OUR ORIGINAL POETRY: Share It Here

& she leaves you love notes

on a dry erase board in the kitchen,

periodic reminders that you're something

bigger than you could know

in the eyes of someone so small.

but it's almost romantic,

in its own funny way--

like goodbye kisses & chinese takeout,

clean laundry & making love in the afternoon;

real intimacy is like a favorite old sweatshirt:

it's comfortable & safe & warm & vulnerable

with little stains & stitches to preserve the life of it--

tiny glimpses of beauty in the mostly mundane.

& i've told you before that i love your freckles,

that they make your skin more interesting.

but,

what i've never told you

is that i didn't notice right away

the ones on your face--

the way they bleed into the soft of your lips

& spill across your nose,

between your eyebrows--

or that they don't stop at your shoulders,

but rather trickle down your back;

nature bestowed upon you your very own constellations.

& i didn't see them at first--

until one day, i did.

i found favorites to kiss.

to touch.

to adore.

& i think that's what falling in love is.

@Xjanex

This one is beautiful!

@Esha222

The subject is even more beautiful. He's really a gift and he has no idea. ❤

Thank you. ☺

@Xjanex

Haha so sweet!

@Esha222

I've been writing poetry about this man for 2.5 years tomorrow. He's seen very little of it, but that should probably change.

(He has seen this one, though).

❤

@Xjanex

Well, maybe you should think about showing the art to the muse.

@Esha222

Maybe. ❤

the moon lost its shine in the dark stillness of a hot room in Pennsylvania one autumn. A friend sleeping silently beside me in our musty room. I watched it through the half-open window, staring back at me, its bright craters seeming to move and darken through the distorted edge. She was like an old companion, wearing a knowing expression i could not yet understand.

Like a clock ticking, I look back and wonder, one more second? A different breath, a subtle turn in the sheets. A longer shower, an extra serving at dinner?

We shift gears and get stuck somewhere darker, the lever breaks. A cog slips out of its socket, a wire freys.
The slow drain of each star from the sky would last for a few years yet, but I recognized a break that night. Something was wrong.

So the parade begins, another child loses her shield, crying out for fictitious souls haunting an illusionary past.

I swallowed a lump in my throat I thought would choke me every night. The panic set in. Alright, alright. Calm down.

In the frost-burned, bright afternoons of deep winter I learned to chase that panic away. I blink and shake.

I think it's the scents that we miss when we wade through our memories. The deep pine of an innocent Christmas, the heavy funk of seaweed, the subtle nuances of your best friend's kitchen.

Yes, we carry the sents with us.

I wait silently for my bright friend to return to me.

@dworth257

Great job writting that!!!!

Poverty

Poverty is everywhere we go,

Little children,not allowed to grow.

Rumbling stomachs,crying eyes,

Detah everywhere, no time for goodbyes.

To everyone, listen to my plea,

We can solve this problem you and me.

I was on the verge of losing someone very very dear to me. I call her my earth and she calls me her only moon (I'm a girl too).

What is the moon
Without its Earth,
I think, gazing into
The black of the night.
A ball of grey
That revolves around
An abyss of nothingness.
A celestial object
That would merely
Exist without objective.
The orb of night
That glowed only for
Brightening its Earth

And lost its meaning
Purpose and worth
In the absence
Of its Earth.
It is now enslaved
To its orbit
Trapped with nowhere to go.
Living with no one to behold
The gloom in its glamour.
No one shall ever know
That its Earth once existed
And it was the prettiest,
Most fulfilled version of itself
It could have ever been.

Scars

I want someone to see who I truly am,

I look in the mirror and see,

A coward unknown to me.

When I listen to my family they say,

How happy they are to be this way.

Of my friends none know the truth,

That I am hiding hurt,

Behind these smiles.

The mirror knows,

But then even the mirror goes,

And shows,

Only how I am physcially,

Not emotionally.

The mirror does shows scars outside,

But I want the scars inside,

To be noticed too.

It's really hard to let go. It's really hard to make yourself believe that the beautiful words of a beautiful person aren't even true anymore. Moments, memories keep playing in your mind. They make you sad and miserable when you don't even want to think of them. But you don't want to let them go either. And every single time, you just wonder if they can forget these that easily.

Moments we shared
Memories we made
Lie abandoned
In my world,
Exist unacknowledged
In you.
Stolen kisses,
My timid touches,
Warmest smiles,
The love in my eyes
Are scattered across
The territory of your mind
Aching to persist
Somewhere in my world.
The poetry of promises
The dim desires of dreams
The voice of our words
Wail for you
And refuse to give up
Even as they breathe their last.
As you watch them bleed
Their life being sucked
Out of their souls
They Hold on to dear life
For you
The thousand threads
Of togetherness
That we wove,
The music of
Our laughter
That echoed
Start sinking deep
Into the dark, locked
Chambers of oblivion.

