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Eyal Lavi Aug 2017
Part 2

The old man sits upon his chair and speaks words slip with spit they drip - drip drip - he speaks but no one’s there. From thought to speech the old man speaks, his words released hang in the mist formed out of air so thick and dense it ebbs and flows and dances with a constant freeze brought by the breeze thus when he speaks the old man sees the sounds that slip from his own lips...

...Each word a sound each sound a note encased in ice the words take form; his thoughts comprised of merging chords which morph into the words whose form is slick and round, encased in ice, shine like a string of flawless pearls.

A burden air can never bare the string of pearls falls from mid-air. Pearls hit the floor with such great force that impact shatters words like bones upon a field where battles roared, souls ripped from form thus die his words; remains of thoughts the old man spoke, words torn apart reduced to chords in piles litter scatter wasted cursed forever to be words unheard like treasures lost, no! never found or heard, his words the unearthed pearls of thoughts he thought and dared to speak though fate he knew would have them be forever lost beneath the sea where words from chords and notes will never see the day nor know the heat when they would shine under the sun though smooth and round their form once was when once the shattered chords were words.

There was a time his words had form their form was round like pearls or drops of water dripped from leaky faucets drip they slip from rusty lips into the sink and down the pipes which snake throughout the secret house, they drip the words words slip his thoughts from lips are lost drip drip the words in chords thoughts drip are lost in sinks forever gone the old man thinks…

Drip drip he speaks words slip drip drip from lips words drip their form drip drip so round the sound from chords which merged and formed the words he thinks and speaks and let's thoughts drip released expelled he sees the strings of pearls his words afloat drip drip the words the sound he hears or heard he thinks once there he sees or saw he saw he knows he did let words drip drip from lips but then drip drip he knows he sits he rocks on boards within drip drip a house where secrets drip, the words, drip drip the sound, they slip forever gone as if they once were sounds which maybe formed the maybe thoughts he may have thought the old man thinks that maybe he just never spoke the words which maybe never were the thoughts he thought or did he think he didn’t know now doesn’t know not like the sound he knows he hears the drip, drip drip drip from rusty lips of leaky faucets down the sink...

The End Part 2
This is the 2nd part of a 3 Part poem titled Drip Drip Drip Eyal Lavi
storm siren Oct 2017
Drip
Drip
Drop

Do you hear it?

No?

Listen closer.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Can you feel it?

No?

Close your eyes.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Breathe in.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Breathe out.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Can you hear her voice?

Drip
Drip
Drop

Do you know what she's saying?

Drip
Drip
Drop

I don't think we should listen.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Did it just get colder?

Drip
Drip
Drop

Can you hear it?

Drip
Drip
Drop

It's coming from the walls...

Drip
Drip
Drop

What? No, wait--

Drip
Drip
Drop

Is that..?

Drip
Drip
Drop

She's at the backdoor.

Drip
Drip
Drop

N-no, no please!

Drip
Drip
Drop

It's so quiet.

Drip
Drip
Drop

I think it's over.

Drip
Drip
Drop

Wait...

Drip
Drip
Drop

Do you hear it?

Drip

Drip

Drop
Dennis Scherle Jan 2014
Drip drip drop
I watch the blood run dwn my leg then pool on the bathroom floor in one spot
Drip drip drop
I lock the door so i wont be caught
Drip drip drop
I lock the foor so i wont be stopped
Drip drip drop
I look at my leg this is for my flesh as i carve n F
Drip drip drop
This is for the ******* remarks in place i carve an A
Drip drip drop
Im done with being called an idiot accedentally so i carve an I
Drip drip drop
For everyone who called me a looser or laughed i carve an L
Drip drip drop
People who made me feel useless this is for you as i carve a U
Drip drip drop
This is for those who made me realize what i am so i carve an R
Drip drip drop
This ones for me the last letter i carve an E
Drip drip drop
I lay in the tub watching the water run red replaying FAILURE over and over in my head
Chalsey Wilder May 2014
Drip drip
I'm lying in bed
It's freezing cold
With only a thin blanket to cover me

Drip drip
There's a window right beside me
The sun is rising
I can feel the light on my skin, but it gives me no warmth

Drip drip
I'm me
Then I'm my other me

Drip drip
I am so cold I no longer shiver
My lips are blue
My skin pale white porcelain
My body is stiff
Can't move

