OUR ORIGINAL POETRY: Share It Here

Beautifully written. I love this.

Why do I call this love?

By: Kiti

You enjoy everybody?s disapproval,

You made me forget what it's like to be humble.

Being with you is slowly changing me, but i really don?t mind and let you be.

I used to believe in every love story,

Now I almost forgot the meaning behind ''sorry''.

I know you're bad,

They say you couldn?t be worse,

But to me you're the best.

They say ''love's a weapon'',

And I don?t like second guessing.

Now we're on fine

And I forgot every prayer.

Well I guess we're going down,

Cause I don?t see any way out.

Why do I call this love?

If you find out will you let me know?

When you've been treated the worst, the next one is the best

You are a shadow...looking for love, acceptance, happiness....you are the soul that refuses to die, you are love,joy,emotion. You my dear are freedom. I see you and I need you

a young person I am,
though sometimes I can be much older,
maintaining my age at different occasions is not that simple,
a life I have chosen,
with little regrets and little hope,
I have decided to just live quietly and simply,
raging emotions,happiness,passion or the need to be known just isn't for everybody,
some might say what a sad life I must lead,
but I have never really taken what people say towards me seriously,
a waste of energy I never really seem to care for,
so to the,the living and to the non existing,
this is life.its not like magic,it's simply just a messed up reality.

The gushing waters

Storm within

The springtime colours

Ooze out of my veins

I await the sunshine time

That whispers your words

Unspoken, but not unfelt.

I await the sunshine time

That would call me home

To your call, to cool that storm

That churns and wrench

Your inner, unseen trench

That caresses that spectral shadow

With the deepest care possible.

Dear@21gramsoul, Marvelous language!I love the lines about "gushing water storms within" while the "springtime colors ooze out." And "the sunshine time that whispers . . . the sunshine time that would call me . . ." Actually, there is SO much to love here.

I love it, it's simply beautiful ❤

I should'vewalked away

by: Kiti

I asked for your name,

You just smiled and told me trouble.

I should?ve walked away,

But your stare made my knees wobble.

Your eyes intrigued me,

My innocence made you stay.

You weren?t the one to just let me be,

I didn?t mind and let my mind dream away.

It was like you?ve read my mind,

You always knew exactly what to say.

It made me feel blind,

Never knowing how to reply.

You were like magic,

I was like a little girl.

You took away my panic,

I felt like a bird.

Dear @itsjustmekitty, This poem evoked old memories very powerfully. Hmmm, almost too powerfully. Beautiful work.

Thank you, I hope the memories weren't too unpleasant. :)

@itsJustMeKitty

Nah,but there was a moment, asting. It was a long time ago.I lived and learned.

Good art sometimes makes forgotten things vivid again, as it should."It's all good." Thanks for being concerned, that's sooooonice of you.

Trigger Warning

Stay safe,my friends

It's one of those days, when I miss her more than ever. All the wrongs of the past are piling up on me today, and I'll dump them here because I don't know what else to do. Thanks for reading. It's only my second poem I ever wrote. I tried to keep the shape of each stanza in sync with the title, but I don't know if it quite worked.

Drips

Drip, drip, drip

Splash and splatter on the ground

A faucet drips

I stand up, creaking floor

I want to fix it, angry shouts

Stab like knives through the weary walls

I hear the parentals fighting and I sit back down

Even the handyman can?t fix a broken home

I stare at the cracked ceiling and wonder

Bitterly, home, sweet home?

I miss the peace

Urine drips

My grandfather looks up

He forgets me and continues

The tile floor is slippery, I worry

Will he slip, and lose his mind again?

The door, the light switch, already too difficult

Such a nice euphemism, nursing home

A place to die, like my grandmother

I miss the memories

Tears drip

She left me so quickly

When I needed her the most

The memory aches sharply, spears in me

The pressure crushes my chest like a devil?s hand

Still, I miss her: the reason I awoke each day

Now she?s gone, I was too much to handle

It?s all my fault, it always is

I miss the joy

Blood drips

I press the knife deeper

I feel it in my vein, a part of me

Red rolls rapidly down my wounded arm

I stare at it, another casualty in this losing battle

I hear it on the floor, I see it smash down

Stains the creaky oak floor mahogany

Such a wonderful color, I think

I miss the health

Life drips

Slowly, slowly away

Into the hazy past they go

Never to be reclaimed, despite my will

Or maybe to spite me? Who knows anymore?

