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ginadope · 1 year

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new past

Let's write a new past Hang the other one upside down Afternoon sunshine will find herself In raindrops Spilled carelessly, red rubies Begin to dream of carefree waves There's no need, not anymore To ask about reasons They were never there, after all

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sike-n · 2 months

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A man walks into a bar

And asks the bartender for a drink

Put it in a glass or a human body either way they are one and the same

The man stands before the glass stands on the counter

His hands holds the glass holds his drink

Then the exchange

Mouth open the glass lets go of all that it is

Mouth open the man seeks to forget all that he is

Lets go of the glass

The glass tumbles

He stumbles

The glass falls

The man is down

Glass splinters glitter on the ground

Stars hidden by the man on the moon

Who has fallen off his throne

Not quite responds the bartender

As he sweeps what remains of the glass into a dust pan

And he commands the man to stand back up

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josy57 · 5 months

Video

youtube

Into the Dark and Away

When you've learnt by heart the patterns on the carpet The grain of the floorboards pressed flush against your cheek When you've grown sick of counting the dust motes Staring dazedly as they dance in the draft And collect under the dresser As so many discarded dreams When you’ve bored yourself numb and blind Stand up or perhaps crawl downstairs Sneak through the window, into the unlit dawn Light as a sigh, since no one is here to stop you Heavy as a sob, for no one is here to stop you. Through the garden, barefoot across the flower beds Bending the pliant necks of your mother's tulips Her ancient tabby cat, keeping watch from the parapet Wailing and whining, rasping its bitter refrain Won’t you wait, won’t you listen, Won’t you please try and understand You headstrong girl, You silly girl, You golden child But it’s too late for pleading, you’ve been halfway gone a long time So go for good, Go over the fence and into the fields Over the fence and away

Go and sleep under the willow tree Where its long fingers will trace its sorrow upon you There you might find rest and forget Forget the lonely sound of the leaking faucet Forget the unlived life And even your own name

When the alarm clock rings with echoes of school bells Tolling mercilessly, striking the hour When the chirping of birds turns to nasty singsong Twittering their teetering chant When you haven’t closed your eyes in weeks And yet morning still comes And yet duty calls, clamoring for another ounce of courage Another shred of surrender, another pound of your bloodless flesh Open the backdoor, let the radio fry itself hoarse Let the phone hang and cry its phony tune Let the gate slam behind you, swaying on screeching hinges The old house, full of ghosts, nagging and begging Look back, turn back, come back You stupid girl, You lovely girl, You small, small thing But there is nothing anymore you wouldn't dare Nothing now they can forbid You’ve been halfway gone a long time So go for good Go, into the dark and towards the forest Into the dark and away

Go and sleep under the walnut tree Where breath is rare but the slumber is deep There you might find rest and forget Forget the taste of bile of every family meal Forget the endless list of tasks And even the grudges you keep

When you are all out of time, of hope, of composure When you've crossed all the days, all the Ts Dotted the Is and scratched them out in every Christmas picture Spent the last of your restraint And turned all the dials on the stove Walk to the end of the driveway, to the end of the road The tar still sticky with the day’s heat The faces of the whole neighborhood, Peering through curtains and keyholes And that voice, sickly sweet, tugging at your sleeve Pinching your upper arm Telling you not to make a scene in public The crunching gravel, coaxing and cajoling Stay here, within reach Stay near, within sight Sit, stand, beg, play dead Stay, stay, stay You stubborn girl, You dear girl You odd duckling For once, let it fall onto deaf ears Go, through the thistle, through the thorns Following the cool rustle of rushing water You’ve been halfway gone a long time So go for good Go, beyond the bend and along the river Beyond the bend and away

Go and sleep under the manchineel tree Where every touch is seared and etched into your skin There too you must sit still as the world eats at you Each brush like the lash of a whip But, at least, here you can ponder in peace As patient as a boiling frog Your head busy and buzzing With thoughts sharper than a hornet's sting You may think and think and forget Forget the whistled scream of the hissing kettle Forget the many reasons for your rage And even the way home.

