OUR ORIGINAL POETRY: Share It Here

@Alexander2016 Awesome! I love the ending lines. Lovely rhymes as well.

I have stood my ground
When the foundation crumbled beneathe my feet
I didn't let the earthquake knock me down.
I stood tall as the walls collapsed around me.
My strength astounds me.
I am magestically alive
Reborn from the ashes of my past,
Rebuilding from the ruins,
I will protect my city,
I am the queen of my destiny

This Distance

there are ten thousands roads:
I could use to run
i am not lost
i am not found
I simply just do not belong
this road i am on
it leads to you
oh, how long this journey has become
what if I can't?
what if I can?
there is a will
so there is a way
I will get there some day
but if i be wrong...
just know
I wanted to be there with you
and each night I pray
not to lose sight
I have been wrong...
I have been right...
I've been both of these things
in the same night.
Nothing's gonna stop me
as long as you're with me
I'll be just fine

-L.D -she speaks in poetry

Weary and wounded

All dust

In smoke-dim

Twilight

Choking for want of

Something

Cut off

The stump

Beats

Ghost feelings

Something there

But gone

Dried blood

The sky no

Longer boiling

But dawn is distant

Can the night be met

Can the dark be beaten

Back

Can the scar-dry soul

Stretch to morning?

Dawn is distant

The stump

Sore to bone

Weary

But sore is life

Pain says

A life remains

So pain is hope?

The battle does not

End ever

But rises

And falls

Dawn is distant

But it comes

It comes for me

Always

I won't wait

Merely still

But crawl

Toward the dawn

Intro: So this a poem I wrote a while back (most of what I post here will be) and it pretty much explains itself so I hope you all enjoy!

That Which You Hold In Your Hand

by: thelonesomerider

You have to understand
That what you hold is fragile
It bends to your every whim
But it is all so easy to break
What you hold is filled with darkness
Black liquid like tar
It's hard to flush out fluid that thick
Not to discredit your trying
Sometimes cracks appear
In the fragile something's surface
And you fix them up
With duct tape and hugs
It's hard to siphon out liquid that thick
Without shattering the fragile thing
You hold so close and dear
But bit by bit, you're trying
I can attest to that
I am a human representation
Of your hard and ceaseless labour
I am the fragile, tar-filled something
And you have always fixed me up
And one day, I will be whole
And maybe I can fix
Your broken parts, too

Intro: Woohoo another poem, this time a new one! It may seem odd, but it's about the hallucinations I see, which come in the form of three people to me: a little girl (Olivia), a teenager (Tess), and an adult (he doesn't talk so I don't know his name; I call him Dean).

Shadow of a Mind

by: thelonesomerider

On bare feet I run

Through the shadow of a mind,

The shadow of a doubt.

The sun set a while back

Weeks, months, years

And we haven't seen it since.

I see you, do you see me?

No-one else sees you, hears you,

Shadows of my mind, shadows of doubt.

I say nothing, I'd be thought crazy

Just for friends that don't come around proper.

Olivia, my little friend

Run, run child,

Race me by.

Tess, a peer,

Not the nicest,

Comforting still

Dean, silent

Maybe that's not your name;

You don't say otherwise, just watch me and walk away.

My shadows of mind have left the shadows;

I see you in daylight,

Hear you over all other noise.

You hide no more, yet

I am still the only one who knows

Of you no-longer-shadows of my mind.

Caged

A bird in a cage

Wings clipped so I can

I'm glad I'm not deaf, so I can hear you tell me it's going to be okay.

I'm glad I'm not blind, so I can see your beautiful brown eyes staring into mine.

I'm glad I'm not mute, so I can tell you how much I care about you.

I wish I was deaf, so I wouldn't have to hear you laugh with her.

I wish I was blind, so I wouldn't have to see you dance with her.

I wish I was mute, so I could finally shut up and quit being such a baby about this.

I wish I could cut all ties.

-T.J. Kaylor

This is a very old poem that I wrote about a year ago, so it's very amateur. I enjoy the concept nonetheless.

Ocean

I say "you're beautiful"

your response,

"have you met me?"

of course

I have.

would I call a stranger

beautiful?

possibly

if it were true.

but when I call you beautiful

it means surface

and beneath.

you don't say

"the ocean's surface is beautiful today"

you just say

"the ocean is beautiful today"

because

sometimes

you don't just look at the surface

you look beyond

and you ponder about all of the beauty

underneath

some known

some unknown

all absolutely perfect.

so yes

of course I've met you.

even before I had

you were beautiful.

just now

I mean it differently than before

because I went from knowing

the surface

to

the coral

to

the floor

and then I found Atlantis;

your heart.