Like the sunflower adores the sun

Like the wolf longs for the moon

I wish for such love

In a world with no tags

Colouring rainbow flags

We stand on the same path

Healing the same scar

I wish people would not fit me in a box

Now the suffocation follows me out

But patience is what I have

Only I can fix myself

phantom shadows

not minding the cold sitting itself all the way into our bones

the frost, dancing on our fingertips

breaths, another after another disappearing into the breeze

looking up

to the depths of infinity

a cosmic mystery

feeling small

under the unlimited sky

feeling like something

but nothing at the same time

letting the moon

live inside our eyes

with a shooting star

falling near by

i look by my side

i swear

you were there

just a minute ago

but now

theres just phantom shadows

dancing on the ground

@sinclair

Nice rhyme!!!

Healing, they tell me

is the moments you don't think,

don't notice,

don't talk.

It's the good days you have,

where your thoughts are in different places,

and you don't take time to think

about him.

It's the days you spend with friends

who really care,

include you, and

notice.

The ones who were there from the start,

the ones who are still there.

It's the days you have, where you can convince yourself

you're better.

But

healing isn't distracted,

distracted isn't healing.

You can hurt, bleed, ache, and still

not

think

about

him,

because when you do,

you open yourself up.

You ache again.

The moment you think

you're better

is the moment

he'll take what he wants

again

and again.

The moment you think

you're better

is the moment

your heart breaks again,

piece by piece,

to be picked up

in the moments of

distracted,

by friends

who really care.

@anyonymouscollegestudent

A hard-hitting relatable scenario expressed beautifully in words.. I am really speechless!

@compassionateendofarainbow thank you! I lost the thread where I posted this and just found it, the fact that someone likes it means a lot :)

Its a poem by sara teasdale..

The Look.

Strephon kissed me in the spring, Robin in the fall, But colin only looked at me And never kissed at all.

strephon's kissed was lost in jest, Robin's lost in play, But the kiss in colin's eyes

haunts me night and day.

Distances so big

time passin by,

words left unsaid

same with the feelings i guess.

so much history

cant ignore it like this

cant risk it all

for a stupid teenage relationship.

so what do we do?

walk away and not confess,

feels a little wrong

but maybe its for the best.

and so the story continues

with us being just good friends

with awkward silences over the phone, arguing over Harry Potter, midnight video calls and all those other dumb things we do

i guess I'll be okay with it

as long as its you.

@Sanjana57

Woaaah Sanjana! This really hit home for me! Loved it, the pain and confusion is so well portrayed!!!

@compassionateendofarainbow

thank you💓

@Sanjana57

I wish I were a coconut... that seasoned by sun... a work from God, nature by man... the cocunot when you over look... the thirst is quench, stomach filled, delight in any way...

I dug myself deep
Into 'I'm fine's and sorries,
Now my piercing screams
Don't reach your ears.

Or do you, do you hear it?
And choose to ignore?
Do you think they are just prickly thorns
On my path to get to the rose?

Are my wounds superficial then,
The pain not worthy enough
For one warm hug? For one moment of empathy?
For one 'I know you are tired love, rest'?

Maybe they are a mere blip
In your grand scheme of things
Maybe you hope all the cuts
Would grow me a thicker skin
Make me someone who you wish I was

Maybe you dream of the day
The day I finally breathe in its sweet fragrance,
I'll look into your eyes with infinite happiness,
And you can finally lay your weary limbs to sleep.

And maybe, maybe I'll finally get that token of appreciation?

For that's all I seek,
That one smile of pride,
That one gesture of kindness,
And can I hope a word of love?

So I'll trudge this dreary path, for you,
Staunch my pain with all my might,
Muffle my screams in mirthless laughs
Hide my tears underneath empty smiles.

I'm afraid though, when I do get to touch its soft petals,
Instead of thicker skin, I'd have bled my last ounce,
Maybe filling your cup would drain mine,
Maybe I wanted the simple Jasmines?

No, don't worry, I'll wave my hands around,
Dispel the cloud of doubts,
Cause I'm just one immature child,
A coward afraid of wounds making excuses, right?

For now, please don't
Don't turn off the light,
My shadow's the only one left
To hold onto me tight.

(The title is in the end)

Can somebody, anybody, just end my pain?
I didn't know what have I done to deserve this much pain, and live throughout it day by day.

I'm ready to get my heart stabbed by knife, just literally. Because words are sharper than knife, I don't think I can bear to hear anything anymore, and let my mind wander aimlessly with (negative) thoughts anymore.

I don't understand why God put me through this. They said, God only gives us things in our capability, things that we can handle. I know my thing is nothing, but I can even barely handle.

I cried out loud, and nobody sees. Nobody answers. Nobody cares. Nobody understands.

If... If I'm not scared to die anymore... What is there to be scared of??

i may not understand you

but it is impossible

for me to be more sure

of how right everythings feels

when your mystifying mind

lets me in

hearing the vigor in your words

seeing the candor in your eyes

until now,

i never knew what it felt like

to get chills at the sight

of someone else’s happiness

if this is it

God

i hope i am never warm

again

@lydiarklistens

This is very very beautifully written, Lydia! Ohmigosh I am in love with this!

@compassionateendofarainbow

awww thank you so much, i appreciate it! this one is actually one of my personal favorites haha.

" I awoke in the same place,

in the same bed,

and in my same skin.

