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Kat M 5h
A cornucopia of wanderlust rushes through your heart
And out comes the sing of a daisy-covered alter
Bleaching the wind beneath your limestone arches
Giving rise to the spindling spider unburdering its web
Let yourself be cuddled within the feral carnage
Of a crawling lullaby seizing the perfection
Only crafted by a darkened rainy day prolonged
By the flutter of a butterfly's wing in the night
A twilt knighted fighter emerges through power
Of outdated appendages ignorant and stumbling
Into the daytime needed to cleanse the confusion
Of his or her worship in the picture of a castle
As if it is her as if it him as if it is only an idea of reality
Plastered across the pages of another digital escapade
Landing in the marshes that make up your life now
If only you could be found in that messy forge
Feedback Welcome!
SF 6d
Soy yo, y ¿Que más da?
Me miró al espejo y odio mi aspecto,
Bueno, quien soy mejor dicho
Y por la clase d persona que me he convertido

Rompo el espejo por miedo,
Miedo a saber que de verdad soy así
Huyó del reflejo, de las miradas de todos,
Basta, yo se quién soy y quién fui

¿Se pueden callar?
Solo quiero respirar y volar
Llora y reír
Cantar y brillar

Sin embargo el pasado me ha de abrazar
Y yo he de mirar
Ver en qué me convertí
Y ver cómo me marchite
James Aug 20
You arrived in my life like a summer’s rain,
Unexpected, unearned, but exactly what I needed.
A downpour filling the empty riverbeds of me,
Healing the cracked earth where love once tried to grow.
There I stood, arms wide open, letting you soak into my skin.
A feeling of unending, everlasting, love.

But the thing about rain,
It never asks where it is needed, it just falls.
I thought love was something to keep,
Something to hold in cupped hands…

I didn’t know it could be a season,
A passing storm that never stays.
Yet I thought, maybe,
Just maybe,
It was me.

The way my trees blew in the winds,
The way my roots stretched too far.
Were these the reasons that sent you drifting?
For your rain to fall on another land…

The thought of you still pains me,
The rain that once was still remains deep within the wells of me.
But as years pass on,
I still stand.
Greener than before,
Grateful for what once was,
Hopeful for another rain to fall
This is my first time sharing a poem. I have written this In varying forms in my note books over the last few years, trying to capture both the hurt and personal growth I feel from a past relationship.
Naebaegreen Aug 19
They say love is beautiful… But my love came with scars
Let me tell you about this boy I met.
But this—
This ain’t no love story.
This ain’t no flowers and butterflies and hug story.
Nah.
This one got fear inside.
Dark corners inside.

And I still can’t believe it.
How I let him break into my heart—
Brought fear.
Brought jealousy.
He Said he loved me…
But all he brought was sweet lies and misery.

And me?
I was crazy over love.
I believed anything.
And I don’t know why I didn’t stand up—
Because I’m strong-witted, right?
But when it came to that *****—
My armor fell.
My crown slipped.
And I handed him the throne.

I let him break me down.
Pulled my confidence to the ground.
And all my friends hated how I let him push me around.
I had a village—
But love had me deaf.
Turned their whispers into static
Just so I could worship his silence.

By the time it was over—
He wasn’t even human.
A demon in disguise.
And still, I stayed.
Delusion made me feel like
The universe spoke for him.

That ***** told me he loved me…
But he didn’t mean it.

And let me tell you why I’m mad—
‘Cause loving him was like signing a contract
Where my name was written in blood.

He broke my heart,
Threw me in the glass.
When he was done?
Picked me up—
And threw me in the trash.

And now,
Now this—
He can’t take back.

This the funny part—
But it ain’t really funny.
It’s just sad.
I still have all those scars
From being thrown through that glass—
But that’s what I needed.
To show me that love
Shouldn’t hurt.
That pain
Was what I needed to take my final step back.

I rose.
I finally chose
Peace
And not pain.
this is not a love story its a story of strength and growing
Pavel Rup Aug 19
Гром грохочет! Дождь — стеной.
В небе молнии сверкают...
Сильный ветер налетает.
Дождь примчался затяжной?
Скоро, скоро всё узнаем.

В городском дворе — аврал!
И машины завывают...
Дружно фарами моргают.
Смотришь — «телесериал».