I thought Atlantis was the best

until I realized,

what holds

the coral

the floor

and Atlantis?

the water,

of course.

I have met you.

and I know enough

to know

that every part of you

is perfect in every way.

just like the ocean.

-T.J. Kaylor

He only loved with his eyes

And I loved with my heart

And I believed in his lies.

My mind is ultimately torn

But I knew his games before

So why do I still mourn?

Breakups are like a death

There's always closure

Just take a breath

a lost cause

she is barely breathing

fighting for breath

trying to survive

in a haunted world

now the darkness captures her

plays with its newly found prey

enjoying his victory

in her always losing battle

a war that cannot be won

because you are deceiving, undressing

unraveling the corners of her mind

making her cry

finding it thrilling

exhilarating

fun

you frame her innocence on the wall

lasting painful memories she wants to erase

so she bled to drain the poison

but he's still inside

no amount of blood can purify her

no amount of tears can cleanse her

spilled ink won't save her

no one and nothing can ever wash away who she is

your possession

The sun is shining

I can feel the wind on my face, drink in my hand.

But there there she was in a distance; like a diamond big, shiny and bright.

Red hair and eyes as dark as night.

But I ignore the beautiful monster

And I look, the sun is shining

Drink in my hand I get knowing I can walk away from self harm and the others that lurk in the shadows.

A poem I wrote many years ago...

I hate the tears, the pain, the evil laughter, those games. That smile, the struggle, the "I love you's" and the lies whispered late at night. I hate when you build me up high and let me down hard. I hate the way you almost cared, the way I wanted you to love me. I hate the way you wanted me dead, the way you actually loved me. I hate the way I miss it, I miss you. I hate the way I want to hate you but can't. I hate myself for loving you. I hate myself for being so easily manipulated, so easily played, so trusting of someone that I shouldn't have trusted. I hate the way that I dont hate you at all, not even a little bit. I hate myself every day, but I still love you. Why do I love you so much? Why, why, why do I love you?

school bathrooms

The tiles are dull blue,

a color I imagine was once

the sky but is now my grandfather's

disappointed catalysts following

me as I struggle to breathe.

My own eyes are

the most disappointed. There

is nobody more cynical than

the letdown who once had hope.

I do not have time to be disappointed.

Deadlines barrage me like Israeli

airstrikes on Palestine, millions

of people huddled underneath their

desks in hope that the fragile wood

will save them from destruction.

I am causing my own

destruction by not handing the

work I cannot do;

Palestine is causing their own

by not handing over the land they

no longer have.

"It is never the victim's fault," preaches

my anti-rape campaign, but why

do I scream and pull at my hair and cry?

Why do I hide in my closet when I

find that just existing is too hard?

It is not the victim's fault. I am a victim

of a defective healthcare system.

I will never slit open my wrist, because

I do not want to attract attention

to the sea in which I may drown;

simply falling overboard and praying

that I die is enough.

But I never die. So I face

pale blue tiles, reminiscent of

my late grandfather's catalysts.

@ubiquituous

This moved me deeply. It is very, very powerful. Thank you for sharing.

Note: This poem is for all the people at my school who've given me degrading looks because I read for fun.

Without further ado...

The Benefits of Reading

-Caitlin Victoria

The kids at school were quite confused

to why that little girl would choose

to read and read the recess through

and read behind her textbooks too.

They ask, Why dont you come and play?

The weathers nice and bright today!

But she would relocate somewhere

Where no one would disturb her there.

Some years had passed, she was a teen

the smartest that the grade had seen,

but all those other lazy louts

had failed because they messed about.

She was the envy of the class

and of the grade and of the mass

of halfwit people here and there,

there was no doubt, it was unfair

Of later on, she got a job

unlike those lazy, foolish fobs-

that didnt bother to be smart

Who said readings not an art?

The moral of the story is

that not reading is quite a risk

So dont be scared of what they say

Youll see, one day they all will pay.

@QueenVictoriatheCat I completely relate to this poem at one time books were my only friends and now it's helped me so much being well read

Note: This is a very existential piece. This might trigger you if you are prone to existential crises. You have been warned...

Noteworthy

-Caitlin Victoria

The wind is rushing, everlasting, timeless in infinity

Time is flying, minds are breaking, soon well be just memories

I want to be here evermore, my essence in your melodies,

to have my name engraved in stone, immortal as the vivid seas

Who would want to be forgotten? Who would want a final death?

I want to run and jump and fly when others struggle for a breath.

