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dilated tears, those that cut through your eyes – in the
silence of hope, I know love will call for me part-time;
working myself just to prove forever. but it always stays
the same, fighting the headache of it all – smiles dissolving
away like an aspirin in a glass of water

where you rest your mind on everything you had; memories
are just gravestones, where we bury ourselves in – hoping
they too find their resurrection

in memory; I’ve written dreams of love on chiselled marble
slabs – lettered in gold, where we loved each other, close
enough to death; ending if all off as two concrete bodies

love makes death jealous, on how good it plays the waiting
game. the still waiting of a grandparent, who reaches their
own old age, knowing in death, they will finally meet their
lover once again.
                love is age, and that love is beautiful!
Maria Etre Jan 15
I gave my
gut
a voice
it
gave me
cœur-
age
cœur: means heart in French
silvervi Jan 6
I was chasing a perfect picture of myself
till now
Fooling myself, I thought the outward was the answer
Realizing the impermanence of our bodies
Sends warm shivers and prickles down my spine.

Where one is fighting gravity
Another one is fighting life itself
One may embrace poverty
Another one may struggle in rich hell

As strong as grief
The body will let go
Our minds repeat
The patterns ever-slow

This night's embrace
May only cause surrender
The outward image
Dissipates in madness

And only thing alive -
Quiet awareness.  
What's missing?
Our joy in hearts -
Therein lies only sadness.
Learning to accept nature's flow of life.
A.I. Poet pounding at keys,
a lifetime of memories in
Chat GPT.

Punch up a sunset hues of
crimson and gold,

Throw in some birds,
Hit generate,
watch it unfold.

Selecting a font,
I couldn't
hazard a guess,

I'll just select an emotion
let A.I. do the rest.

Funny, this Insta-poetry is starting
to all sound the same,

Can't get any views,
I'm going insane.

Gotta find some new prompts
to up my game.

This Stupid AI ****,
is getting pretty lame!
Hey Roger this ones for You let me know what you think.

Just posted a video for this on my you tube channel
hope you all will check it out.

www.youtube.com/@tsummerspoetry
Thanks.
25
My best friend died
My boyfriend said he hates me
And I've been thinking lately
That it's not all in my head
I broke my mirror last week
I can't stand my own reflection
It was just some raw emotion
I can't wait for my damnation
Because girls like me
We don't get salvation
I sleep with my rosary
But God still isn't listening
I could tell my mom I’m sorry
But I doubt she would forgive me
And really I can't blame her
Because sinners come from sinners
I can't wait to die
Or maybe I'm just twenty-five.
I wrote this 2 years ago when I was certain the world was going to implode around me. It didn't.
It opens in transition
Warm Texas rain in June
Dallas in a cocoon
--
Kingdom of the sad harvester
Crop of tears raised in the sun
Forming long shadows on the screen
--
Starlight in cathedral
This explosion within
Enter the soldiers
Enter the dragon
--
Framed insects
Relying on hidden stairwells
To cover their hasty escape
To seal their fate
--
Inside a fascist restaurant
The men hiccup and cigarette
The women just smile and pirouette
Dancing around the blast zone
Detonating minds and hearts
Just as the end credits roll
MadRad Jan 3
Age is 20,
Too much he thinks,
One heartbreak,
Whenever he touches it still stings.
Three real lovers,
And one make-out session in a back of a car,
A couple in his room,
One over the Nile,
And the last was at the bar.
Two favorite poets,
One Jewish sage
With songs verses so rare,
One Arab bard
From a hot deserts bare.
When he was 16,
He had a goal of becoming a successful engineer,
And the other is to make a million or two.
At 20, he's got only a keyboard and his energy is few.
Smokes to numb the daily sting,
Drinks to feel what life might bring.
He's full of love, it aches his heart,
Two real friends, a few colleagues,
And a guardian angel playing the harp.
Three sisters but he went away for college,
A father he can't stand up to,
Because he hasn't built the courage.
Twenty years still he knows nothing
Twenty years but he’s still scared
and doesn’t know what’s coming.
Zywa Dec 2024
Well, what my age is?

I have many and waver --


Which one shall I choose?
Novel "Jackson's Dilemma" (1995, Iris Murdoch), chapter Six

Collection "Unspoken"
Nemusa Dec 2024
No more lullaby,

the night hums a quiet tune—

age steals its sweet song.
A M Ryder Feb 16
Their names and
Story are lost
To time but
They clearly meant
The world to someone
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