Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Dec 2018 MicMag
Mike Hauser
You might think that I'm happy
All of the time
But inside my smile
Is upside down
Otherwise, you wouldn't
Want me around
If all you ever saw
Was a continuous frown
I guess that's why
I'm always clowning around
Not wanting others to see
Me feeling down
It's the only way I can think
To keep you around
On the outside a smile
On the inside a frown
Dry
.
It
is
true,
you are
totally right.
I'm as dry as
a desert, I'm a dead
empty land. I used to be
a  jungle  when  the  clouds
where by my side, and now that
they are gone, my trees, my dreams
they dried and died. Because of this,
nothing grows inside of me, there is
only silence and despair. I can't feel
what  I  write,  I  barely  feel alive
I want to feel human again
Oh god, I really miss
the rain
Es frustrante tener  las palabras pero no el tiempo y luego tener el tiempo y no recordar las palabras
 Dec 2018 MicMag
Ally Ann
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't
 Nov 2018 MicMag
Krishnapriya
I wonder what secret
The trees whisper to the breeze?
Do the birds hear that secret
And announce it in their song?

Does the wind hold it
And drop it in the seas?
Does the sea speak it out
And share it with the stars?

Do the heavens then resound
With the secret of the trees?

And the clouds,
Oh yes! Those clouds
Blue, black and grey
Is that why come rushing?

Across the seas to caress
With gentle rain the trees
And whisper,
"Heaven knows your heart,
There are no secrets from God."

The trees smile and sway
Fulfilled and complete in love.
 Nov 2018 MicMag
Star BG
Spider Poet
 Nov 2018 MicMag
Star BG
They call me a spider-like poet
spinning a web of poetic threads.
Each golden fiber becomes a phase.
Each finger like spinneret weaves
gracefully cross keyboard floor.

They call me a spider-like poet.
Each poem from hub of heart.
Each woven vision calls to readers eyes.
But worry not, my creative lattice of poem
will not end your life.
Just get you stuck for a while
as you sway inside poetic song.
Inspired by Cisco James Haiku Fatal Traps Thanks
 Nov 2018 MicMag
Saber wilson
Demons
 Nov 2018 MicMag
Saber wilson
She stood on the bridge
In silence and fear
For the demons of darkness
Had driven her here

They cut her heart
Right out of her chest
Making her believe
That the demons knew best

They were always there
Sometimes just out of sight
Waiting in the background
Till the time was right

These demons were destructive
Knocking down the life she knew
Hating everything about her
She hated herself too

These demons can't be seen
But they're far from fairy tales
They live inside your mind
Their evilness prevails

So on the bridge she stood
About to end the fight
Then she stopped and thought
I'll fight them one more night
Next page