Yet everything was different."

-DN

We used to laugh together

We used to talk together

We used to smile together

But it was simply my imagination

We did laugh together

We did talk together

We did smile together

But only I kept those memories

Six months apart and everything has changed

I reach out to you, I try to talk to you

But you ignore my calls

Six months go by and I stop trying

To recover the friendship that we used to have

Six months and you come back,

I say I miss you, I greet you

You ignore me

And steal away my closest friendship

Two friendships shattered from you

But I’ve learned now,

If you don’t give a shit about me, I shouldn’t about you

We’ve gone our separate ways, though we see each other every day

But not as friends

You stole friendships from me

Yet I see you every day

But now I don’t give a single shit

And I know it’s futile to try to recover what we once had

Or stolen friendships

Memories in my head of my love for you.

Tears in my eyes for the love that was true.

Love in my heart which you didnt see.

For your love was for another and not for me.

What did you grow up doing?

Was it different from me?

I did not begin to "grow-up"

Until the age of 23

How can you grow in this world so small

There's no room for you

No room for you at all

We have to leave these little pink houses

Because if we don't

The world will go past us

So what did i grow up doing

Im not so sure yet

But ask me in 60 years

Im sure I'll remember it

Its eleven fifty-two

And here I am

Half dressed and talking

To who, I don't know

The conversation is fast

Our topic is familiar

I'm sure I answered these questions before

Perhaps they needed reminding

I look to the door

The night is covert on the lawn

Then the clock tells me it is twelve thirty

But I did not hear it ticking

Come back. Come back please.

You left too soon.

You left too young.

We only bury people

who experienced a long-term peak

in their lives.

Return in 70 years or so…

Please?

Sorry, sunflower.

This one’s already gone

I just wanted to add the name of a wonderful writer I just learned about if you don't already now her. A.R. Asher. Very beautiful poetry, look her up if you haven't already!

My name is Merthe and I wrote a poem that's kind of like a fairytale. It's a cute little love story about a little ghost and a scarecrow. It's also quite long, but I was proud of it and wanted to share with you guys...

The ghost and the scarecrow

A little ghost lived in the attic of the old house on the farm.

He liked to simply stay up there and not cause any harm.

It was a nice and cozy place, and although he was alone,

He told himself that he preferred to always stay at home.

Every day he’d read a book with tales from times before.

He knew the stories all by heart, but still read them once more.

Every day and night he’d read, and when he reached the end,

He’d flip all of the pages back and read it all again.

His favourite story was by far the Princess and the Knight.

The story of their endless love would make him feel alright.

For years the ghost had dreamed to find a princess of his own,

To live happily ever after, and no longer be alone.

But how to find a princess if you always stay inside?

That’s why the ghost decided to leave the attic for a night.

Through the window, slightly scared, in the night of Halloween,

He left his home to take a look at the world he’d never seen.

He looked around in wonder, things looked different from up close;

The trees, the grass, the pumpkin patch, and on his way he froze.

‘Cause there, across the pumpkin patch somebody caught his gaze:

A handsome looking scarecrow with a handsome pumpkin face.

If our little ghost had had a heart, it would have skipped a beat.

When the scarecrow turned around and smiled, then waved at him to greet.

The ghost felt his cheeks glow red and flashed an awkward smile.

Both didn’t have too much to say, so they stood there for a while.

Come on now, little ghost, go tell him something nice!

Tell him anything at all, just go and break the ice!

What did the knight say to the princess, while standing in the yard?

You’ve read that tale a thousand times, now why is it so hard?

The ghost tried to remember the book he always read.

But couldn’t find a useful line in what the knight had said.

Then it occurred to him that maybe he was wrong.

Perhaps his role had been the princess all along.

“I’ve been hiding in my tower for as long as I have known.

Thinking of another life in which I’m no longer alone.

But as I’m here with you this moment things start to feel alright.

If I can be the princess, will you be my knight?”

It took the ghost all of his courage to say these words aloud.

And he regretted it the instance they had come out of his mouth.

This nerve wrecking moment left him feeling like a fool,

Totally embarrassed, still he tried to play it cool.

He looked up at the scarecrow’s face, after all of this was said.

Whose normally orange pumpkin cheeks were now glowing with red.

The scarecrow took him by the hand with his glove filled up with straw.

The ghost felt tingling when they touched and looked at him in awe.

The scarecrow said: “I feel the same, I’m glad you told me this.

For I was too scared to tell you, too afraid to take that risk.

Of course I want to be your knight, I’d love that very much.

Because I have this tingly feeling every time we almost touch.”

So they held each other tight and through the night kept holding hands.

The ghost told all his stories and the scarecrow taught him how to dance.

They talked for hours without an end, and filled the night with laughter.

Because both of them had finally found their Happy Ever After.

By Merthe :)

@Merthe I LOVE this!! I smiled the whole way through. This would make such an awesome childrens book! I could see the illustrations in my head!!!

@TheRealAlice96 I actually had a plan to do that! I haven't quite gotten to it yet, but I would love to make illustrations for it one day! Also thank you so much! Your comment just made my whole day❤️❤️