Only silence hears my plea,

never disturb reality

And Ill be gone and I will be

lost in its fragility

What do you do when your lifes an empty inkwell of invisible ink?

To swirl your brush on non-existent parchment, what will the ones centuries from now think?

How can we live with our souls just hanging like a dying leaf on an autumn tree?

And how can we cope with the fact that only the great or abhorrent are noteworthy?

What do you do when all faith is dying and really, youre glad to see it go

When truth is only apparent in lies, in deception is where the greatest love grows

How can we live with our spirits caged, only death or drugs to set them free

And how can I make my mark on this world if nobody really is noteworthy?

@QueenVictoriatheCat

Wow. Just wow. It's hard for me to put into words how this poem makes me feel. Really, I don't even know what to say except this piece is incredibly powerful. I am in awe.

Thank you so much for writing it and being willing to share it with all of us.

@unsinkablespirit312

Thank you :) I'm glad you liked it

@QueenVictoriatheCat this is amazing! It really makes you think…

Glass oh glass in my mirror, as thin as a board but it reflects what the eyes are blinde to see. A reflection of yourself can only be seen what your eyes behold of its image. Glass oh glass in my mirror why do you show me what I dislike to see. I stare at the mirror with eyes wide open waiting for a change to pull you out from this attraction to my flaws. In olluision of my mind grows deeper and spreads among the glass, chipping it piece by piece. Is it me inside that glass or is it me standing in front of this mirror, trying to see what's hard for me to see

Predator

An invisible assassin

Taking away my friends one by one

Unbeatable

Undefeatable

I almost wish it was just that movie alien

But it's too familiar

It's part of me

It comes from me

Never leaving

Always watching

Waiting for me to falter

My mind is both the predator and the prey.

(Sorry if that was terrible)

@Craigbasc

I don't think it was terrible at all. Poetry is art. And art - at least to me, is always beautiful. Sometimes it's heart-breaking and gut-wrenching and will make you cry for hours, but nevertheless, it's still beautiful... even tragically so.

I think this piece is just that. It's raw and it speaks your truth. I appreciate your honesty and vulnerability for writing it and sharing it here. I enjoyed reading it and related to it. Please keep writing.

Late night writing...

a love undefined

wounded soul
rationed breath
embedded memories

a child accused, a fearless survivor

death to rebirth
reawakened from harsh winters
rising up from the ashes

shining a light
of innocence and purity
he cannot steal my radiance

i am a living dichotomy
a work in progress
and i will keep my story going

this is my poem :) If it is terrible please notify me :D I wait your comments...

Special Gift

Despite all bad things

Still opening flowers..

To cancel own life among concretes..

Unlike own responsibilities, to run

Through your invisible winds..

Use your limitless imagine world..

There was a great stone,

There was a great gift for you,

Which waits you

As well as your lover...

Our whole minutes try to attempt

To win every game

Whatever you demand

Whenever you select..

In heart of the stone, you will

Well will want you...

To give a special gift for you...

Somewhere, it comes ..

Our new irremedible today..

Today.

21st of June.

Marks the 2nd month that I went out of therapy.

Today.

21st of june.

You set me free.

well in truth you wanted to dump me out of spite

calling me names, trying to hurt me.

all because i pointed out the glaring truth.

the elephant in the room.

that you dont love me.

and i no longer wish to continue loving you.

and 1 - 1 = 0

No more you...and now...no more me.

Our plans no longer mean to me

anything.

and that hurts you.

I'm sorry.

but for the longest time...I've let you hurt me.

And now that you cant use me. or fuck me...or control me...

i'm a bitch that you wish to have a miserable life

that is your last words.

to me.

so much proof...

that you really dont love me.

and i'm not wrong.

in letting you go...

only...you still wish to think...YOU let me go.

for your narcissistic peace of mind.

at least i dont hate you

goodbye.

My beautiful girl this world is not a curse Some days are bright with sun to spare Others feel like they blend together Happiness will fill your beautiful heart And bring forth your sweetest smile This world can harbor darkness and despair You will find no answers down there Pain will overflow from your pockets Intern teaching you this life is precious Love will flow out through your passions You'll feel many things in this world Please take your sweet gift and embrace it Live for you me and everyone in between Hold on tight to those that you can Those you can't just let go Be true to you and pride will simply be My beautiful girl this world is not a curse It's just your special place in this universe

@Maxlexie2

This is gorgeous. The formatting was unique and added to the poem as well. It reminds me of E. E. Cummings if you've ever read any of his work.

It's a beautiful and moving poem. Keep writing darling!

@ThisWasATriumph thank you!