Drip drip
The heat from my body leaves me with every exhale

Drip...drip
I can't feel my body

Drip....drip
My eyelids close slowly
I'm sleepy

Drip.....drip
Am I dead?
Cause I can't feel a thing


Drip......drip
I can still hear the water dripping

Drip.......drip
I can't feel myself breathing

*
Thump Thump Thump
Cold death's door is waiting
I hear no dripping
I hear it no more
You would have to read my poem "When lamination" to get the line when I said "I'm me
Then I'm my other me"
But I hope you like this.
c;
Corlene Beukes Aug 2015
it starts slowly.
drip. drip. drip.
cells stand in line.
drip. drip. drip.
thoughts pack their things.
drip. drip. drip.
air collects its children.
drip. drip. drip.

the opening in front them,
like a gaping wound,
beckons and gleams.

cells, thoughts, air
stumble against
the throngs of others.

it stops slowly.
drip. drip. drip.
cells leave their line.
drip. drip. drip.
thoughts lose their luggage.
drip. drip. drip.
air abandons its children.
drip. drip. drip.
Carley Aug 2014
Drip drip drip
Goes the IV
Into my arm and
Into my brain

Drip drip drip
Goes my eyes
Salt water streaks
And my ears ring

Drip drip drip
Goes the wrists
Blades colored red
And slits bleeding sadness

Drip drip drip
Goes my heart
Screaming profanity
While being ripped open.

Drip drip drip
Goes the sky
Pieces polluting the ocean

As my world falls apart.*
-CsR
i understand now why some people do it—
shred their wrists so something can escape,
can breathe, can force its way out of your skin—
drip drip drip like the sink faucet that doesn’t
quite work, because at least drip drip drip isn’t
choking on the nothing you can’t say or gasping
for things you wish you could feel and it only
leaves you clawing for heartbreak with bloodied hands
and ripped fingernails like
ohgod,ohgod,air,breathe,keepbreathing,ohgod
and drip drip drip and screams that echo in your
mind like a mantra instead of tearing from your
throat and if a tree falls but nobody is around to hear it
does it still make a sound?
does it? does it?
drip drip drip like steady clockwork, but maybe not
the sane kind, just the kind that’s losing something--like
your mind or possibly blood, and you know it isn’t healthy,
it’s a sickness, a disease, a different kind of drug addiction
and the syringe needle is leaking drip drip drip until its
too late and you just drift drift drift away and your
heart explodes without oxygen but at least you feel it,
and even when you’re too far away to hear it, you know
you’re drip drip dripping.
Relle Apr 2017
Drip drip drip
Rain cascades your window
With swirling patterns
Running down and across
Drip drip drip
Droplets of water in your sink
Echoes throughout the room
As you quietly listen
With eyes looking dazed ahead
Drip drip drip
Waterfall flowing through
Hands lightly brushing the floor
Head resting softly
Body floating lightly
Drip drip drip
You swim away aimlessly
In your own red sea
Drip drip drip
One drop two drops to three
Drip drip drip
On the tub to the floor
From your lined wrists
Leaking of red sea
As it Echoes
Drip drip drip.
Anonymess Sep 2017
Soft Voice, Loud Thoughts
Like the drip, drip, drip
Of a tap that won't,
No, can't get fixed.

And those words otherwise
Left unheard drip, drip, drip
With the broken tap
Allowong those Loud Thoughts,
With those Soft Voices
Their means to their end;
To shout...
Drip, drip, drip

And the shouting is not that
Shrieking, screaming
Of a child left unfed
Or a mother left mourning
But rather of those few words
Drip, drip, drip
That make their way past
A vocal cord which feels as though
It has already been ripped out

A vocal cord ripped out by those
Loud Voices with Soft Thoughts,
With rough hands and rougher tongue
Who use and abuse their words
Like everything else they've  thrown away.
Drip. Drip. Drip.

And so Loud Thoughts with Soft Voices
Are made to feel obsolete
In a world of shrieking, screaming, shouting!
Drip! Drip! Drip!
But Loud Voices with Soft Thoughts
Would rather shout at brick walls
Than... Breathe...
       And then so ... what's the point?

Those Loud Thoughts with Soft Voices
Sooner or later begin to deafen themselves
With the Soft Thoughts of Loud Voices
And that drip, drip, drip
Of Soft Voices with Loud Thoughts
Rushes and Gushes with the shrieking,
Screaming and shouting
At brick walls.