#youtube #writerscreed #inkstay #poetryriot #poetryportal #poeticstories #inspireamuse #writtenconsiderations #smittenbypoetry #savage-words #recognizingthevoiceless #writingthestorm #imperialreblogs #poetselixir #poetryclub13 #twcpoetry #spilled ink #poetry

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kirkshiresloss · 1 year

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Most nights I don't sleep. I'll catch 3 or 4 hours and be up again. Leaving one nightmare into another. Keep having the same dream everything is super white and crisp. I can hear the fake ass birds outside I can feel the warmth of your body beside me. I smell your hair and and doze back off but I never leave this dream everything goes black and I wake up to you rubbing my hands because they hurt. Likd when you rubbed them that one morning I remember thinking Justin please don't fuck this up because no one ever cared enough to do that for me. it's only a nightmare because I have to relive it and wake up to a reality where you and I are miles apart in more ways than one.

You never could sleep unless a part of you was touching me. Some nights I would crawl into bed just to make sure that you got sleep. And watching you sleep became a hobby of mine. And I can tell you where every hair on your head is supposed to be. I'd run my fingers over your skin. and I just knew I got you too soon.

Everything has this dull monochromatic look to it now. The paint doesn't coat the canvas & the colors don't blend like they used to. Even my brush strokes are desperate; pressing so hard I tend to rip the canvas apart. And it's always been so easy to leave at the slightest bit of discomfort but not this time. How could I leave someone who has given me so much and never asked for anything in return but my time and attention...

Like trying to recapture a moment.

Like lightning trapped in a bottle.

Like The Sun also rising and setting at the same time.

Feeling like every moment we've ever had is coursing through my veins and now i can't tell if I'm high or dying but baby it's almost too late to call it. If I could hand you the loaded gun I sure wish you'd pull the trigger on it all. I can't bring myself to do it.

I only write about it here because it has to have somewhere to belong. There is no more room inside of me to fit these memories. But I won't set them down...I won't ever set them down...

-kirkshiresloss

//dog in a manger//

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anarchistpoet · 2 months

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the end must die, eternally spent and

just there. nothing, just ... there.

the landscape shifts and changes but

those don't matter. it too shall change.

the inside is withdrawn and hope is the illusion of being

always fresh with new things coming and going and coming.

but that death is always there. always waiting and

never giving an inch.

the respite that comes with it, may yet be a pause

in the long conversations that i must have

with myself

as we sit together.

@twcpoetry

@poetselixir

@atlasconsiderations

@imperiallefty

@blotched-poems

@abstractcommunity

@teacup13

@imperialreblogs

@poeticstories

@poetryportal

@savage-words

@brokensoulsreborn

@poetryclub13

@recognizingthevoiceless

@bitsofstarglow

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#poems on tumblr #anarchistpoetry #poetryriot #poetry #spilled ink #vintage bollywood #ek doctor ki maut #writings #original #my poems #original poems #satzink

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chuckakot · 3 years

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I hope one day, you will find a home in someone's heart that not only chooses you, but may even give their time just to be with you, make an effort just to make you happy, defy the weather, even deprive their sleep or try something different just to show you how important you are in their life, because nothing or no one in this world has ever felt greater happiness, than to be with someone who appreciates you for being you. So, do it then. Do it now. That is your healthiest choice.

— Chuck Akot

#poetryportal #poeticstories #twcpoetry #spilled words #poetry #quotes #books and libraries #spilled ink #poems #prose #recognizingthevoicless #imperialreblogs #chuck akot #chuckakot

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writeblrcafe · 2 years

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Writeblr Café presents its second pop-up prompt! We want to inspire you to write by hosting more prompts. Look out for our pop-up prompts as well as prompt menus! You have 72 hours to write for the pop-up prompt, starting from the time the post has been posted. After 72 hours, the prompt expires.

Make yourself a cup of coffee, put down the book you are reading and get ready to write for our second pop-up prompt:

"There was a certain comfort to be found in predictability."

Thanks to our member @strawberrystarcake for coming up with this intriguing prompt. May it inspire you to write!

Tag your piece of writing with #wcprompt.

Make sure that #wcprompt is among your first 5 tags so we won’t miss your order. Don’t feel like posting it on your blog? No worries, submit your writing to the platform here. If you have any questions, feel free to send in an ask! We are encouraging all forms of writing but won’t reblog NSFW pieces.

Please reblog this prompt post to spread the word.

We are looking forward to reading your writing!

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lexiklecksi · 3 years

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Whispers

Can't find my way through the whispers,

That reverberate and pound,

Because whispered words about you,

Are of the loudest, harshest sound.

They ring about and echo,

In the caverns of your mind;

Silent, vicious words,

Are most hurtful and unkind.

Drown those words in music,

Blasting loudly from the speaker,

Silence the murmurs,

Don't fear the dreamer.

A voice rises above the whispers,

With the power bound,

Emerges from the cacophony, yet

Peace is nowhere to be found.

