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Poetry Automated Taglist!
by tommy
Last post
 December 13th, 2024
...See more Welcome to the Poetry Taglist This thread is an auto-updating list. The list is regularly updated by forum leaders and can be found below. Having issues? Reply below and someone will help you! Why should I join the taglist? ✔ Never miss out on sub-community check-ins, discussions or events ✔ Get tagged and notified by community leaders whenever a new relevant thread has been posted ✔ Become a more active member of the community. What do I need to do? ✅ To add yourself to this taglist, press the Post to Thread button below and write the exact words Please add me. ❌ To remove yourself from this taglist, press the Post to Thread button below and write the exact words Please remove me. ------------------------- Current taglist as of 21 Sept  (updated by @ComradeRuhi) @burningRain127 @HarmonyBlossom @HatsEatYou @HealingTalk @juliak1968 @LoveMyMoonflowers @Rareshadow666 @ShySmiler @tommy @Torean @YourCaringConfidant @mytwistedsoul @nessapressure05 @sadcat13 @MunchkinBerry @limegreenKiwi7397 @incredibleRainbows2036 @Est3lle @BelovedMe @unassumingEyes @iloveyouxx @enthusiasticBeach8170 @WondersWhispers @Redpanda2419 @peachPear727 @Fallenstar24
ZenArashi profile picture
Empty sky : A eulogy
by ZenArashi
Last post
 9 minutes ago
...See more The wind is still,   A leaf falls not a single sound   but its a quiet descent.      The tree, once full,   stands bare,   its branches reaching   into an empty sky.      The earth beneath me   feels colder now,   like the space   where you once stood.      I search the horizon,   but there’s no trace,   just the endless stretch   of what’s left behind.   And in the silence,   I wonder if the stars,   have forgotten to shine. 
BastionKnight profile picture
Yokai
by BastionKnight
Last post
 30 minutes ago
...See more Skin of scintillating scales that mantle a lithesome frame. Prismatic scutes adorn its hide in colours with no name. A mane of iridescent flame from nape, along the spine. Graceful claws on dexterous paws in silvered ivory shine. Diaphanous sharp spined fins Ride the tail behind the wings. Majesty in all its limbs. The crown, a crest of rugged horns. The fanged filled jaws sublime. Long flowing whiskers, golden eyes, the symbols of its reign. It hears the call, it flies again.   Unbound it leaps from cloud to cloud then plunges to the sea Then rising, rides the foamy swells that greet the estuary. Thrashing coils the flow become, within river current glides. Invisibly beneath the calm, silently upstream slides. Till river meets sewer spill, Clambering a concrete hill Into air both stale and still. From darkened windscreen, puddles gaze, and building's mirrored sides, Swimming in reflections fast, unheard, unfelt, and yet not free. Its perfumed passing, feathery.   When empty rooms grew vast and void with you alone inside, It wrapped around you, filled the space, and soothed you as you cried. When love's sweet flower grew sick and sour, tears would not end, It lent its heart until yours healed, and slowly helped it mend. When pain was sharp, it was there. When bullies strike, its teeth bare. When hurt or scared, it will care. Standing vigil as you begged agony and grief to end. It listened to the hated secrets that shame makes you hide Whispering to restore your pride.   How can I say this thing exists with such strong conviction. What makes me sure this is more than just a pleasant fiction. They once were more in times before our doubt pulled down a veil Till one by one their time was done, reduced to fairy-tale. Yet I know that one remains Standing guard to fight the banes. Tearing at our hidden chains. So, if you ever come across a strange pearlescent scale, Dare to let yourself dream in the face of contradiction. For hope is a kind affliction.