Can you still feel your vocal cords?
Inspired by the drip, drip, drip of a broken tap and that of careless words left to linger
I stopped.
My feet rested on the cool cement, and I listened.
Every tree, every bush, was whispering.
It started as a murmur, and grew.
Soon it was as if every forest in the world was talking, talking, whispering, whispering.
The voices faded for a moment, but it was not silent, for someone else was speaking.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.
The rain was speaking to me.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.
No, it was not speaking, it was singing.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Whizz. Drip. Drop. Whizz.
All around me it was swirling and falling and rising again to continue the song.
The trees had joined the song again.
Now it was as if they shouted their song with the rain.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Then, in a moment, the heavens broke open and a downpour of music flooded the earth where I stood.
The music ran.
It danced.
It rushed under my feet and all around me it sang.
I looked down at my feet and saw they were moving.
I looked up and the world swirled around me again and again.
I was dancing.
The rhythm of the music moved me with the waters and I flew with it.
I whirled around and around and around.
My heart flew with the music.
Through the whispering trees, through the rain in the air.
I danced and danced, unashamed and unaware of the world around me.
And then, as quickly as it had started, it began to stop.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop.
Drip. Drop.
Saint Ozz Apr 2014
Drip drip drip
The sunset cracked the surface of her permafrost heart
Drip drip drip
The candlelit feast fed the flames of the passion denied
Her heart as fossil frozen away and yet the smell of summer experienced
Seeped deep into her countenance and so it was the melting of the snowman
Drip drip drip
His touch pierced the outer wall
Her lips freed to his drip drip
Her hands held in passion drip drip
The melting of a permafrost heart
A little from the edges freed then more and more breaking fee
To beat free from bonds of frigidity
And so the ice melted piece by delicate piece
The woman fossilized, the man rebuilt in heat of a summer.
A short poem about letting ago, you know releasing the sphincter a little
Phoebe Taylor Mar 2013
Drip… drip. The endless soundtrack of that leaky faucet,
Drops of water waste away, minutes trickle by.
Melted wishes flow on down, those pipe dreams only that.
Drip… drip. They all collect in that sea of broken promises.
Drip… drip. The Pacific, the Atlantic, they are dwarfed by this, the broken ocean.
Drip… drip. The waves do not crash, the storms do not roar, they do not recycle this endless sea.
Drip… drip. No ship has ever dared sail, for none will come running back.
Drip…drip. Not a ripple above, but a wail from below, those hopes just don’t want to let go.
Drip… drip. Maybe there’s a girl up there… maybe a boy… maybe they’ll go fishing, maybe they’ll brave a sail on that lonely river.
Drip…drip. Maybe they’ll care to mend piece of that broken ocean.
Drip… drip. Maybe. Maybe someday, someone will come. Maybe someone with know-how, and some brains to match it up. They’ve got to have a heart, but maybe… someday.
Drip… drip. But for now, we just listen to the soundtrack, of that leaky faucet.
PH Jul 2011
Through that hole in the roof,
devoid of tar and shingle, I
                                              drip.

From that shower head
that needs just a wrench twist, I
                                                      drip,
   ­                                                   drip.    
    ­                                                            
That­ patch on the driveway,
beneath the car, just tuned up, I
                                                      drip,
   ­                                                       drip,
    ­                                                   d r i p.

In the back of a dream,
that stirs us to wake, I
                                     drip,
                    ­                               drip.

When that old dog only
gets older, sicker, I
                                drip,
                         ­                   drip.

Where nose ends and
cheeks turn into chin, I
                                       drip.

On the counter top a bottle- tipped,
chipped. I can't recall, but I
                                               drip,
                                                drip.
­
Overflowing and fraught with guilt,
a kettle of doubt, one carelessly spilt, I
                                                               drip,
                                                          ­    drip,
                                                      ­       **d r i p.
revised slightly 11/2/11
Kendall Seers Mar 2018
Drip drip drip
goes the tap
screaming fills the room
a rush of feet
the dripping continues
join us join us
echo the ghosts
of my grandmother’s past

Drip drip drip
It just won’t stop
Just as suddenly as it began
Screaming fades abruptly
entering softly
my hairs stand on end
haunting my dreams
for the rest of my nights

