Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Weeds are
my favorite plants.
Their bad reputations
attract me the most.
They persevere.
They are successful.
They teach me to disdain
the world's opinions.
They remind me it is good
to be on earth
for no other reasons than
the joy of sunshine and rain.
They live on the edge
where everything
interesting happens.
I am very much a **** myself.
Weeds are something you
can count on to be there.
Not many such anchors
in one life. Take a hold;
pull one out. It will be back.
Count on it.

  ~mce
In the clouds
They met as they did underground
Lonely and lost
Devoid of all thought
Nothing changed
Yet nothing was the same
They walked and slept
Forever
In their lonely eternity
Soulless creatures they lived
Soulless creatures they died
Everything they knew was a lie
How is this possible?
Rejected by a website,
At least that's how I feel.
Not enough likes,  not enough messages.
But what else is new?  
It's been this way since I was a kid...

Insecurity, neediness
It's not very attractive.
Maybe it's time to grow up.
We need some light.
The morning sun,
the breaking dawn.
Midday warmth
and basking in the sun.
The setting sun,
the dying light.
We need some light
to see the truth.
I missed sharing my words. I don't dare call it poetry. I just missed it.
I dreamt an Angel came to me
With a grin and blood on his face.
Still, a tear was in his eye.
His head hung in disgrace.

He did not speak a word to me
Yet, I knew his mind.
I felt he was a part of me,
As I am, cruel; but kind.

He took me to a stair well
Leading up and down,
Splayed in e'er' direction,
As I gazed around.

Then, were lambs and goats
Battling in a field of fire,
And swine possessed of a madness;
To which I could not aspire.

The Angel pointed, with boney claw,
At the desert and the sea.
I could not choose between the two
Which one should I be.

His wisper was a fount
Of living, crystal clear
Water moving over me,
Flowing in my ear.

His fiery cloak embraced me.
It burned upon my skin.
He brought me to ground, turned me around.
The Mystery has no end.
This is the first poem I wrote that had ever been published. I was 26. I have always been really proud of it. It was lost in the bottom of my entries so I am reposting.
tigers are chasing you tonight
they will eat you tonight
just like animals like animals
oh-oh-oh
Next page