the-dreamy-poet

[the-dreamy-poet]

[the-dreamy-poet]

The Young

The young are not young anymore.

The young do not know how to enjoy their childhood.

The young will never understand life without drama or heartache.

The young are not innocent anymore.

What happened to laughing without any worries?

What happened to playing in the sunshine for hours?

What happened to imaging fake worlds?

What happened to growing up too slowly?

#it's so sad how the younger generation won't know what mine did #poet #poetlr #original poetry #poetic #short poetry

[the-dreamy-poet]

Fly Away From Home

I've flown the nest.

I'm no longer in the forest I was raised in.

I need to make my own way in the world.

I will struggle, but I will be able to fly on my own one day.

I won't always be happy, but my will be my own.

I'm glad I'll be making my own journey to a new nest.

Thank you for letting me fly away.

#poet #poetlr #short poetry #original poetry #free verse poetry

[the-dreamy-poet]

Studying

I'm

I'm trying

I'm trying to

I'm trying to find

I'm trying to find motivation

I'm trying to find motivation to

I'm trying to find motivation to actually

I'm trying to find motivation to actually study

I'm trying to find motivation to actually study because

I'm trying to find motivation to actually study because dreams.

#short poetry #new format #poetry #poetlr #poems on tumblr

[the-dreamy-poet]

“When was the last time you felt safe?”

I sat there has open as I stared at my phone about this question from a complete stranger.

When was the last time I felt safe?

I carry through my days jaw clenched and shoulders tensed, ready to flee at sudden notice.

When was the last time I felt safe?

I repeat as I crawl into my mountain of soft blankets and squishmellows,

When was the last time I felt safe?

The last time I was cared for gently. The last time I could breathe without worry, when there were comforting scents wafting through the air instead of exhaust and sewage.

Back when there were soft voices and melodies playing around to dance too,

Not doors slamming and screaming matches.

Back when I laugh my way to sleep in nothing softness and the smell of vanilla batter and lavender.

When was the last time I felt safe?

I couldn’t tell you the exactly, but I remember all so fondly.

- A. Nicole. M

[the-dreamy-poet]

suddenly remembered this poem as i was making breakfast this morning & frantically googled “poem remembered to buy eggs?????????” & somehow managed to find it & it utterly knocked the wind out of me just as much as when i first read it

[the-dreamy-poet]

Congested

These lungs Are a falling star On which my breath Keeps wishing Some pleasant dream May find me As this final light Will fade

Before what hope Should pass As grief sticks hard Like mucus Within this chest Congested From inhaling fear So long -

That hurt Most lives won’t face Or convey through verse Too anxious For sensible jobs And safeties I never could stand Very much.

The room is dark While waiting Each day now Suffering dimness Where silence sits Near windows Left shuttered Since sadness persists,

Beyond new suns Come morning While its promises Age every evening Reminding us Time grows inspired Only if pain Edges close.

Nothing can save Filling airways Begging their God Offer voices One last chance At expressions Eagerly told Before death -

Left behind But somehow awake Despite such sleep Consuming More fleeting thoughts Than expected Though worrying now Over words,

Those gasping lines They forget Were ever your own After passing But ignoring truth When it’s written Still immortal Yet misunderstood.

       ⁃       J. Pigno

[the-dreamy-poet]

I wish ...

Thoughts the shape of shadows Chase me through the painted sky And you fall like pencilled moonlight A ghost of the copper moon, smiling

I have forgotten the language we spoke These words like open windows of hearts, These words like coins that fall in wishing wells Of time, round and bright and worthless.

Weightless on my lips but for the sinking.

© SoulReserve 2021

[the-dreamy-poet]

Truth or lies

What do you choose in life ?

Some people prefer to be blind

So they won't be hurt by reality

But that's what keeps them back in life

Sometimes it's too late

When they finally realize it

So be careful

Of what you choose

Cause choices

Always are followed by consequences

One choice can create

A big positive change

And another

Can cause a lot of pain

[the-dreamy-poet]

I want it to snow here

I want it to snow here.

Come November,

the degrees dip,

cold reaches out it's arms,

Like a child trying,

To reach the topmost shelf,

Inching towards it as the days pass by.

Cozy comfort enters vogue,

hands gloved, ears muffed,

every breath whispers,

ghosts of a summer forgotten,

maybe the water by the windowsill,

freezes over,

and icicles droop down,

to catch sunlight on their fingertips.

The sky an opalescent,

pearl white, promising,

of snow and hail,

but it never does snow here,

sun bites the reddened skin,

on the tip of a child's nose,

and huddled roadsiders,

that inch closer to the fire.

I would love for it to snow,

They say it cleanses everything,

oh to see little fluffs of heaven,

take up these ravaged streets,

and sprinkle this town unevenly,

as we sit and stare,

from the comfort of our warm homes.

But then I am reminded,

Of those that live on the streets,

Who run when it rains heavily,

Now would have nothing to save them,

No food, or heat or help,

So I set back down my selfishness,

And think of ways I could help,

the impoverished instead,

so we can all enjoy the bliss of winters,

from the comforts of our lives,

because I still want it to snow here.