azurePond profile picture
Ghosts
by azurePond
Last post
 36 minutes ago
...See more TW : Gaslighting, Stalking The following text contains fictional elements that may include themes of fear, supernatural occurrences, and psychological tension. Reader discretion is advised. I felt it first in the corner of my eye, a shadow too persistent, too sure to be the swaying of a tree. Steps behind me when the street was empty, breath so close I thought it could fog my glasses, but when I turned, nothing. At home, it began small: the faint scrape of furniture shifting in the night, drawers left open by unseen hands. Then larger things— the way the curtains would ripple when the windows were shut tight, or how the scent of earth and mud lingered even after Auntie had scrubbed the floors. I swear I saw it once. Not fully. But enough. A figure crouched in the hallway, It was always there, just at the edge of light. Peering at me through reflections in the glass, its eyes burning while I pretended not to notice. Tonight, I keep my steps quick, but not quick enough. It doesn’t matter where I turn; the ghost doesn’t need shortcuts. It’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. And when it finally happens— when the street empties out, when I am alone— it runs at me, a scream rising in my throat just as its icy hand closes around my neck. I open my eyes in my bedroom, familiar but wrong. The curtains flutter as if someone just passed through. The lamp buzzes faintly, a sound that drills into my skull. And on my neck, dark bruises bloom like shadows pressed into my skin. She’s sitting in the chair by the window, her dark hair brushing her shoulders, her face carved from stone. Her eyes flicker to mine, and she sighs as if I am a chore she cannot escape. "Another ghost," she mutters, "No. It was a person. A stalker," I voice sternly. She raises her eyebrows high, And then- Then. She. Laughs. "What should I do with you? You have your mother's black, witchy eyes, and that's why the ghosts follow you—because of it. It’s your fault, really." "Not a ghost. We need the police!" I yell. The trembling starts somewhere deep, spreading to my hands as I clutch the blanket. She stands, her shadow stretching longer than it should, pooling at her feet like ink. "Better not leave this room," she says, her voice sharp, slicing the air. "The police are not ghostbusters. What you need is not an exorcism, but…" She raises her hand, and I flinch. Her lips curl into something unreadable, her eyes piercing as she leans closer, Her icy fingers digging on my jaw "They can smell it on you— the fear, the hunger, the cracks in your mind. So get it together. I don’t want another hazard like last year." Her words hang heavy, and the air in the room thickens, pressing me into the bed. I don’t ask what happened last year. I don’t want to know.
determinedSea4370 profile picture
Friday night
by determinedSea4370
Last post
 1 hour ago
...See more I didn't need it: the fizzy dulling the vulgar indulgence the release of blood. And yet that was my hand: in the fridge on the keys gripping the handle. I make my own daily apocalypse like it ever makes a difference in the relentless gray face of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. I keep falling for the trap of being my own fallen angel- the fruit must be bitten- that prophecy is in my blood. But for all my miserable transcendence I always return to the namesake of a damaged little girl.  And realize that I've done this to myself and everyone around me again. 
BastionKnight profile picture
Appreciation of Unsung Legends
by BastionKnight
Last post
 2 days ago
...See more Just a little rhyme as a thank you to some excellent people (@Innatejoy, @SolitaryBird, @blueLemon, @Tinywhisper11, @azurepond, @withpeACE, @TheSunisUpTheSkyisBlue, @halcyonCloud), as perhaps they are not acknowledged as often as they deserve. There are many more awesome people out there too, but my little brain can only scrabble together so many lines before it turns to scrambled jelly. A secret wood that maybe you pass through; Serenity and innate joy its grace. For there the Sun is up, the sky is blue, Across which a halcyon cloud might race, Ever changing, as on the zephyr blew. Nestled beneath the canopy's embrace, A reed cloaked azure pond, bejewelled with dew, Pristine mirror of celestial face. The wind, with tiny whisper calls to you. Here each fear may you now with peace replace. Enchanted beyond wildest dreams this view; A blue lemon would not seem out of place In this den of singing ash, oak, and yew, And sunlit cobwebs dance like liquid lace. A solitary bird sits watching you Which calms the heart to a sedentary pace.
determinedSea4370 profile picture
A certain blindness
by determinedSea4370
Last post
 2 days ago
...See more I had dismissed the hope that had brightened the morning curtains because the despair had tasted sweeter on my gilded pages- And if my lament is tender enough wouldn't someone else sing back my cries? But, my suffering isn't a philosophy- it isn't an aethestic. It's a raw wound that frustrates  and frightens the Tenders  of its constant bleeding. I'm not even a girl, but in fact a woman. There was an ordinary warmth in today's meals. Fresh laundry. The babyish mewling of a cat.  I like to dismiss the fact that actually I am alive. 
