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 Jan 2018 D Eaf
Sean Murray
Most I know want something more
What? They aren’t sure
If they knew they’d tell me
“I wanna be a Mother”
or
“I want to be an astronaut”
But they don’t know, so
I don’t know

Most I know are scared of the world
The world is going to attack them;
fall in on them, squash them
It will come as they see it
It will come as an immigrant child, or,
It will come as Donald Trump

Well I’m not afraid of these things
And if either these
Dare block my path
I’ll shove them to the side
I will get on with it
Because I am stronger than those things
My words don’t make me weak
If yours do, you’re using them wrong
 Jan 2018 D Eaf
Francie Lynch
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Finally. I'd been striving for a one word poem. After achieving it, I wanted a no word poem. Here it is. I guess this is no longer mine, but ours.

"The Invisible Poem" was selected as the Daily.
I'm humbled... to say nothing.
But I believe a response is necessary.
To all those who liked, loved and commented, I say thank you. I've read all you've written, and most of it is very creative and complimentary.
There are others, detractors, who claim "*******," etc.
Well of course, this only begs the question, "What is poetry?"
I can't answer that. I've written on it. But what I do know is what poetry should do. Its purpose.
If a poem should arouse emotions, bad or good, make people think, have people want to write, to express themselves (and I believe I'm on the mark here), then, anything can be a poem. Even a page with lines on it.
Thanks again to all the readers.
And if you're still *******, don't attack me... go after Elliot. :)
 Jan 2018 D Eaf
G Valentine
A mask is something we wear to hide our real selves. Some of us wear our masks all the time while others don’t even realize they have masks at all.

Her mask is the epitomy of wealth and prosperity... so why are you on food stamps?

Her mask drives a bmw.....is that why you can’t make your car payments?

Her mask buys fivoluous **** that she’ll never use...is that why you overdraw your bank accounts?

Her mask is a lie she’s lived her entire life....is that why you wasted all your money?

Her face tells the real story...your irresponsible, self-serving, with an insatiable appetite for anything that you can’t have.

A mask helps you pretend to be someone your not.

But the thing about masks is...

They all have to come off eventually.
 Jan 2018 D Eaf
Johnathan locke
The gardener tends to his plants with love and devotion
From the daisies to the tulips and the hydrangeas in rows
But one flower he gives the most attention,
Was the beautiful, blood red, prickly rose

Every day the gardener cared for the flower,
Savoring the sight with his eyes and the scent with the nose
Yet when he goes to touch it, however,
It's thorns would cut him and from the wound, blood rose

Sometimes to himself, he wondered
Why something he loved so much
Would oppose him so violently
And deny his touch

Even as he asked himself, he knew the flower didn't know why
But he knew he had chose
He would always love, till the day he'd die
His beautiful, blood red, prickly rose
 Dec 2017 D Eaf
ryn
Puzzle
 Dec 2017 D Eaf
ryn
I don’t expect
people to ask.
And I don’t hope
for others to
understand.


I’m a puzzle
only I can solve.




Actually no,
I can’t.

.
 Dec 2017 D Eaf
ryn
Pottery
 Dec 2017 D Eaf
ryn
Of mud and clay,
drawing strength from the sun.

In the heat,
insides harden even if layers begin to peel.

But in the rain,
the shell concedes and starts to run.

All is left,
is a puddle - stagnant and bereft of zeal.
 Dec 2017 D Eaf
Evan Stephens
The first thing that happens
is the world collapses.
That is, it reduces down
but only I seem to notice.
Everything becomes flatter,
the depth stripped away
like rotted lumber,
like when they gut a building
but leave the historic facade,
and I feel like I'm limping
postcard to postcard
until eventually like I'm peering
into a discarded diorama,
where everything is smaller
than it should be,
the crudest copy of itself, and
everything is bounded
by shoebox limits
I can sense them everywhere.

The second thing that happens
is that I avoid everyone.
I avoid my mother on Christmas,
I can't look my therapist in her eye,
I cancel a date because
I can't handle the contact.
I touch my skin and it's like
touching paper that's been creased
hundreds of times -
old pulp that frays and splits.

The third thing that happens
is that I lose interest.
I put in whatever minimums
the day requires
and not a scratch more.
I put my mail aside
and watch crows
gather on the branch,
facing the valley,
black eye to black eye,
base wings folded against
the sleek unbearable body.

The last thing that happens
is that life cheapens.
It's hard not to notice,
since the papers and the news
and everybody's phone
blasts forth the parade of death.
No one is spared, children,
animals, the happy, the hale.
And soon these thoughts -
that life ends without reason,
that God has retreated from the world,
that no step is worthwhile -
begin to bleed in my head.
They lead to the paralysis
of a patient wrapped in gauze,
leaving only the eyes free to move
and notice the great black wing
that scythes into the valley,
feathers dark as stout,
the sun setting in its usual
incompetent way, the wing
so graceful that it might be
the only beautiful thing,
falling out of sight,
into nothingness,
down the *****
into the stale dusk,
into the exact center
of a limitless depression.
 Dec 2017 D Eaf
Aishwary Nigam
Don't turn away.
Cause I am the same person, you couldn't take your eyes off once
I know it's hard, being ignored
Meeting the same person for the first time everyday
I am sorry for everything's faded
But I want to make it up to you
Can we live in the past?
I know you loved me then
I know somewhere you still do
I promise, I am the same
I am the same
I am the same
Wait, who are you again?
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