This has some mentions of depression and a past relationship, it is not abusive, just ended on a wrong note.

Wake Up, Live again!

------------------------------------------------------

I feel like my life is rehearsed

My soul had been cursed

From the day I was born

To the day my heart was torn

They say time will ease the pain

But I all hear is indistinguishable sounds

Feeling like their is nothing left to gain

Where mountains become hills and hills become mounds

Eventually everything fades to dust

To find a propose to live I must

Its harder then it seems

Forever you are in my dreams

In fantasies you still want me

In nightmares you are what I want to flee

I should have known

Secrets are the seeds of misfortune

Breaking your life apart once grown

Creating a life long distortion

Things said cannot be unspoken

Even when you were never dishonest

Once perfect now lay broken

The life you once promised

I should move on

But its hard to fight addiction

My hearts true desire

Your words I still admire

Still my hearts affliction

No... Masks I shall no longer Don!

This is it, my Redemption!

Building a path with Determination!

I need no Salvation!

Because this is a demon of my own Creation!

I will longer be set to Stagnation!

No more Procrastination!

My goal is set for Completion!

So idk if this counts as poetry and I've never actually tried to creat anything. What I'm posting is basically everything I'm feeling. Comments are welcome.

What is it about you?

Is it that sweet smile

Or the strange giggle I hear when you see something amusing

Maybe it's the way you look at me

Do you notice when I look at you?

I notice the way your eyes sparkle

The lisp that you hate and I adore

Every one of what you think are flaws

Are what I love about you

I can't describe how I feel when you touch my hand

Or look into my eyes

I can only say that I love everything about you

But you will never know because if you did

I would lose you forever

@UnknownTurtle

I've seen this a few times on my feed and I adore it. You've captured this feeling in a way that is often hard to express. I was surprised to see your note at the top because this is absolutely poetry and absolutely poetic. You have a gift for poetry and I just wanted to let you know.

I didn't know whether or not to comment when it was on my feed because it seemed so private, but now that it's here... since the first time I saw it I thought it was beautiful. It's the reason I followed you, actually. Chin up, darling. Whatever you're going through is temporary and you have an amazing gift when it comes to art. <3

I listen to your lies

I hide my tears behind false smiles

I nod and i agree to everything you say

I convince myself you love me

But when reality strikes

The tears dont hide

The true feelings surface

And your love turns to lies

In moments of clarity

I resent you

But as soon as you hold me

The resentment is gone

And you trap me once more

@Limbo32, the dilemma you portray is very real. The uncertainties, the seeming clarity when apart, and the dissolving of reason when together -- well said.

It's embarrassing

sorry if it's bad...

"Asphyxiated by the dead"

I wanna breath that I can take

Please don't let this breath be fake

You rip my throat of lies

You can see behind these eyes

Nothing's innocent anymore

I've been stripped right to the core

Of past, present and future

I'm not human anymore

I'm your dressed-up creature

I make a squeak of help

Not a roaring Yelp

I've put my socks on wrong again

Who cares, I'm already dead you cannot mend

My cut up throat where you stole my voice

You stole my breath

The most

Your words are like daggers cutting into me

They cut my cords of screaming for you to let me be

Do you not see?

What you do to me?

Because you've stolen my breath

I gasp for air

Please be fair

I need one breath

To set me free

One more breath

One piece of me

To keep me breathless

That's all I need

I open my mouth and nothing comes out

Nothing comes in

Without a doubt

Not a raindrop can save me now

I need one breath

To set me free

One more breath

One piece of me

To keep me breathless

That's all I need

...

~

Tyler [Edited by Anomalia to remove full name]

I Didn't Expect This

I can taste the color red

With all this spinning in my head

My eyes are closed

But my door isn't closed

Life is just a mess of words

And sometimes it hurts

Some of the metaphors reference triggery stuff (SI, Abuse, Trauma, Gender Issues) if you really look at it so. . .

Body

This is the cup the holds my soul

china bearing tea and milk and sugar

trembling and fragile on the table

rattling enough to be heard

there are chips in the paint

where cutlery in the sink

scraped the sides,

left barely there scratches

divots and tiny cracks

from too rough treatment

vein all around

giving texture to the smoothness

stains on the inside

colors mixing

some darker than others

tell the tale of drinks past

pink flowers grace vines

twining the sides

and they should be blue,

a manufacturing defect

carefully I clean the cup

polish it and wrap it softly

set it lightly on its shelf

It is the cup that holds my soul

@PubliusQ this was very moving! Thank you for sharing it.

@PubliusQ man i really like how you conveyed so much through the extended metaphor and damn that is some mad good imagery