask me where the love went
It's there somewhere
Perhaps in the laundry basket
If I can find the bottom
Or in the drain  
Or on the bathroom floor

I just can't seem to find it.
 94° 
Nitin Pandey
✦The Elsewhere Draft

It isn’t death.
Not in the way they told stories of it.
There are no tunnels, no lights,
no ledger of sins.

There is only this—
an unfinished page
floating between versions
of a world that never quite agreed on him.

He exists now
in the folds between edits,
in the italics no one remembers writing.

The clocks here don’t tick.
They hesitate.
The air tastes of typewriter ribbon,
dusty and old and waiting.

He’s tried to rewrite himself.
He’s left messages—
on paper, in dreams, in the weight of silence.
But stories are stubborn.
They follow the first draft
like it’s law.

And yet—
someone heard him.

A fingertip
brushed his absence
and read it like Braille.

She.

She is not like the others.
She feels the narrative bending,
even as the others stay inside the safe plotlines.

He watches.
Or rather—he is watched
by the idea of her.
Somewhere in her world,
his journal still waits to be opened.

He doesn’t know what happens
if she turns the next page.

But if she doesn’t,
he may remain here forever:
a sentence misplaced,
a man lost
between revisions.
#thought
In Chapter Seven, move gently back to her—but now, she’s sensing it. That blurred edge between grief and unreality. The journal pulls at her, not just with memory, but with something alive. The chapter lets deepen her inner world while letting his presence stir in quiet, eerie ways.
“You are not a reader, you are the revision.”
 87° 
Robin Edwards
Suddenly we see
At the corners of our eyes
The cost of our love
 81° 
IsabellaVE
<3
I didn't know you existed
All my life I've been searching for you
Our eyes meeting
Hearts beating

From the first look I loved you
Our souls instantly intertwined
My hand caressing your cheek
Soft touches like how the water caresses the beach

I didn't know you existed
Until I finally found you
No I have not found love, but I hope it feels something like this
 78° 
ProfMoonCake
I love all of you girls,
I watched you all fall in love
Met your partners
Cheered at your weddings.

I love all of you girls,
The fancy jobs you have
The places you go to
Smiled at the pictures.

I love all of you girls,
As I sit here
Alone at café
Thinking about the time when
It was easier, simpler and just us

I love all of you girls,
I hold your pain with dignity
Life seems silly when you are around
I guess, I missed out
You all caught the train
When I walked along.
just tell me what i mean to you
No sé qué sepultada artillería
dispara desde abajo los claveles,
ni qué caballería
cruza tronando y hace que huelan los laureles.

Sementales corceles,
toros emocionados,
como una fundición de bronce y hierro,
surgen tras una crin de todos lados,
tras un rendido y pálido cencerro.

Mayo los animales pone airados:
la guerra más se aíra,
y detrás de las armas los arados
braman, hierven las flores, el sol gira.

Hasta el cadáver secular delira.

Los trabajos de mayo:
escala su cenit la agricultura.

Aparece la hoz igual que un rayo
inacabable en una mano oscura.

A pesar de la guerra delirante,
no amordazan los picos sus canciones,
y el rosal da su olor emocionante
porque el rosal no teme a los cañones.

Mayo es hoy más colérico y potente:
lo alimenta la sangre derramada,
la juventud que convirtió en torrente
su ejecución de lumbre entrelazada.

Deseo a España un mayo ejecutivo,
vestido con la enterna plenitud de la era.
El primer árbol es su abierto olivo
y no va a ser su sangre la postrera.

La España que hoy no se ara, se arará toda entera.
 68° 
Ian
the brush of rothko,
caresses the white canvas—
harmonious blend.
 67° 
minx
keep it sweet
but i just really wanna
grind on your thigh
while your hand
softly strokes my side

i wanna be yours
but we have different interpretations
you wanna be my daddy
but i want you
to be my daddy

i can't help it
you can't help it
you're so excited
kissing my neck
snaking your hands tight around my waist

daddy, daddy, daddy
the endearment is so twisted in my mind
you won't ever be my daddy
but you'll always be my daddy
i'm so, so innocent, but am i really ?
whoops...
 62° 
bleedingink
What if,
one day,
you just can't
anymore.
 62° 
Ankush
Stand
Sit,
Slouch
Fall.

Stand
Fall
And
Sleep
All

Feel
Touch
&
Stand
Tall,

Skipped
Sit
To
Eat
All.