I feel it draining out of me, into the dark

It oozes into oblivion, or does it rush?

The devils mop up my remains

I miss the life

Drip? Drip? Drip?

Splash and splatter all around

Hey! You really spoke to the drama in my life with this. I would've said you spoke to me but, I'm trying to disassociate myself with those dark imaginings that seem to swallow me whole and leave me..... faceless. I have no other words to say to you other than. ... thank you. It's relieving to feel I'm not alone.

Thanks it means a lot 😊 I hope u have the best of luck whatever ur dealing with

Truth so beautifully told..really numb..could relate in bits ...

Area 51

There's this feeling that I get when I can't touch you anymore, I stop breathing until I can hold your hand again. I haven't taken a single breath for three months and maybe that's why I'm lightheaded or maybe that's why I can't seem to sleep. But I'm choosing not to breathe because to breathe without you is terrifying. A new territory I do not want to explore.

Dear Kaitlyn27, The rhythms of this poem are lovely! Even though the metaphors could easily feel outworn, they are moving. You achieve a poignant, haunting quality--well done!

You know what I really want, I want your mind..., I wanna get inside your head and stop time. I wanna make you feel like forever is a minute and a second an eternity... You see the thing is, I already want you, so now, what I really want is for you to want me too. And the only way I'm gonna do that is by making you feel like in a room full of people it's just you and I standing alone. Make you feel like you're the most special woman in the world.... but, the only way I can do that.... is if you let me.

@communicativePal8702 - The themes in your poem reach into the core of the human heart. The truth and sincerity of the message can't help but resonate with readers.

the sunlight isn?t going to

shine off my scars.

No matter how many times you tell me

how my pain is beautiful.

It won?t seem beautiful anymore

when I have tears streaming down my face.

It won?t seem beautiful when

people stare at my scars in public.

My pain is not beautiful

my pain is pain.

And I?m not romantically tragic

I?m depressed.

I don?t need someone who will kiss my scars

and find the stars in my eyes.

Because my scars should not be kissed

because I have done this to myself

Not so that you can try to fix me

so that I have a way to self destruct.

Tell me

what is so beautiful

about wanting to rip myself to shreds?

Would you tell someone with cancer

that their disease is tragically beautiful,

or romanticize it?

Then why would you do that

to mine?

Dear @Pray4theHeartless, This poem is intriguing. I'm attracted to the speaker's honesty, but then the voice seems almost too brusque, as if someone's genuine love is being rejected. In some ways, this poemhas the same kind of anti-romantictoneas "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun." I like it.

Thank you!

Beautifully and imperfectly perfect link of thoughts -- I appreciate your truthfulness.

I fell in love with somebody

But that somebody doesn?t know

I try to hide it

And she must not know

I am restraining myself

Because I am afraid

For this kind of love is forbidden

And must not even exist

I tried to keep it

But then the knots went loose

And now she?s getting nearer

With everything turning out as a beautiful disaster

Dear @SereneSugar93, This poem has an interesting tone--a shy, piquant, whispering tone reminiscent of Emily Dickinson. The first stanza is wonderfully bright and appealing.

I like the whole thing, in fact!

(However, I do have a suggestion to tighten the meter and add more impact, if you're interested: (1) In the second stanza, if the 3rd and 4th lines are revised to reduce the number of syllables, then your lines will have regular meter, and the rhythms will be stronger. (E.g., This love is forbidden And must not exist.)

Similarly, I think the final stanza would be far more powerful if the final line had a similar number of syllables as the previous lines in the poem. But that's just me. Your Mileage May Vary. :)

Thank you for appreciating it!! just a little background about the poem. I made it during one of my class while looking at a specific girl- well you see its complicated since I'm a bisexual and she's my best friend and she doesn't know. I can't afford to loose her but every passing day she get's nearer to me and my heart, making my whole being rupture and incomprehensible and also at the same time insatiable for more.

@SereneSugar93--Thestory comes through well in the poem. And thesense of secret longingis expressedbeautifully!

Hands gliding across the fingerboard,

a faint scent of colophony,

nightfall.

You were practicing

Bruch's Kol Nidrei.

What are memories?

That dusk, those sounds,

lights going dim,

my soul filled with

an illusion of transcendence.

Oh, have mercy.