Ambrose Harte and Lexi

My fourth collaboration with @scatteredthoughts2 (his verses in cursive). It was a pleasure writing with you! Tag list under the cut.

Read our other poetry collabs here

Never miss a poem or a short story I wrote! Comment if you want to be added or removed from my tag list.

Tag list: @opes-magnas @dg-fragments @silversynthesis @heartofmuse @scatteredthoughts2 @rhapsodyinblue80 @alaskaisnothere @stoic-words @september-stardust @wordsforsadpeeps @writingitdown @intothevortex @aubriestar @rearviewphilosophy @silent-steals-the-night @warriorbookworm @raevenlywrites @alex-a-roman @artsymagee @giantrobocock @theheightofdepression @writing-is-a-martial-art @beautifulimposter25 @cirianne @stories-by-rie

#writtenconsiderations #writerscreed #poetryportal #poeticstories #brokensoulsreborn #inspireamuse #recognizingthevoiceless #imperialreblogs #abstractcommunity #poetry collab

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alaskaisnothere · 3 years

Quote

i. I get bored easily. I'm never satisfied, always looking for the next best thing that's gonna make me feel something. I'm never enough and people are never enough for me. ii. I feel too much. Even when I'm empty, I feel my bones trying to crawl out of my skin, looking for a body that's not so broken all the damn time. iii. I lie and get lied to often. I lie to be liked, I lie when I'm bored, I lie because it's natural and I lie because it's easy. iv. I always think there's something wrong with me, that I'm special because I've got all these flaws and all this pain, when the truth is that everyone is flawed. Everyone suffers in its own way and that's what brings out together and that's why I always try to be fake deep so people can feel something, so that I can feel something. v. I'm a fraud but I think you already got that.

alaskaisnothere

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jmsapphire · 2 years

Text

Forgive me for failing

Forgive me for trying

Forgive me for believing

Forgive me for denying

Forgive me for pushing

And forgive me for pulling

Forgive me for doing

And for doing nothing

Forgive me for the nuances

Of being me and being human

True, someone may have

Done it this way or that

But I'm not that someone

I'm this one asking for you to

Forgive me for being me

And I'll keep at it till

Breathing becomes

Less than forgiving.

- mirror mirror ; bedside lamp light, prayers and pleas

#writerscreedchallenge #poetry #poem #thoughts #inspireamuse #twcpoetry #illustrans #poetryportal #poets on poetry #smittenbypoetry #deadwatered #imperialreblogs

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differentkindsofghosts · 3 years

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Every morning, a new ache.

Sometimes shallow and fleeting,

Often deep and terrible.

Each night, I sink beneath the covers,

Heavy under the mounting stresses,

Some are old and scabbed over,

Picked and scratched until bloody,

Some new and ripe,

Plucked from the troubles of the day,

Sore, just the same.

#writtenconsiderations #writerscreed #poetryportal #poetryriot #13cupsofteareblog #imperialreblogs #twcpoetry #not a haiku #poem #poetry #short poem #short poetry #ache #stress #scabs

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ginadope · 1 year

Text

liquorice

It's time to visit The light of night again Another death, another face The now silver bullet This stolen hour With joy and darkness in the audience I want to look not in the mirror But at myself Step by step Gently Reach the door

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sike-n · 1 year

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i think of you when it rains

i think of you when i see angel numbers

i think of you when i see the colour blue

i think of you when i hear certain songs

many songs

every song

and i think of you when i see a stranger's smile

and i think of you when i do a random act of kindess

and i think of you when when i see winnie the pooh

and i think of you

i think of you

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josy57 · 2 years

Audio

Where I Went

Just yesterday, I stepped out of the train and onto the platform Immediately engulfed in holiday chatter But I don't have answers for the questions I'm asked I can say where I went, not where it took me How I was touched and, in fact, altered By things so small and momentous As uncommunicable as the emotion within a dream Or the exact quality of the light On a worry-worn day when you look up to the sky And feel peace wash over you like a sigh

Today, I'll have to unpack my suitcase and stock my kitchen shelves again Foreign to the person who did all those tasks in reverse Only a week ago I'll wander, lost in thought halfway down the supermarket aisles Clutching to me the unexplainable The yellow of your dress that morning in the lobby

How we smiled at each other across the dining hall You backlit and me dazzled In the bright orange glow of those July evenings The absolute kindness of that sharp, expressive face The warmth of that 'we' you used so readily Giving from yourself like someone who has never been torn