Breathe
Deep
To
Watch
Walls

Stand
Climb
Stairs
Then,

Sit
Sleep
Feel
Stare
Skyfalls.

So
Just,
Stand
Sit
Eat
Sleep-
and fall.
 60° 
Gabbro
I will  · ·
Try constantly to make · – · ·
Harmonies, tapestries, poetry – – –
That praise your radiance · · · –
with ·
messages so carefully invisible – · – –
Concealing beautiful testaments – – –
To you— Encoded · · –
The Syllable counts are morse code for I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U  
:))
 60° 
Pedro Salinas
¡Qué pareja tan hermosa
esta nuestra, Contemplado!
La mirada de mis ojos,
y tú, que te estoy mirando.
Todo lo que ignoro yo
te lo tienes olvidado;
y ese cantar que me buscan
las horas, sin encontrarlo,
de la mañana a la noche,
con blanquísimo estribillo,
tus olas lo van cantando.
Porque estás hecho de siglos
me curaste de arrebatos;
se aprende a mirar en ti
por tus medidas sin cálculo
-dos, nada más: día y noche-
gozosamente despacio.
No quieres tú que te busquen
los ojos apresurados,
los que te dicen hermoso
y luego pasan de largo.
No ven. A ti hay que mirarte
como te miran los astros,
a sus azules mirandas
serenamente asomados.
Tú, Lazarillo de ojos,
llévate a estos míos; guíalos,
por la aurora, con espumas,
con nubes, por los ocasos;
tú solo sabes trazar
los caminos de tus ámbitos.
Con las señas de la playa,
avísales de la tierra,
de su sombra, de su engaño.
A tu resplandor me entrego,
igual que el ciego a la mano;
se siente tu claridad
hasta en los ojos cerrados,
-presencia que no se ve-,
acariciando los párpados.
Por tanta luz tú no puedes
conducir a nada malo.
Con mi vista, que te mira,
poco te doy, mucho gano.
Sale de mis ojos, pobre,
se me marcha por tus campos,
coge azules, brillos, olas,
alegrías,
las dádivas de tu espacio.
Cuando vuelve, vuelve toda
encendida de regalos.
Reina se siente; las dichas
con que tú la has coronado.
¡De lo claro que lo enseñas
qué sencillo es el milagro!
Si bien se guarda en los ojos,
nunca pasa, lo pasado.
¿Conservar
un amor entre unos brazos?
No. En el aire de los ojos,
entre el vivir y el recuerdo,
suelto, flotando,
se tiene mejor guardado.
Aves de vuelo se vuelan,
tarde o temprano.
Los ojos son los seguros;
de allí no se van los pájaros.
Lo que se ha mirado así,
día y día, enamorándolo,
nunca se pierde,
porque ya está enamorado.
Míralo aunque se haya ido.
Visto o no visto, contémplalo.
El mirar no tiene fin:
si ojos hoy se me cerraron
cuando te raptó la noche,
mañana se me abrirán,
cuando el alba te rescate,
otros ojos más amantes,
para seguirte mirando.
 60° 
Robert Vasile
Fe
La misma fuerza de querer tan profundo es la misma fuerza que nos va a salvar de oscuridad, solo hay que confiar
Porque si rozas la oscuridad te contagias de odio
Pero hasta en el odio hay amor
Por eso llegará el día en el que pierdas el miedo y recuperes la fe
Te necesitas, levántate
 57° 
neth jones
dismember                          
the jamming fight of my breath
your reciting
the wit that exudes you
i hack mad laughs                      
the room becomes rude hot
              and we burst our fleshes
the seasons collect in some deafening syrup
but still the walls are music with vermin
mushroom tea       you and me
[notes : inspired by Remember  by Joyce Mansour]
 57° 
Lost Potential
For you. If it meant my life filled with misery just for a moment of joy in your life I'll happily live in misery
 56° 
Akriti
I can't stop you
from leaving me

Just as you can't stop me
from loving you .
 56° 
Maria
Save me! I'm so afraid of falling off
All radars and locators of existence.

Save me! I'm so afraid of waking up
And making sense that I'm at far distance.

Save me! While it's no late at all,
While I can hear the pain inside and see the light.

Save me! While it's still possible.
While I'm here, cause tomorrow's my affright.
Thank you very much for reading this poem, my pain... 🙏💖
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