Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
No song could ever replace
The music in your voice,
A melody so pure and sweet,
It makes my heart rejoice.
No image could ever capture
The beauty of your face,
A vision of such loveliness,
No art could ever trace.
No sunlight could ever match
The light you bring to me,
A radiant glow that warms my soul,
And sets my spirit free.
I give of my heart freely for the energy your visage brings me.
Stay close dear soul, in this tempest’s gale,
Where shadows threaten to unravel and assail.
Don’t walk away, for within our shared breath,
Lies the tether that keeps us from the edge of death.
When separation looms, life turns grey,
A canvas devoid of hues, where dreams sway.
No longer peaceful, but dark as the night,
The stars obscured, hopes fragile light.
Unbalanced and unhinged, thoughts collide,
A maelstrom within, where sanity hides.
Yet fear not, for within chaos, strength is found,
And clarity emerges from the tempest’s sound.
Manipulate yourself, weave threads anew,
Craft resilience from fragments, bold and true.
Regain control, as a captain taming the sea,
Steering through storms towards serenity.
This tempest, fierce and wild, shall let loose its hold,
Releasing you from chains, stories untold.
And winds subside, and skies unfold,
Know that within your spirit, courage takes hold.
Tetiana 5d
I will live in spite:
I will be proud of life,
I will cherish the warmth
It will have many forms.
I will fight
I leave all the pain aside.

I will live in spite:
You'll find light in my eyes
And wherever it lies
It will grow and thrive.

I will live in spite
If you want to destroy me
You'll **** my body
but my spirit will be alive!

--
Ukrainian:
Я житиму назло:
пишатимусь собою,
плекатиму тепло,
що жевріє в неволі
і як би не звело
сміятимусь від болю.

Я житиму назло:
в очах цих буде світло
і де б не залягло -
там виросте й розквітне.

Я житиму назло,
захочеш мене вбити:
ти тіло умертвиш,
та дух мій буде жити!
When we cast a stone in anger’s wake,
Ripples return, our peace they take.
For in the hurt we choose to give, lies the pain within we live.

Negativity, a shadow cast,
In our spirit, it holds fast.
A burden heavy, dark, and grim,
Dimming the light that shines within.

Yet,when we sow seeds of gentle care,
Love returns, to us, fair and square.
For kindness shared is kindness gained,
In the cycle of life, so ordained.

So let us choose the path we tread,
With thoughts of harmony, not dread.
For when we heal, not harm, we find,
Peace of body, spirit, and mind.
The energy we give is the energy we receive
polina Jan 6
Maybe art is exposing my soul,
Leaving it raw and vulnerable under
The gazes of all those
Who wander in the museum of my
Heart.

Maybe art is an exercise in understanding,
Where we strain to make sense of
Darkness we’ve never seen the depths of,
Or light that we long to be warmed by
But can’t quite reach.

Maybe art is a meeting of kindred spirits;
An understanding that you were never alone,
Even when you were drowning and no one
Could hear you scream.
Far away, your words echoed, and in
The mind of another lost soul,
They found their place on the page.
a thank you to art for opening up my heart
Zywa Jan 4
He is dead, and she

writes me from his mobile phone:


You don't have to cry.
Story "App-arition" in the collection "Night side of the river" (2023, Jeanette Winterson)

Collection "Stall"
Odd Odyssey Poet Dec 2024
Your thoughts crash like thunder, a cacophony of pain, swept away
by the tempest waves of your hair; how ironic it is that men gaze
upon women’s ******* as if they were an oasis in a parched desert.
They possess a strength akin to mountains, while the valley of your
tears floods my vision. Within your form lies the purest fulfilment,
resonating through your very bones; how swiftly it transforms into
verses etched with sharp precision.

Our flesh and spirit coexist, yet they remain eternally apart – we
chase satisfaction in the simplest of joys, our spirits yearning for the
heavens, while the flesh craves a taste of heaven through one hell of
a life. With a gentle gaze, your lips ignite a wildfire, taming nothing
but the primal instincts you believe you have tamed.

The thirst for love flutters like a hummingbird, sipping from a nectar
we cannot measure, unaware of how it nourishes us or for how long.
I oscillate between life’s most profound moments – for human
pleasure demands no concentration, only the act of losing oneself
in the moment. Self-control is the very essence of that focus – yet
how swiftly our thoughts become dulled in the enigma of life.

                                            Everything is just an enigma in the end.
Heidi Franke Dec 2024
That voice
Inside your head
The untrue you
Past and future dread

Remnants wanting to shape
Events that are not facts
Wanting to control
Anything else

The low burning blues
Up from the underground
Seen when life around
Is shining

Fly above, look out
Beyond your self
Take a peek
Glide right back in

Into your spirit
Into your hope
Turn fear into angels wings
The universe needs you
To stop trying to fix it
'The holiday season shines a spotlight on everything that is difficult about living with depression ... the pressure to be joyful and social is tenfold. " NAMI
showyoulove Dec 2024
In the soft and silent stillness
Of the soul the Spirit speaks
Of conviction and of comfort
And a heart that wholly seeks
The higher truths of Heaven
And the deepest truths of man
That form faith's firm foundation
And discern God's greater plan
The soul that finds repose and rest
To dwell so close to God's own heart
Indeed, that soul is richly blessed
My Lord, my God, how great though art!
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2024
begin this life in a wordy
but wordly habit, daily,
father-gifted, though different,
in form and language selected,
‘tis the one and ‘tis the same

tally, a counting combination
of all that has been done, for both
better & worse, blessing/curse,
the key: revamp review reset
this day upcoming and welcome
all the major tasks, minor miracles,
that one can effect,  select, elect!
by choice, a freedom so great it
tenderly rips joy thoroughly into
and from my cells, and my body
is enlightened, uplifted in this,
now a preposition, a conjugation, a

state of composition,

for the tasks given, the granted,
those that must be taken, those most
difficult, when knowing their choice,
entails pain, untempered, and
requires establishing a two edged
position of composure…

this is a hard and an easy
new proposition I create,
hard for I write on a tiny
phone screen, in letters so
small. it keeps me humbled,
a reminder of having
lived a span well
beyond belief,
for one took\gave body a
careless comfort,
giving little
of the differring
kind of nutrition in order
to live life, well and purposed

hard too, for my body has wept,
a steady stream of silent tears.
unceasing as I scribe,
making vision difficult, the
insight salty but clear and the
words contained within them,
flood for easy laying-down

for this AM workout of counting,
lists up and down, so many items,
of differring nature, even now
noticing for the very fitting first time,
the subtle hint within
differring,
for it possesses a doubling
of the enormity, the division
of what has been already
accumulated and what yet,
needs accomplishing, the tally
needy for resolving looking past,
for seeing with yet more tears
fast-as-you-can-forward

the tally never ends, paused only
for a quick question/happy deletion
of, and a resolute immediate, moving on:

Where do I stand,
what is my position?


keep on keeping on,
tallying has no finale,
no sunning/summing up,
for another day
will yet follow,
for you, and
your own
tallying must
goes on, on
and
not even,
nor even,
odd,
when mine,
mine no long,
and the
and yets,
no longer
commence
646am dec 18 2024
Next page