determinedSea4370 profile picture
A pretty warning
by determinedSea4370
Last post
 3 days ago
...See more I'm an eager abyss. I paint myself a gentle leader and daydream  of rearranging neurons of truth in children's heads- and then just watching them SEE and cry and cry.  My misery wants company. It wants an award. When the sky is grey I return to a familiar land- your endless blue skies are oppressive to me.
determinedSea4370 profile picture
The way I love
by determinedSea4370
Last post
 3 days ago
...See more I've only ever wanted your daydream- I want beautify your flesh and blood and have you tear me open and devour me.  I want your heart in my hand to quiver- a cup full of romantic tears in the sunlit abyss. The only way I know how to love is to destroy you- is to drag you down to my basement. Let's sit in the dark with this candle, baby. Let's summon some old ghosts.
ZenArashi profile picture
Bent but not broken
by ZenArashi
Last post
 3 days ago
...See more A single branch,   twisted by wind,   holds on to what remains.    The sky above, heavy with clouds,   and the earth below trembles. I stand in the hollow of a tree,   its bark peeling away like old wounds,   roots struggling to find a steady grip. The raging river beside me rises,   crashing against the slippery stones,   dragging murky memories in its wake.   The listless leaves above flutter and fall,   each one a quiet surrender,   but I do not let go.     I stand,   Bent but not broken,   This too shall pass. 
azurePond profile picture
Dumping My Tangled Thoughts in this Thread
by azurePond
Last post
 Saturday
...See more They know where your roots twist, how your leaves tremble in the wind. Empathy isn’t kindness here, it’s a hand that pulls the earth from beneath your feet. They don’t scream, just whisper with the weight of knowing, and you feel the ground shift where you thought it was solid. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They listen to every word, each pause between sentences, as if your silence holds secrets you never meant to share. They catch the rhythm of your heartbeat like a song they’ve learned to play, watching for the moments when it stutters, when it falters. They pause and play For their delight. Every breath, every sigh— it’s all cataloged and returned to you like echoes you can’t outrun. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Monsters roam in the daylight, teeth bared, eyes alight. I’m exhausted, tired and weak, a crack, a slip, they seek. They feast on my dread so deep— I just want to sleep. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tangled thoughts that spin and twist, a web of ideas, too fast to list. The mind races, but there's still peace in the mess that refuses to cease. A voice desperately whispers: It isn’t all that bad. The roof over my head, sturdy and sure, a shield from the storm, the night so pure. It isn’t all that bad. The soft bed beneath me, a place to rest, a sanctuary where my mind can find peace. It isn’t all that bad. Health in my bones, breath in my chest, a body that moves, a gift, at its best. It isn’t all that bad. Freedom to speak, to choose, to roam, a world of possibilities to explore. It isn’t all that bad. The coffee’s hot and dark and strong, it smells divine. It isn’t all that bad. A dog barks somewhere at nothing again, a strange sort of company. It isn’t all that bad. There’s a stain on my favorite shirt, but it reminds me of laughter and wine. It isn’t all that bad. The air is cold and bites at my skin, but it wakes me up like a slap of life. It isn’t all that bad. A mismatched sock hugs my left foot, a quiet rebellion against order. It isn’t all that bad. The rain whispers softly through the speakers, a gentle white noise filling the room. It isn’t all that bad. WiFi hums in the background, connecting me to thoughts, to words, to you. It isn’t all that bad. The 7 Cups website is open, a space for words and feelings to unfold. It isn’t all that bad. I write this poem, imperfectly, but it’s mine, and that’s enough. It isn’t all that bad. The small moments add up like beads on a thread, simple, flawed, but here. It isn’t all that bad. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
azurePond profile picture
A Feather In The River
by azurePond
Last post
 Saturday
