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Luna Feb 2019
Come dear night,
My veil from all the
Dreadful tales of the world
As the sun spirals down
I welcome you with open arms.

Lie with me
Beaneath the moon
That’s not the least
Ashamed to spy on our
Little meeting.

The silence
Left in the wake of dead
Seems to be our piece,
Our cue for the ball
That didn’t happen till yet.

Perfect twirls—
I can’t help but
Feel your loneliness as comfort
To me ;

The night and I —
Perfect companions.
Luna Feb 2019
Madness like a red coat
Around her throat
Drowning in the ruins
Of her own misery
And
Own sorrow
O’ dear child,
You should have stayed
In that garden of yours
Among the myriads of
Growing daises
And
Gifting each of us a violet
For centuries to keep
But how long can
Leaves shade you
From the
Many faces of fate—
The cruelest ones always name after us,
Victims.

Dwell in the many layers of rosemary and pansies;
Look how is ironic history just became
With its indelible smell of
Fennel and Columbius ;

Drawn towards the many
Spun webs of the
Golden singing spiders—
She floats amongst the
Water lilies
From here on.
Eleanor Feb 2019
And if I loved you more than you loved me,
would anyone in truth of it be wise?
I measure you not in soliloquy,
but how you hold me when I start to cry.
If all the world did freeze and cease to turn,
the sun, and moon, and stars exit stage left,
the feeling would be something like this burn
that scalds me as you take up my time— theft.
We laugh, we cry, I hurt, we hug— but see?
I know that doubt will live here in my head,
so long as you share not your heart with me;
it’s easier to fade away instead.
I love you still, but needing to be free,
I’ll take the heart you left; it still belongs to me.
Dean Feb 2019
Sliding the glass up and open; I’m out,
Fluid, silent, smoke creeping through a crack.
Heavy air sits atop my chest, I shout
To the dreams that are never coming back.
But oh! Why must you leave after each night,
What, with the risk of never returning?
I crave your gleaming, and cry as I might
You leave me sitting in the rain, mourning.
And though the fireflies stay beside me,
The pit pat of driz’ling water up high,
And dew on the grass give me company,
Tis your constellations that catch my eye;
Easing me to sleep when you come to show,
I lay in slumber on the roof; you go.
I actually wrote an sonnet, following shakespearean rules both rhyming and syllable wise. I've very proud of this and it have an immense deep meaning to me.
Dedicated to: him
Gelz Feb 2019
I think
    maybe Shakespeare
  did write our story.
Because darling right now,
our love is a tragedy.
kiran goswami Feb 2019
If I would have been in place of Shakespeare,
All my sonnets would have been about you.
My fantasies would fantasize about you.
I would have composed ballads and free verses,
On the letter sheets of my heart,
I would have written with a sparkling quill,
drenched in my emotions.

If I would have been in place of O.Henry,
All my short stories would have been about you,
About how we met and how I fell.
I would have penned novels and dramas,
On the sacred pages of my skin,
I would have written with a sparkling quill,
drenched in my emotions.

But, well, I'm nothing more than an
An ordinary girl who is in love with an ordinary guy,
Who takes her to extraordinary places.

An ordinary guy who holds her hand out of nowhere,
An ordinary guy who romanticizes every stare.
An ordinary guy who looks at her with love in his eyes,
An ordinary guy who is ready for her, to live and to die.
An ordinary guy who asks her " Can I kiss you? ",
An ordinary guy who makes dreams come true.
An ordinary guy who makes stars sing,
An ordinary guy who makes flower rings.
An ordinary guy who left himself for her,
An ordinary guy who painted her with love colour.
An ordinary guy who looks at her like she's the only one,
An ordinary guy who makes the beats of her heart run.
An ordinary guy who sings love songs,
An ordinary guy who makes right out of wrong.
An ordinary guy who makes her write,
An ordinary guy who encourages her to fight.
An ordinary guy who calls her life,
An ordinary guy who wants to make her his wife.

I'm nothing but an ordinary girl,
who is deeply and madly in love
with this ordinary guy.
Rebecca Jan 2019
The ocean, consume me.
I hear your call to me like a mother cow to her calf,
A low drawling echo that grows with the hour.
Or the calf to its mother,
you call me home
to suckle on my breast where in it my heart beats.
Drum, drum.
Be still the drums.
Laying deep in dark abyss.
The drums, the drums.
I smell the salty air
It haunts my passage, staining my dress
with crusted, crystallised foam.
Will this heart ne'er be clean?
To be filthied by shame, now unworthy to him
by the sea and what it has done to me.
I wait for you.
You growing pains, you. You wisdom teeth pushing through.
The dust settles in my candle light.
The little white flecks fall together like prancing dandelion seeds
as fragile as children who have been wasted in your hands like white gold,
thrown away.
What they could have been had they fallen to my hands.
Rosey and blue-eyed with marjoram soft hair.
So I wait, breath now freezing with the in and out
steadying as the tide rises.
It calls me to consume me.
Dare I step to it? Submerse my feet within the waves.
One more hour, one more day - tick, tock, tick, tock.
But what if this hour he comes my way?
Descending from heaven, knocking at my gate.
The crash of the ocean against my hull.
Wait, wait, for my life and forever, I will wait.
The ocean, consume me.
A response to Sir John Everett Millais's 1851 painting 'Mariana', Inspired by Alfred Tennyson's 1830 poem 'Mariana' "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!"
Matt Sol Jan 2019
The obfuscate
I find chagrin,
and here we go
around again.
The obfuscate
I find chagrin,
and here to bring
me down again.

Undulating.
Undulating.

Through the echoes,
left for wayward,
lost and scattered
in hereafter.

Undulating.
Undulating.
Kale Feb 2019
Hey Shakespeare,
Could you write a happy ending?
I want to sit and read a book,
Where I finally feel I’m winning.

I wish I didn’t care all the time,
But here we are,
I’m wanting your hand in mine

I love being in love,
But it hurts every time
Can someone please explain
why I still try?
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