Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
FunSlower Jul 2021
Oh werewolf with woollen wings,
Whimpering in the willows.
Thou vile voice a vice grip
Stuffed inside her pillows.
Yours is a violent cry for help
One should never have to hear.
So dare come near, just know it clear.
Your fleer; my leer. For tears, jeers and
Featherweight fears will never break weirs that
Forever fill wells deeper than the darkest hole
You gouged in the lightest soul.

Your sword; her shield. My words; wounds healed.
I’m ever bending moonlight to set it right.
Go haunt yourself through a never ending night!
A single silver bullet shimmers in her sunlight.
The same one you shot upright.
Falling fast into the broken bed you made.
Now let it embed deep in your head. Well played.
There once was a wolf who cried “boy”.
And once should have been enough.
It’s time to torment yourself instead.
Hurting her never made you tough.
In the dead of night
When the sun is far away
All life starts anew
Haiku 2
Melody Mann Jun 2021
When hope simmers down and despair sets in,
Look up.
See beyond the clouds,
Past the sunlight,
Into the abyss,
And receive the abundance that lies above,
The universe loves you,
You're here for a reason,
Embrace your individuality.
Erian Rose Jun 2021
As the days grow long
And nights shrivel to hours
The feeling of little sunflowers
In the eversinking sunlight
Bloom softly among
Lonely, setting summer skies
Abraham May 2021
I bang my elbow in the shower,
takes a second to realize why

not that I was careless
or enjoy pain, again

but the cascara
cowbell, saxophone,

hands around my shoulders
that are not my own

sunlight squeezing lemons,
flower dress upon the hill

potato enchilada
still
digesting
messing
with my footwork

    possibly

maybe

    I was careless.

Showers are not the place for salsa.
internetgirl Apr 2021
i was taking pictures of you
with flowers in your hair
and i couldn't help but notice
the way your eyes held the sunlight
like the way
you
held
me
Rea Apr 2021
lately i've been mourning something.
i think i miss loving myself.
i grieve for the girl of sunlight and pride.
she is not here anymore,
what has taken her place feels like
the fog of no man's land.
sigh
chloie Apr 2021
soon the porch will be in shadows,
and my sunlight will be met
not by my hair or hopeful eyes
but by concrete walls instead.

and I fear I will have nowhere
but I won't go back inside.
as dreary as the porch will be,
I refuse the chance to hide.
TomDoubty Apr 2021
Is this what writers do?
Conjure the worst then set you there, contorting
to listen for the beauty that sings in suffering?
Your boiling body fights, trembling
and next to you in darkness, brooding
I see the struggling and the worst
and imagine  your beauty

as a memory that enters a room
full of mourners-
sunlit breeze captured
in billowing fabric
which turning and holding
there for a moment
lets you go
as the tears and the chatter
go on

Jan 2021
Next page