Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Apr 2014 Zanele Tlali
Kaitlin Collide
Poetry is that flutter in your heart
Poetry is when you finally get a start
Poetry is...... child birth
Poetry is your search for self-worth
Poetry is concrete, and the cracks within it
Poetry is what the DJ is spinning
Poetry revolutionary or cliche
Poetry is experienced day by day
Poetry is my scuffed up wood floor
Poetry it the newly-cleaned **** on my door
Poetry is the meeting, the breakup, and anticipation
Poetry is the person, the feeling, and the situation
Poetry is worked on, poetry is rushed
Poetry is neat, or grammar that's ****** up
Poetry is new or heard before
A million different ways, or possibly more
Poetry is heaven, poetry is hell
Poetry is nouns and symbols

Is poetry the words, the rhythms, or the feelings?
Or is it the process of personal heeling?
Poetry is all, poetry is a blanket
Poets are poetry and I'd like to thank them
For true poets know it's not a competition of words
But an embrace of the the different layers of worlds
that exist within one conscious being
and the makeup of things whether suppressive or freeing
or the concrete unemotional state of a thing
But even to a poet that leaves a ring
whether emotionally, or within the lack-of
(see concrete vs. crack, written above)
I don't know why I struggle so hard with writing right
because in the end it's not black or white
Instead poetry just IS with it's existence
It's up to you if it's poetry or if it isn't
A poem may be tacky, but that could be the twist
Poetry isn't vague, just has it's own way to exist
Shout-out to "Hello Poetry", we, poets stand united
It's a state of poetry whether or not you write it.
  Apr 2014 Zanele Tlali
Jordan Frances
I do not expect people to warm up to my work like a familiar friend. I don't write to form a lovey dovey bond with my reader. My writing purposefully makes people uncomfortable and causes them to question my sanity. It is supposed to be relatable to the darker side of human nature, and to cause people to look in the mirror and think I'm not really like that, am I? I am here to expose that life is not a folk tale, but the beholders can choose their own destiny. I am a strong believer in free will and that the power to change one's situation lies within a that person's grasp. Even when the circumstances are inevitable, the outcome is entirely up to that person. Perception is reality, and what someone believes about their life will become the way they go about living it. While I do write to uncover this beautiful, yet treacherous, side of human life, I mostly write about my own experiences. I have plenty of muses, whether they're people I love, hate or miss dearly. I do not write to impress anyone; poetry and prose are my catharses. I write to battle demons, win trials, keep myself humble and to give myself a little something to brag about. Essentially, I write for me.
  Apr 2014 Zanele Tlali
Manqoba
Caught up in a generation,
Where our strengths are attached to our egos
Caught up in a generation,
Where our insecurities are hidden behind the weaknesses of our hearts
Broken promises creates cuts in our memories,
And their scars are a reminder of who we no longer trust.

We run our mouths longer than we train our brains,
So we quickly get tired of our own thoughts
And the only source of hydration we seek is the validation of others.

Our tears are a reflection of how strong we wish we could be
We are haunted by our past,
And killed by our future
The present moment is the only time we are free.

Encouraged to be ourselves
Yet we are judged for being ourselves
Silenced into individuality,
Yet we scream for each other’s help.


Adolescents are rushed into growing up
And yet they fear growing old
We demand kindness and warmth
Yet our actions towards the ones who love us are cold.
  Apr 2014 Zanele Tlali
Juniper Deel
I'm softly holding on to nothing.
But that's ok cause because I don't want everyone to see; see beyond my anything but normal self. Because I'm oh so crazy and wild, and at heart I'm still just a child.
One
The world around me slows to a crawl,
No one around me knows me at all.
I look over the crowd of familiar faces,
From various times and different places.
They laugh and they play, one and another,
All with secret pains, I’m just like the others.
Next page