The arms you opened and laced around me How baffled, how enchanted, how shiny new you made me feel Scoured clean from the grime of the past twenty years Filth I had come to confuse with my own skin With something akin to fate

I am spending the rest of the summer back at my parents’ place Back in my hometown Where everyone is nice and certain they know me As though I could still fit in the backyard snow angels, The chalk outlines of my childhood Or the version of it they prefer to remember I’ll sit at the dinner table, I’ll grab coffee I’ll drift through the unavoidable rounds of friendly catch up Eyes fixed on a punch-drunk fly knocking against the window pane I’ll drone on, saying the expected strings of words, Same old, same old The recycled stories we always tell Stale and small The inch of common ground we can still claim As we sit in the car and I stop listening Suddenly sickened by that nickname they call me By that blinking neon sign over the corner shop That no one fixed since I was seventeen The syrupy languor of this place That settles around you like quick setting cement I’ll shift uncomfortably, my thighs sticking to the seat My mind miles away, tuning out all but the distant radio And the flickering of other images

How you danced with pure, untethered joy Your lithe, lean body Like the still thrumming string of a bow After the arrow is released A one-chord instrument that always strikes true Thumping with the elastic tug and snap of a rubber band Beating in rhythm with the thunderous boom of the bass That moved the walls around us

How we mouthed shards of songs, circling each other And spoke, loud and close Other the stampede of sound Your hand pressed to the damp curve of my back

The sweet boozy smell of your breath As I rested my chin on your shoulder

How you stood on tip toes to reach the tap behind the bar And poured me water into your own glass Still tasting of the zesty alcohol you'd ordered And of your lips against the rim That cool rush on my parched tongue As intimate as if lapped from the palm of your hand

I could say I’m confused If there were not such clarity, such crisp edges to those moments When, drunk off your infectious ease, I brushed against what it is like to inhabit the world To feel trust and kinship, both unspoken and undoubted

A few hours on, morning brought departure Yet the sliding doors that closed behind you did not sever the luminous tie It didn’t feel like a tearing, like the terror of loss I knew I would see you again I knew that, even if I did not, Nothing could tarnish or undo this heliotropic change And so, even after the goodbyes, even through the frenzy at the station This quiet, serene stillness lingered This sense of unfolding I sat on the sticky floor, in the miserable, crowded heat Far removed from the other travelers’ frustration, from my own bruised-eye fatigue Aloof and mellow, I looked at the sky through the glass ceiling Its sun falling slanted, pouring hope into me like a new breath I could feel where my tailbone connected with the concrete I could feel myself rooted there, embodied One amongst many, emmeshed but unmoored Somehow, after all these years more than the sum of the parts I’m missing I thought: I am here, I do not need to be told where to go Or who I am I do not need to fear or fret The train will come, sooner or later I will get home And home is not what I once believed it was Life may, after all, have more to offer than a long aftermath.

#writerscreed #inkstay #poetryriot #poetryportal #poeticstories #inspireamuse #writtenconsiderations #smittenbypoetry #savage-words #recognizingthevoiceless #wlw #writingthestorm #imperialreblogs #poetselixir #poetryclub13 #twcpoetry #spilled ink #poetry

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kirkshiresloss · 1 year

Text

Comes over me so swiftly

I haven't time to think.

I know I swore It off

but I really need a drink.

These decisions that I'm making

they ain't making any sense

but my hands start to shaking

when i speak of you in past tense

theres no one here to talk to

when im sitting all alone

I'd rather smash this bottle

and pick up a phone

but we need no melodrama

no audience to critique

when we both were born of trauma

Lovers sharing a karmic link

As im drowning in these feelings

I can feel you in my bones

Hell may not heal me

but even Hades needs a home.

-kirkshiresloss-

//Persephone//

@fadedawaywiththebreeze

#lostcore #dark academia #writerscreed #poeticstories #poetryportal #original writing #writtenundertheinfluence #writersconnection #missing you #lovecore #imperialreblogs #poetry reblog #goneahead reblog #poetrycommunity #deadwatered #poetry writing #writrblrcafe #writersociety #inkstainsandheartbeats

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chuckakot · 3 years

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And this simple act begins again— loving you, loving the other part of me that is you.

— Chuck Akot

#poetryportal #poeticstories #twcpoetry #spilled words #prose #poetry #quotes #books and libraries #spilled ink #poems #inspireamuse #imperialreblogs #recognizingthevoicless #bitsofstarglow #chuckakot #chuck akot

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