Drip drip drip
there she lies
hair white
mouth wide
a terrified look
frozen in her eyes
eternally
indelible is the sound of the tap
going
Drip
Drip
drip
An old school poem, based on a Malorie Blackman ghost story by the same name.
Scotty B Dec 2012
Focus...
Focus...
Focus!
What?
Okay,
What is this?
The walls,
The bloodied white walls.
Are we okay with this?
My feet,
What the HELL is at my feet?
I can't see with all this ******* white light.
This shimmering white light.
Are we okay?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
Clocks on the walls?
Focus...
Focus!
What?
Open your eyes,
Quick!
QUIET!
What's that crawling on the walls?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
Are these...
Molecules!
Okay.
Okay.
Focus...
Just focus.
I think I'm missing.
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
Someone should turn down these lights,
Before I lose my minds.
Where did I even find the time?
Focus...
Focus...
Focus!
My hair;
It's gone!
Who took my ******* hair?
Focus on the paranoia,
Focus on the paranoia,
Focus on...
What's in our leg?
I can feel it,
I can grab it,
Got it!
What the **** is that?
Is that...
Water?
Well, how do you do kind sir?
Why, Water, you can talk!
Well, how do you do kind sir?
Why, Water, you can ****!
Well, how do you do kind sir?
Why, Water, you can dance!
Well, how do you do kind sir?
Why, Water, you can prance!
Do you like my clocks on the walls?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
How about my filaments in your head?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
How about the nightmares we've had?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
How about the wettings in bed?
Drip, drop ~ drip, drop
Welcome,
Welcome,
Welcome,
To the Dead!

Drip, drip, drip, drip...
*Drop
Matthew Rowe Aug 2010
Drip, Drop, Drip Drop,
The bucket sloshes,
The old woman kneels
To clean the threshold
of the ones she serves

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop,
The bucket sloshes
She thinks on her past
And her life and her hopes
her dreams, her last
husband long gone
her friends who’ve been near
her enemies who’ve hurt her,
those she holds dear

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop
The bucket sloshes,
She washes away
She sets herself to work
and begins to pray

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop
The bucket sloshes,
As she moves down the hall
Her heart, it labors,
as she scrubs at the floor
the billows of her breath
begin to bore
into her hands
she can work no more
she needs a small break
to labor without work

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop
She weeps for those who have not drawn near,
For those who are hurting, and lonely, and fear
She will stay forever, in her master’s doorway,
She would rather die, than never have stayed

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop,
The bucket sloshes,
her made clean heart aches,
is comforted by
a sovereign king’s ways
trials and terrors and toil and sin
good he has planned,
don’t let uncertainty win

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop,
The bucket sloshes,
She goes back to work
To labor and love,
The last to the first
Ps. 84:10-12
Josh May 2013
The caricature of a drip.
Defining in it the sum of a short existence. A life.
Wet and alive and pendulously hanging.
I stare up from the caged depths, my eyes eagerly alive
as it drips down in a cascading spiral
less destructively than I have dripped.
A drip to know and to watch like the T.V. (that's never off).
To see the freedom in its fall.
But once dripped, dies alone. Ripped out.
Disconnected from the unsurviving cloud.
Unpoured, it seems, I murmer out loud.

I watch another drip. My reflection watches back, I'm sure.
I wish for it to break, so I can close my eyes
and hold, for a moment, a friend. A life.  
And to feel the dependence of the drip's lullaby.

Does nothing more than a drip make sense?
I gasp as they escort my back.
And does it listen when I tell it of my life
before it drips out of me like freedom in fashionable attire?
Redder than the red-lipped mouth of a liar
concerned with "family matters" and saying "sign here".
Lies that drip out of them like foolish wars.
Or the painted affections for a newborn child.
Oh such terribly dreadful dripful lies they are.

Down. Down. Down.

I'll fall down the endless corridor away from them all.
And drip beneath the cementum cracks of the floor.
I'll hide with my drip.
I'll drip with my drip.
I'll sip it a bit. Bitter, but I sleep better, I think as I slip away.

