Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Within forest and thicket,
    Atop shaped stones and carved cliffs,
        Lies a concrete cabin.

Inside cement walls,
    Between wooden boards,
        Under timber and granite,

Hides a lone window.

In silence it opens,
    To a world between the rest.
Think quick.
Step through only now,
    As the window sinks back to asphalt.

Jump into my unknown.
Peer through thin curtains,
    Between gnarled wood and paved stone.
Down bone and brain.

Into a moment,
    A dreamt world amongst the stars.



A still black sea,
    Reflecting night sky's stare.
Alive as one, without wind, or tide.
Zero sound. No marks of man.
Just you, walking on dark.

But the universe watches from above,
    And with silent malice it reaches for you.

The stars speed closer as the sky leans in.
    Faster and faster,
        Racing, falling, its silence howls,
            Trapping you in-between.

As the black sea and the dark skies meet.

Lie down, face up.
    Feel the gap close as the two become one,
        And you'll see through everything.

Past stars, lonely moons, speeding comets.

To the invisible man behind.
Kalliope Aug 9
I want to float
without fear of sinking,
daydreaming away,
fully charged vape, no blinking.

I want the water cool on my skin
without all the goosebumps,
without fear of what lurks within.

I want to not think
while I do nothing at all,
but I feel so guilty-
like I’ve dropped the ball.

A lazy river for peace and relaxation,
full of nightmarish currents:
Relaxing is lazy-
No separations.

I want to do nothing
and recharge myself,
but doing nothing feels wrong,
wasteful of time
when there’s people to help.

There’s rooms to sweep,
clothes not put away,
I’m behind on sleep,
and still, somehow,  I decay
I want to rest without feeling guilty
Shambhavi Aug 5
I walked through woods all dressed in white,
With dust of snow , my wounds felt light.
A crow appeared in falling snow,
Its silence chilled my heart below.
It perched upon a hemlock bare,
And all my hopes dissolved in air.
Beneath its gaze, so cold and free,
I found myself , dead, beneath the tree.
This poem is exactly the reverse of Sir Robert Frost's work Dust of Snow while in the negativity a dust of snow sparked hopes in him but for me when i was fulled with hopes something happened and i lost hopes in almost everything😔
Shambhavi Jul 30
Sometimes the clouds of thought gather too thick,
Blanketing the soul,
Until it forgets.....
The vast blue it once called home.
Stress can really cause random poetries😅
Limes Carma Jul 29
They say I smile a little more,
That I don’t drag my feet like I did before.
I sleep through nights I used to fight,
No weight of wrong to make things right.

I left before the final storm,
I knew you’d be waiting with a pistol drawn.
No slammed door, no screaming scene —
Just walked away from what we’d been.

You loved the me that stayed in line,
Not the man in me I tried to find.
You saw me cracking but stuck to your ways —
Just glad it wasn’t your pain to face.

Now I ain’t saying that there was no cost,
Some things you leave still feel like loss.
But peace ain’t loud — it just shows up slow,
And I’ve been feeling better since I let you go.
© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma
Emric Arthur Jul 26
My house is a mess,
So is my mind and body,
I can’t live off stress.
I live on an island.
Just me and my 2.3 million thoughts.

It's getting crowded here,
I looked to the right,
and the money worries are in sight

I turn a corner,
there's housing waiting for an order

I spin around to the sound of my Independence,
crying with fear,
she may be about to be taken away

I look up and see my capabilities questioning me

I need my thoughts to stop all talking
This island is too full.
I want to get off

My finances are taking a hit
It's not my fault,
Not one bit

I can't take on anymore. My Island is about to sink

On the count of three… just stop.
A poem I wrote on the heart of stress and anxiety. I'm so glad I found poetry it's so therapeutic.
eliana Jul 19
Stress is feeding on me,
******* out my soul.
I feel my body weakening,
it refuses to let go.

I'm going kind of pale,
blood is dripping down my arm.
Tears are falling from my eyes;
a pain pierces my heart.

I'm confused
and don't know what to do.
I want to end it all,
but you don't want me to.

Living life is fine,
but stress makes it tough.
Your smile used to make me happy;
now that's not enough.

Stress is killing me,
putting me to rest.
But I'll try not to leave you,
I'll try my very best.
Rosie Mg Jul 19
Threads mold my throat.
Crumpled paper lay within wrinkles
of time,
mountains of ideas strike the clock

I've run out of lines,
and gasp without air
a faint squeal
as my head bobbles off.

                   S
                                  P
                           ­                     L
                                          ­                 A
                                                               ­         T.
Written in 2022.
Shambhavi Jul 17
What is life?
What’s life, really?

When you think you’ll win,
but you lose.
When you think you’ll achieve,
but you fail.
When you think you’ll survive…
but you're dead.
And I think....I'm dead
Well, writing after a very long time. I don't know how to start but just somethings are not in our hands its very unpredictable just imagine you gave your soul into something but still not able to achieve even 1% of it that's what life is don't know if these things are already written by God or its just a bad luck but these struggle **** a person from inside I might stop writing poetry but will never forget the hardwork I did for achieving my dreams and I guess I won't even be able to sleep well until and unless I didn't get sucesss
Next page