I am a cracked

porcelain figurine

on the palm of your hand.

Don't let me fall.

What are memories?

They are bits of time

captured within the crack,

preventing the darkness

from tearing me apart.

Your hands were gliding.

I gazed at the shadows

drawing patterns of dreams

on the violoncello.

I remember.

@NataliaNectarine. This poem is superbly polished and sophisticated. The image of the cracked figure ismarvelous.

Waking up at the sign of daylight, remembering
occurring situation while feeling the weight of the
world upon shoulders. Navigating the sea of what
may not be, but it is currently. Breathing peace like
once before before can be quite difficult, but I?m sure
it?s not impossible.

Thousand reasons to think, thousands words to say
but something which will always remain constant is
the strong person you are, through thin and thick.
A trail of roses and thorns are a true testimony of
the strong person you are, flying with angelical
wings to reach paradise.

I remembered nothing is impossible, not even drawing
in the wind, or reaching true peace and happiness.
The whole universe fits your strength and courage.
I wait for a shooting to wish for you to be happy
once more like I know you can. If I gain my strength
back is to guide you through the dark.

I want you to shine, more than water sparkles at nigh,
shine through everything to show the strong person
you are. The gaze of your eyes, and the glance project
tranquility and harmony. There?s nothing more to hide
at all because of the transparency. Step by step to
get closer.

The stronger person you are, The stronger person you are
Being fortunate to have it even through times because
it?s possible. I have been blessed to see it, and able to
Feel it.

@freshlight64, OMG, this is GORGEOUS.

Ordinary, Extraordinary Miracles

The smallest, most ordinary yet extraordinary miracles that were scattered so very conveniently, so very carefully and precisely across the shadows and corners and crevices of each and every day that somehow coincided with what needed to be let known to me - the small and simply beautiful things that interrupted the humdrum rhythm of the despondent monotony I began to become familiar with and fear - are what kept my sanity and hope resilient during my moments of mental breakage.

Dear alexeeSan9, I love this poem! It expressesa major feature of my personal philosophy of life. Thereare little miracles and gifts all over the place, all the time,I am convinced of it!I just have to be aware, observant, and have an open questing spirit.

Thank you for posting it.

@alexeeSan9,

Hmmmm. I understand prose poems, and yours is marvelous. But I'm wondering . . . would a more typical poetry format yield some additional power? What do you think? (My line breaks were arbitrary, and I'm sure you could choose better! )

ORDINARY, EXTRAORDINARY MIRACLES

by Alexeesan9

The smallest, most ordinary

yet extraordinary

miracles that were scattered

so very conveniently,

so very carefully and

precisely across the shadows

and corners and crevices

of each and every day

that somehow coincided

with what needed to be

let known to me -

the small and simply

beautiful things that

interrupted the humdrum

rhythm of the despondent

monotony I began to become

familiar with and fear - are what

kept my sanity and hope

resilient during my

moments

of mental breakage.

Any thoughts on the prose format versus the line-break format?

@Annie, I think the poem is stunning either way. I'm always slightly inclined towards the line-break format becauseit is much easier to read and understand the rhythm. Again, I'm heavily biased because our national poetic traditions generally avoid poetry in prose. Most works of the later generation of symbolists can be read and understood as "spread out" prose poems. :)

SILLY LITTLE JOKER:

Silly little joker spending his days fooling around.

That's all it is right? Fooling around.

Silly little joker screaming up and down.

Inside it feels like he's screaming with no sound.

Silly little joker waves without a dent.

To him it feels like it's paralysed movement.

Silly little joker stands tall on his own.

But did you ever think it's because he feels all alone?

Silly little joker is at war with distant relations.

How could one face such draconian creations?

Silly little joker is juxtaposed from society.

Since when did it feel like the foreign custom was actually humanity ?

Such negativity.Wiped of all ability.Losing his sanity. Love being an abnormality!

He's just a silly little joker.

@izza I absolutely love this. I think I read it like 4-5 times by now and every time I love it more and more. Nice work italian!!

Aayy my Italian buddy likes my writing . Squad goals mastered 😎 @Nina007

@izza, izza, izza. All this time I've known you and admired you, and I didn't know what a fine poet you are! I remember commenting once on your mature prose, that I was surprised when I tried to send you a message and couldn't because you're on the teen side of the website.

And now I discover that your writing talents are wonderfully diverse. Wowwww.