Drip. Drip. Drip.
Even after I'm gone.
Port Rose Oct 2013
Drip drip drip
want and plan and
prepare and wait,
overthinking can get you far,
into insanity

moving so fast theres too much to do,
so little time, so what do you do?

nothing

how long has it been
i cant figure out time
i cant figure out me
or the cheat cods to live right,
and im frustrated i can't finish
too many thoughts in too little time

all this and the next drop hasnt even fallen yet

drip
oh there
drip drip drip
a.n.- i know it doesnt make much sense, kind of composed hastily you see, trying to jot down thoughts in real time, i supposed the drops could be a unit to measure the time, hopefully it will come across the way it was intended
Shin Aug 2015
There was a howl, as the faucet began to drip drip drip, and the creaks of a house built too long ago stretched her weary bones as the faucet proceeded to drip drip drip, and a man and a woman held on tight, this memory being just a glimpse, as the faucet kept up its drip drip drip, and a child cried as his toe was stubbed, and still the faucet dripped dripped dripped, and the family fixed it, and so it stopped, and grey was in season as the winter grew near, and the house was empty, and the family was gone, and yet the faucet again began to drip drip drip.
Please master can I touch your cheeck
please master can I kneel at  your feet
please master can I loosen your blue pants
please master can I gaze at your golden haired belly
please master can I have your thighs bare to my eyes
please master can I take off my clothes below your chair
please master can I can I kiss your ankles and soul
please master can I touch lips to your hard muscle hairless thigh
please master can I lay my ear pressed to your stomach
please master can I wrap my arms around your white ***
please master can I lick your groin gurled with blond soft fur
please master can I touch my tongue to your rosy *******
please master may I pass my face to your *****,
please master order me down on the floor,
please master tell me to lick your thick shaft
please master put your rough hands on my bald hairy skull
please master press my mouth to your *****-heart
please master press my face into your belly, pull me slowly strong thumbed
till your dumb hardness fills my throat to the base
till I swallow and taste your delicate flesh-hot ***** barrel veined Please
Mater push my shoulders away and stare in my eyes, & make me bend over
        the table
please master grab my thighs and lift my *** to your waist
please master your hand's rough stroke on my neck your palm down to my
        backside
please master push me, my feet on chairs, till my hole feels the breath of
        your spit and your thumb stroke
please master make my say Please Master **** me now Please
Master grease my ***** and hairmouth with sweet vaselines
please master stroke your shaft with white creams
please master touch your **** head to my wrinkled self-hole
please master push it in gently, your elbows enwrapped round my breast
your arms passing down to my belly, my ***** you touch w/ your fingers
please master shove it in me a little, a little, a little,
please master sink your droor thing down my behind
& please master make me wiggle my rear to eat up the ***** trunk
till my asshalfs cuddle your thighs, my back bent over,
till I'm alone sticking out, your sword stuck throbbing in me
please master pull out and slowly roll onto the bottom
please master lunge it again, and withdraw the tip
please please master **** me again with your self, please **** me Please
Master drive down till it hurts me the softness the
Softness please master make love to my ***, give body to center, & **** me
        for good like a girl,
tenderly clasp me please master I take me to thee,
& drive in my belly your selfsame sweet heat-rood
you fingered in solitude Denver or Brooklyn or ****** in a maiden in Paris
        carlots
please master drive me thy vehicle, body of love drops, sweat ****
body of tenderness, Give me your dogh **** faster
please master make me go moan on the table
Go moan O please master do **** me like that
in your rhythm thrill-plunge & pull-back-bounce & push down
till I loosen my ******* a dog on the table yelping with terror delight to be
        loved
Please master call me a dog, an *** beast, a wet *******,
& **** me more violent, my eyes hid with your palms round my skull
& plunge down in a brutal hard lash thru soft drip-fish
& throb thru five seconds to spurt out your ***** heat
over & over, bamming it in while I cry out your name I do love you
please Master.

                                        May 1968
Sato Jan 2021
Age five I never tripped
Never got hurt
No bone broken
They gave me bandages anyway
I could see their bandages
Underneath every shirt
Tik tik tik
Age 10 a knife was stuck into my chest
Drip
Drip
Drip
But no one else saw the blood
Only the knife through my lungs
I couldn’t breathe
They gave me a bandage and told me
That’s life
I could see theirs bandaged chests
There was no blood on them
Tik tik tik
Age twelve I went outside
My pockets filled with spare bandages
Had to be prepared for the cuts to bleed through
A man I had never seen before told me
You don’t need those bandages anymore
He ripped off the cloth covering my scrapes
Only a bead of blood trickled out
I didn’t know why he did it
Tik tik tik
I see him again
He tells me
You don’t need those bandages anymore
I take them off
The **** on my chest
Still bleeding profusely
A small cut near my thigh
Drip
Drip
Drip
His own blood stained bandages covered his eyes
His body sticky from the blood the wound caused
I think he needs a doctor
Tik tik tik
I see him
Again
Again
Again
I bandage myself more
Only to rip it off when I see him
Drip
Drip
Drip
My chest is soaked
I think I need a doctor
Tik tik tik
Age fifteen I hadn’t seen him in years
But he was there when anyone spoke
Too many bandages
Not enough space
Too much blood
Drip
Drip
Drip
Tik tik tik
In two months time I saw a man I had known for many years
You need another bandage. I can see your cuts
I think his eyes are damaged
I can see the blood coming through
I think he needs a doctor
J Mar 2018
Drip
drip
drip,
the water droplets,
on the old claw foot bathtub,
with the rusted pipes,
drip
drip
drip,
echoing through the room,
like a voice,
or a heartbeat,
drip
drip
drip
the hallway is empty,
the old stone house,
like a memory,
drip
drip
drip,
and the water is lukewarm,
always.
Rockie Dec 2014
Drip...

