OUR ORIGINAL POETRY: Share It Here

My goddess with eyes of hazel sits upon the shore.

The ocean of sorrow in moonlight crashes silent in its roar.

For so contained are her demons deep that the world may never see.

A restless tear from ashen face falls heavy as she weeps.

For her heart never changed at all behind her wall of sadness.

Her false smile inspires awe a facade of forlorn gladness.

She speaks in riddles partly true so no being shall get near.

She wrestles with her feelings true ensnared within her fear.

Can you feel my heart?

If it loves you can you care?

Can you see my shattered soul if I lay it bare?

Can you see my pain?

My mistakes can you forgive?

Can you hear my screams?

Can our love ever live?

In pain my angel still she dwells,

substituting love again for lust.

Clipping her wings since the moment she fell,

denouncing ever trust.

Tortured she burns inside her own hell,

until she turns to dust.

Unsteady rhythms just barely beating

her heart covered in rust.

Evermore my goddess stands

gazing into the past she'll stay.

A tragedy her greatest crash

transfixed her pain can never fade.

In her heart the battle rages

until the end of all her days.

Deep inside she hides her love

forever locked away.

Can you feel my heart?

If it loves you can you care?

Can you see my shattered soul if I lay it bare?

Can you see my pain?

My mistakes can you forgive?

Can you hear my screams?

Can our love ever live?

The cyan blue ocean reflected the orange and pink sunset. The ripples of the ocean broke the reflection into a million little pieces of bright orange and pink. The beams of the sun turned the sand into a light flamingo pink. The trees cast long shadows across the ground. A small fish jumped out of the water and into the pink light and back into the cyan blue water. The sun finished setting and now it was my favorite time of day that I called the blue time. Its the time right after the sun sets when the moon is starting to come up, making the world a deep blue, almost like it was underwater.

My only escape is going where they would not have the guts to follow me

What if we could all put our problems in a pile for all to see, and instead of choosing our own to take back, we could just leave them there start a fire and walk away together

As time goes on it seems to speed up the present, the future seems shorter and faster to pass, and the past becomes this pile we start to throw memories in for us to dig through once in a while. It gets messy and unsorted and we lose track of where everything went or where it was placed or where it fits in with everything else

I put my hope in a bottle and threw it into the sea. In hopes it could find someone more deserving than me

Tears of a rose

When I saw the wonder of your eyes
It was the only world I yearn to wonder
As if dawn rose within them
The shade of russet and golds
Fading into one
Often I saw the smile in them gleam
But other times too I saw them weep
Yet always compelling me
That gripped me by my soul
Willingly tumble downwards into those dark pools
And be lost within them for eternity
Never to know such the wonder of you
Nor to own this ache
This longing to be
One I know so well
But still know more is to be explored
Concealing the three words I keep
That I wish to be told
In all my days
Never did I think
Such as you could exist
A nature of such wonderful potions
So pure, so kind
Inspiring beyond the reach of anything else
With a heart that beats of purest form
Though broken once before
Lush dark hair that reminds me
Of a warm safe place whereas a child I'd hide
From the raging storms
That now cloud your sight
Liquid peals slip
Gently down
The masculine beauty that is your own
Past a mouth, oh that mouth
I long to caress
To twine these arms about you
Never to let go
Vowing
Vowing
To never to repeat
Past wounds
For you see
You are such a nimble thief
Whom steals my breath
With my heart
To spend such lengthily hours
Yet to pine for so more
Sadly though
Divided are we
By a sheet of glass
And worlds apart
Cities
Countries
Miles
The ocean waves
But if I close my lids
You are right beside me
And in my heart
You will steadfast be.

By Gemma Louise

I can't think of something write of my own so Keaton Henson

Some People Write Poetry

some people write poetry

they command the words

some people write poetry

but i don't have the nerve

of course it used to speak to my soul

id rewrite again and again

but i've sat here for ages

and ripped out some pages

and words became words

and the words became faded

and perhaps poetry requires some nerve

but ill just keep writing

i'm only a girl.

one in 7 billion

wont change the world

ill get my words out

and leave in whirl

of waiting

and watching

and wishing and more

some people write poetry; I just think.

I have stalkers, born from my home town, spread with the Internet. Escape is only to think and I couldn't think of it. They work. They say they wouldn't. But they ---- work. They put a life's work into my life just to make sure I strife.

So they can watch my eternal flame burn and hand me blame. Turning tainting yearning baiting. I'm not complacent but I can't be violent. It's all that would stop them. Yet I just watch as the top spins and clot till my blood thins.

Leave my life and sit inside. They don't go away because I'm still online. I can't say their names because then I would try. So here I am. Have me. Watch me for eternity.

---- YOU I hand you my life here I quit. Quit this city. This country. These people. Their chances.

In only hopes they'd feel half the pain I'm scarred with. Filthy retched -----s to put it softly. they spent my whole life trying to cop me. Turned me into things I child should never be. I guess I did bleed complacently. I gave my life to save them. As if I stayed out there I would divide them into pieces and pry them open to close again. Reassemble and dismember. But yet. When I feel like that I called the police in attempt to cell and jail me for that. A feeling. They said I'd have to commit a crime. And for a moment I looked them in the eye and they say I was tempted.questioning what would be enough and what would be too much.

But alas they drove me to a hospital. Ever so. ----- fitting. As if all they could see was a bleeding pile of violence covered in deceit. My life is now composed of stalkers. As if I try to live I will either feed them or eat them. But here in solidarity we all get what we want. They can pointlessly stalk me and I can sit here and slump. They can laugh at my unraveling and I can save them from what I'm unraveling into.

As once the bandages are lost, the mask comes off. The animal doesn't stop. Once it is seen. And in light the bloody rage gleams. Beaming and teeming. Burning bright star of going to far. I can only halt it my halting my hand into a wall to be broken. Stopped like a train crash when I piled it behind a cup and into a wall mash.

But I don't have the tendons to keep that referendum. If I make it as me. Myself. The one who spends 7 hours on cups. Then maybe I'll live. If not possibly the military. Just let the beast devour me and send it to the ones who deserve to see. What it truly is capable of. Put on a ------ cape and gloves and animal bearing armour. Under the flak jacket and bulletproof plates. In the corner of me shoulder they'd see the depiction burdened with leviathan snakes. And an angel in the center. Dressed like a spartan with a gun to help pardon. Myself of what they've inflicted. Send my shell to hell in war as to not be conflicted.

Free of their tricks and parted to pick from. I can aim. I can strike a projectile. So I could maim and fight like a textile. Become an inhuman contusion. Let my anger be my salvation. Drag it through war and see it drag me through more. Drag me to shore. Then me. Myself. Without the demons wealth of raging unbreakable health. Could just lie down and ------ die on that island in peace and without need of help

expletives deleted by forum mentor Annie