Но светлеет неба свод —
Снова голуби летают.
И дождя не замечают...
Посмотрел я — дождь прошёл!

Кап-кап-кап — на подоконник.
Посветлело. Дождь прошёл.
Ну а что всё это было?
Полчаса — и всё вдруг смыло!
Дождь покапал и ушёл,
Пошумел он — побеждённый!

Вот и солнышко сияет.
Ну, как не было дождя...
Только лужицы сверкают,
Да асфальт блестит слегка.

Ох! Вороны всполошные —
Всё о чём-то: «кар да кар»...
Кружат танцы вековые —
Всё, как времена былые.
Так кружится белый свет.

Кружат грозы, кружит время,
Ненаглядный белый свет!
Не узнать другое племя.
Время есть?.. Уже и нет!

Annotation:
This poem captures a summer thunderstorm as it happens: the roar of thunder, flashing lightning, the chaos of the city — and then, just as suddenly, silence, light, and reflection. From fleeting raindrops to eternal time, the verse moves from vivid everyday images to timeless meditation on life’s transience.
Shane Aug 18
A painter paints a canvas full of pictures;
A picture paints a moment trapped in time.
A poet writes a poem to be pictured;
A poem paints a picture in the mind.
Naebaegreen Aug 17
But yet—
what do I do
when at night,
in my lowest moments,
I still think of you?

And sometimes,
even on my darkest days,
I still think
of what I would say.

And the wind blows
that bittersweet scent
of a hot summer day—
it makes me think of nothing
but the memories.

I think of how
we weren’t meant to be.

And it’s weird,
’cause I feel like
when I think of love,
I only think of lessons.

But this time?
It wasn’t a bad one
I had to learn.

I learned
that we came
into each other’s lives
before we were ready—
and just maybe,
our foundation
wasn’t steady.

And just when
I start to forget again,
the wind blows
that bittersweet scent
that pulls me
right
back…

It reminds me
of the girl
who loved
before she knew how.

She felt as though
she loved too quiet
while you loved too loud.

And when it ended,
yes—it hurt.

But not because
somebody broke her,
but because
they both held on
too tight.

And sometimes I think of how
two souls held on too tight,
because two hearts wanted it,
but just couldn’t get it right.

We tried.
God knows—we tried.

But we were two people
whose love wasn’t enough.

So we left—
not out of hatred,
but because staying
would’ve ruined the memories
of those hot summer days.
a take on love that came to early to handle and the memories that linger even when its gone
Naebaegreen Aug 17
I never write about love.
I just write about what happens after.

Because writing it in black and white
would mean it’s real—
and I’ve never had real, no matter how hard I tried.

And let’s be honest,
I don’t believe it’s real.

You can’t force real,
because real is the little things—
the acts of love.

Like showing up without being asked,
loving without being begged,
standing up for you
in rooms where everyone else sits silent.

It’s the way they make space for all of you,
shining light on the parts the world
would have told you to hide.

I’ve never seen it.
No acts of love.
No one showing up.
No loving without being begged.
No one standing up.
No one making space.
No light shining on all my flaws.

So I don’t write about love.
Because I don’t believe it’s real.
a reflection on a love that I've never seen and the acts that are suppose to make it real
Limes Carma Aug 16
I’ve seen how fast
A life can pass
Yet I’m too tired for life’s dance
Too worried about the egos
of the worlds cast
And too stressed to pick up the trash of my own little worlds past
got married
at twenty-nine.
never planned it,
never wanted to —
until it felt right.

but if i could,
i’d rewind the tape,
strip it all back,
do it differently.

no family
because you’re supposed to,
no friends
because they had us at theirs.

no fortune spent
on a venue,
music and meals,
waiters and bouquet.

we got caught up
in the planning,
caught up in the daze —
the RSVPs,
the website,
the save-the-dates.

if i could do it again,
it would be just you and me,
paperwork signed
in a quiet room,
me wearing my raccoon tee.

don’t get me wrong —
i love the photos.
i loved the dress.
i loved the faces
of everyone there.
but the ceremony,
the nerves,
the performance —
that’s not us.

if i could do it again,
it would be bare,
honest,
without disguise —
just ourselves
when no one’s around.
this one is about how we both wish we had waited, and made it ours instead.
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