The ice melts and drips

Onto withered, frosty grass

Drip...

The ice falls onto

Dead flowers that have no hope

Of ever living again

Drip...

Fingers snapping off

Bits of the ice

That drips onto their thin gloves

Drip...

That sad little sound

That's feeble and painful

To hear after the Christmas parties

That

Drip...

With more fake pretences

Of over exaggerated happiness

And joy

Drip...

Drip...

Drip...
call it the greenhouse effect or whatever
but it just doesn't rain like it used to.
I particularly remember the rains of the
depression era.
there wasn't any money but there was
plenty of rain.
it wouldn't rain for just a night or
a day,
it would RAIN for 7 days and 7
nights
and in Los Angeles the storm drains
weren't built to carry off taht much
water
and the rain came down THICK and
MEAN and
STEADY
and you HEARD it banging against
the roofs and into the ground
waterfalls of it came down
from roofs
and there was HAIL
big ROCKS OF ICE
bombing
exploding smashing into things
and the rain
just wouldn't
STOP
and all the roofs leaked-
dishpans,
cooking pots
were placed all about;
they dripped loudly
and had to be emptied
again and
again.
the rain came up over the street curbings,
across the lawns, climbed up the steps and
entered the houses.
there were mops and bathroom towels,
and the rain often came up through the
toilets:bubbling, brown, crazy,whirling,
and all the old cars stood in the streets,
cars that had problems starting on a
sunny day,
and the jobless men stood
looking out the windows
at the old machines dying
like living things out there.
the jobless men,
failures in a failing time
were imprisoned in their houses with their
wives and children
and their
pets.
the pets refused to go out
and left their waste in
strange places.
the jobless men went mad
confined with
their once beautiful wives.
there were terrible arguments
as notices of foreclosure
fell into the mailbox.
rain and hail, cans of beans,
bread without butter;fried
eggs, boiled eggs, poached
eggs; peanut butter
sandwiches, and an invisible
chicken in every ***.
my father, never a good man
at best, beat my mother
when it rained
as I threw myself
between them,
the legs, the knees, the
screams
until they
seperated.
"I'll **** you," I screamed
at him. "You hit her again
and I'll **** you!"
"Get that son-of-a-*******
kid out of here!"
"no, Henry, you stay with
your mother!"
all the households were under
seige but I believe that ours
held more terror than the
average.
and at night
as we attempted to sleep
the rains still came down
and it was in bed
in the dark
watching the moon against
the scarred window
so bravely
holding out
most of the rain,
I thought of Noah and the
Ark
and I thought, it has come
again.
we all thought
that.
and then, at once, it would
stop.
and it always seemed to
stop
around 5 or 6 a.m.,
peaceful then,
but not an exact silence
because things continued to
drip
  drip
    drip
  