...See more A Feather in the River I was staring into the river, Its surface smooth, Like a polished mirror too perfect to trust. A birthday party—or perhaps an anniversary. I can’t recall. I was a borrowed guest, Watching something odd in the water— A pale feather drifting, Circling as if caught on an invisible thread. "Be careful," he said, "Some people might be tempted to push you in." His voice was monotone, As though rehearsed a hundred times. I startled, turning towards him, His presence folding the air around him like static. I recognised him instantly— The kind of person spoken about In low whispers at gatherings, A name heavy with unsaid things. "Didn’t your parents teach you Not to stalk innocent girls?" My words were sharp, unsheathed, But his eyes reflected their edge, A predator amused by its prey. "Innocent girls?" he echoed, As if tasting the words. "Yes." The pause stretched before he added, "You’re the mermaid’s girl, aren’t you?" I didn’t flinch. The mocking tone, the nickname ‘mermaid’ All expected. I’d been warned. Prepared. "I am nobody's girl. And for your information, He's a merman. Don’t misgender people. It’s rude." His laugh was hollow, A sound that never reached the cold depths of his eyes. "A merman’s human afraid of water. How ironic," he said, "A psych0path jealous of a socially accepted merman. How ironic," I replied in the same cold tone. His reply was a smile, A blade dulled by disuse. ------------------------- The next time I saw him Was at my grandfather’s funeral. Not during the sombre ceremony, But at the gathering afterwards, Where grief mingled with awkward laughter. "I hate funerals," he said, His voice as casual as an invitation to tea. "People waxing poetics about the dead." He didn’t wait for a reply. "But he was a good grandfather, I suppose, Judging by your tears." "He is," I replied, unsteady. "Say he was," he corrected, His words precise as a surgeon's knife. "The sooner you adapt, the better." ------------------------- Another funeral. Another fleeting encounter. He leaned close. "If the Merman were here, He’d challenge you to forget him," He said, his tone like dried leaves underfoot. "He was a lover of games, wasn’t he? Always stirring up challenges?" My throat tightened, But I found my voice. "He sure was." His hand rested briefly on my shoulder, Solid, grounding. But as my vision blurred, He was already gone. ------------------------- At my aunt’s wedding, I had punched someone. Afterwards, As I sat outside, Nursing my knuckles in the evening air, The sky bruised purple and red. He appeared with a plastic bag of ice, Silent at first, Then crouched beside me. "For your hand," he said, As if this were routine. "You should see the other guy," I joked. "He deserved it,” His voice calm, unwavering, Like the river on a still day. "Of course you’d say that," I shot back. "And why wouldn’t I?" he countered, One brow arched in a silent challenge. "Well," I said, voice steady, "For someone diagnosed with ASPD, You’re better than all those psych0s inside." "Guess I fooled you too," he deadpanned. "Nah," I replied. "You’re not that good at manipulating Or hiding your intentions. Besides, I don’t care—" I paused, amending— "I don’t care if you fool me or ..." This time, I left first. But I turned back, My voice ringing out over the curious eyes. "I won’t be there for the next wedding or funeral. My dad’s sending me away." He didn’t wave back nor smile, There wasn’t a goodbye, But I caught it— The flicker of discomfort As all those stares pinned him down. A boy who wore shadows like a second skin, The man, suddenly wary of the spotlight He did not prepare for. ------------------------- The years flowed by, Like rivers carving new paths, Wearing down old edges. Alliances shifted, People became ghosts, And the world we knew Meandered into fresh green plains. The next time we met, There was no river, no funeral, No wedding to frame the moment. We stood as strangers, Or perhaps something worse. We met not as friends— Not that I ever truly was one. "Still afraid of water?" he asked, A faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, Though his eyes betrayed nothing. "And you?" I shot back, "Still afraid of being seen?" This time, his smile reached his eyes. Either he had mastered the art, Or the shadows were playing tricks. I do not know. -------------------------
winnersmile profile picture
The Life You Live
by winnersmile
Last post
 Saturday
...See more The life you live Is your choice Take it or leave it You have a voice Raise it high Even if it's a whisper Someone is watching Maybe your sister Friend Cousin or Foe Does not matter Just so you know You are important and Your voice counts Make a difference It's your choice Win or stay stuck Which will you choose? Today you can win Or decide to lose

Poetry

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