and there was no smog then
and by 8 a.m.
there was a
blazing yellow sunlight,
Van Gogh yellow-
crazy, blinding!
and then
the roof drains
relieved of the rush of
water
began to expand in the warmth:
PANG!PANG!PANG!
and everybody got up and looked outside
and there were all the lawns
still soaked
greener than green will ever
be
and there were birds
on the lawn
CHIRPING like mad,
they hadn't eaten decently
for 7 days and 7 nights
and they were weary of
berries
and
they waited as the worms
rose to the top,
half drowned worms.
the birds plucked them
up
and gobbled them
down;there were
blackbirds and sparrows.
the blackbirds tried to
drive the sparrows off
but the sparrows,
maddened with hunger,
smaller and quicker,
got their
due.
the men stood on their porches
smoking cigarettes,
now knowing
they'd have to go out
there
to look for that job
that probably wasn't
there, to start that car
that probably wouldn't
start.
and the once beautiful
wives
stood in their bathrooms
combing their hair,
applying makeup,
trying to put their world back
together again,
trying to forget that
awful sadness that
gripped them,
wondering what they could
fix for
breakfast.
and on the radio
we were told that
school was now
open.
and
soon
there I was
on the way to school,
massive puddles in the
street,
the sun like a new
world,
my parents back in that
house,
I arrived at my classroom
on time.
Mrs. Sorenson greeted us
with, "we won't have our
usual recess, the grounds
are too wet."
"AW!" most of the boys
went.
"but we are going to do
something special at
recess," she went on,
"and it will be
fun!"
well, we all wondered
what that would
be
and the two hour wait
seemed a long time
as Mrs.Sorenson
went about
teaching her
lessons.
I looked at the little
girls, they looked so
pretty and clean and
alert,
they sat still and
straight
and their hair was
beautiful
in the California
sunshine.
the the recess bells rang
and we all waited for the
fun.
then Mrs. Sorenson told us:
"now, what we are going to
do is we are going to tell
each other what we did
during the rainstorm!
we'll begin in the front row
and go right around!
now, Michael, you're first!. . ."
well, we all began to tell
our stories, Michael began
and it went on and on,
and soon we realized that
we were all lying, not
exactly lying but mostly
lying and some of the boys
began to snicker and some
of the girls began to give
them ***** looks and
Mrs.Sorenson said,
"all right! I demand a
modicum of silence
here!
I am interested in what
you did
during the rainstorm
even if you
aren't!"
so we had to tell our
stories and they were
stories.
one girl said that
when the rainbow first
came
she saw God's face
at the end of it.
only she didn't say which end.
one boy said he stuck
his fishing pole
out the window
and caught a little
fish
and fed it to his
cat.
almost everybody told
a lie.
the truth was just
too awful and
embarassing to tell.
then the bell rang
and recess was
over.
"thank you," said Mrs.
Sorenson, "that was very
nice.
and tomorrow the grounds
will be dry
and we will put them
to use
again."
most of the boys
cheered
and the little girls
sat very straight and
still,
looking so pretty and
clean and
alert,
their hair beautiful in a sunshine that
the world might never see
again.
and
Nimbus Mar 2018
I can no longer hide
My soul ignited

once disparaged
I long to share it

The chills in my spine put into words

Lips on skin
Eyes filled with sin

What is this sensation

I drip colors you cannot see

Heightening my passion
Enhancing my touch

Raw emotion channeled as such

My desire aches
The color of flush
My cage breaks
Expressions of lust

I do not fear it
I can hear you blush

My favorite sound

Our souls combust
My restless soul longs for something fulfilling
Robyn Neymour Nov 2009
I sense it,  
I can feel its mist.
Thunder begins to roll.
Lighting begins to flash.
“Drip Drop”
Now I can hear it.
Where already there,
Where getting into it.
“Drip Drop”
Comes closer to me,
Taking away my every breathe
Begins to pick up the speed
“Drip Drop”
We begin to intertwine,
I begin to lose control of my mind
All of a Sudden
“Drip Drop”
Realises my struggle
Begins slow down
Understand me,
So it slows down.
“Drip Drop”
Please I beg take me away,
I fell in love with you,
Please don’t go away.
“Drip Drop”
It stayed and waited,
Until I fell asleep,
Falling into a subliminal state.
“Drip Drop”
I woke up,
Only to remember its sound,
Never looked once upon its face.
“Drip Drop”
© RGN 19 Nov. 2009
Mortuus Odio Mar 2014
Drip drop
One tear two tear
Drip drop
One puddle two puddle
This **** is getting old
Tears falling on the inside of my face
Too shy to show their face
Yet the reopened scars on my wrist
Dance nakedly in public
Drip drop
My tears drip
Into the depths of my throat
The feelings all but pleasant
Choaking and coughing
Of every one that pelts my trachea
Drip drop
My blood drops
Creating puddle after puddle
I'm afraid to even look at my feet
Because I know their all overflowing
They say blood is thicker than water
Yet they dance so elegantly together
When their the ones that are drowning me
All because I'm afraid you'll say its my time to go
Pack up my **** and hit the road
Drip drop
It's kind of annoying
I'm glad I only have a few seconds left
Till the facet in my veins and tear ducts
Finally close themselves
Or the water company realizes I'm not paying the bill
I don't know what's up with depressing poems all of a sudden
Enigmatic Puppet Jan 2018
The embrace of the Sun doth make Icarus’ wings melt.
Drip drop, pit pat.
Forgotten dreams, fallen wings
Fading into nothingness as the two embrace
Broken hearts, torn feathers
The tale of the star-crossed

Icarus, bundle of joy
Overflowing with innocence
Soaring through the air
And with him
Freedom and happiness
And the ability to lie

Sun stood. Prideful, strong, bright.
Lonely.
She yearned for another
With whom she could share
Her light and warmth
Her darkness and coldness.

He desired nothing more than the company of another
She desired nothing more than the company of another

So Icarus said to the Sun
Let me stay, I won’t leave you
This place is right where I need to be
And though Sun knew
The embrace of Sun, will make Icarus’ wings melt
But she kept silent, and nodded.

The two were happy for a long while
-Drip drop, pit pat-
so very happy together
-Drip drop, pit pat-
never wanting to let go
-Drip drop, pit pat-

Drip drop, pit pat
Drip
Drop
Pit
Pat
Drip

Waxy tears coating his disappearing surface
Waxy tears lining her marooned surface

The embrace of the Sun doth make Icarus melt.
Drip drop, pit pat.
Forgotten dreams, fallen wings
She faded into nothingness as he melted away
Broken hearts, torn feathers
Never seeing the light of day

Never seeing, the light of day.
Romantic drabble
Kat Herondale Feb 2015
Drip.
I Stare Down At The Ground.
Drip.
My Eyes Are Tempted To Drift Towards You,
But I Know Better.
Drip.
My Eyes Jump To The Loud Noise,
In This Silent Room.
Drip.
I Stand Silently, Walking Towards The Noise.
DRIP.
I Spin Around- Only To See You,
Hanging From The Rafters,
Motionless.
I Shut My Eyes,
My Head Screaming To Pull You Down And Scream Until You Wake,
But I Know It Shall Never Work.
Drip.
You Have Perished,
A Silent Tear Making It's Way Down My Face.
Drip.
I Fall To The Ground, Crying Softly,
You Claimed You Where Okay,
Not That I Should Have Cared For My Kidnapper.
Drip.
Or My ******.
But What Can I Say,
It's A Case Of Being A Misanthrope.
I Love Him.
I Love Him.
I Love Him.
Your So **** Selfish.
Waiting Till I Loved You With All My Heart,
To End It All.
I'll Never Forget,
My Case Of Being A Misanthrope.
Drip.*
~ Kat Herondale.
;)
Styles Dec 2018
As you lay there short hair deep eyes wide hips parted wide
*** on my breath hunger in your eyes
fingers digging in the deeper my
tongue glides
kissing your lips
while my ears
touch
your
inner
thighs
the  
warmth
of my stroke
warms your insides
contact drunk from our vibes
rolling my tongue over your prize
gliding my lips against your thighs
three fingers slips one finger slides
the taste of your flavor is divine
touching your lips with mine
small of your back inclines
the sensations divine
goosebumps for a trail
my fingers follow
the lines:
Drip
ahmo Apr 2015
Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

A
bone
slowly
woke
just
in
time
to
become
br­ok(en).
Once spoken,
there's no point
of lending an ear.
There'll be a violent
jerking of the wheel,
deceptive *** appeal,
and an unrequited (love).
Now, unwillingly,  it's open.
The rhyme is deliberately late,
but it's not tardy enough to satiate
Swelling lungs-we're just getting started.
Both for respiratory and broken-hearted.
Here, we speak of energy-specifically kinetic
Because you can't live in love and good faith
with right hemisphere real, and left prosthetic.
AND THAT'S WHERE THIS BEAUTIFULLY KICKS IN.
Picking up faster and quicker and clearer
and headlights have never come nearer.
But I'll be somewhat content lying at rest.
While lively and enthusiastic is best,
unemployed potential is all I can be.
It's something to unwillingly see.
You'll watch the clean breaks
as the marrow escapes.
As I steadily gush
onto pavement
you'll see
how
idle
I
can
really
be.
As
I

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.
Kataleya Aug 2014
Drip drop tear.
The darkness nears.
Your demons are here.
Drip drop tear.

Drip drop tear.
The shadow leers.
Your pain is your peer.
Drip drop tear.

Drip drop tear.
The heart no longer bears.
Death smells of fear.
Drip drop tear.


©Aastha

— The End —