- B

[the-dreamy-poet]

image: Fairy land scenery wallpaper | World wallpaper, Dream night, Another world

Let me know what you think and pass the thought along my lovelies 🌌.

[the-dreamy-poet]

Writer’s Block

[the-dreamy-poet]

UNTITLED: A POEM

(TW: self harm, depression, drowning, suicide implication)

helloo i havent been as active on here as i want to be so i decided to post this poem that i posted on my instagram a while ago and for some reason haven’t gotten around to posting on tumblr until now.

transcript & taglist under the cut.

UNTITLED

you buried your sadness in the back garden but it still shrapnels you through the soil. your stare is watered-down & nobody is afraid of you anymore. most nights the moon is just a slice in the sky where sunlight gurgles through but other nights it is its own source of darkness. you cry & mutter i am built for this i am built for this but you never find out if that’s true. you have the stare of a sea-turtle so don’t swim out too far. you have the perfect lungs for water so breathe a little deeper. sometimes you call 911 just to convince yourself there’s something wrong, but always hang up before they answer the phone. sometimes you call unknown phone numbers just to say you wish you were as anonymous as they are. no one ever calls back.

you buried your sadness in the chlorine swimming pool but it still steeps the air in colours & clots on your bones. it’s like a piano strapped to your back but the only song it plays is shame & old church hymns you’ve been trying to get out of your head. you sing your favourite song from when you were ten & forget half the words & think if only this was enough.. if you could travel back in time you wouldn’t. if you could go to the moon you wouldn’t. if you could become a deep-sea creature you would do it only to feel at home in a place you were always afraid of. you sit on the roof daily to feel sunrays spilling on your skin & it still fails to set you on fire. you’d do it yourself if only you had a lighter. sometimes you hold your wrist to a candle flame & wonder if you’d make a good fire-eater. it would hurt so much maybe it would help. you always pull away right before you touch the flame.

you buried your sadness in the linen closet but now it clings to your bedsheets. now it stings your mouth while you sleep & infects your lungs. you’ve been inhaling too much water, the doctor tells you. you’re diagnosed with a scientific word you can’t pronounce. you’re offered help but you toss your prescription in the garbage & pretend to forget about the pills. nothing will help now & maybe you should have been a sea-turtle. your stare is hardened like marble & people avoid eye contact now. you tell them please don’t take my silence as an invitation to leave. sometimes you want to drown & sometimes you want to learn to swim. sometimes you want to set yourself on fire & sometimes you wonder if even flames will hurt you now.

taglist (ask to be added/removed): @gracestowewriting @flip-phones @shaelinwrites @chewingthescenery @august-iswriting @dallonm @wildswrites @nodeadnarrators @annlillyjose @shaonharryandpannisim @letsgetsquiggly @strangerays @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @teaandtypewriters @kahaaniyaa @coffeeandcalligraphy @47crayons @writing-is-a-martial-art @familiarvillain @bookdragonfanish @childhoodlovers @zoya-writes @pepperdee @oceancold @unorganisedbookshelf @finch-goes-tweet @anotherwannabenovelist @sunstone-iolite @musingsbycaitlin @femmeniism @raywritesstories

[the-dreamy-poet]

I Am Too Alone in the World, and Not Alone Enough

by Rainer Maria Rilke

I am too alone in the world, and not alone enough to make every minute holy. I am too tiny in this world, and not tiny enough just to lie before you like a thing, shrewd and secretive. I want my own will, and I want simply to be with my will, as it goes toward action, and in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times when something is coming near, I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone. I want to be a mirror for your whole body, and I never want to be blind, or to be too old to hold up your heavy and swaying picture. I want to unfold. I don’t want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie. And I want my grasp of things true before you. I want to describe myself like a painting that I looked at closely for a long time, like a saying that I finally understood, like the pitcher I use every day, like the face of my mother, like a ship that took me safely through the wildest storm of all.

#i feel this so much right now

[the-dreamy-poet]

All the voices you hear

Some are fake

And some are real

Pay attention to everything you see

This illusion can take you away

From your destiny

Be prepared and always ready

Never let distractions ruin your peace

[the-dreamy-poet]

Full credits to the author cause holy cow I felt that!!!

Untitled

I often feel like a fraud

in the midst of the emotions that conjure in the depths of my chest.

As if they're all for nothing, borderline narcissism threatens my mind

any time I feel the least bit ingenuine.

But in the same carriage of naive feeling,

this fraud that resides in my mind

awaits imperfect timing

much like the volcano beneath Yellowstone park,

ready to blow any second,

any indication of an offset motion,

a problem I cannot solve,

a joke I don't understand.

I feel so alone in this incompetency,

like I'm a prophet of nuanced forgiveness,

time and time again.

How many times can they forgive my mistakes

until this embodied loneliness manifests physically?

How many times must I contemplate my every word,

toss each thought through the roundabout ferris wheel of second guessing

before filtered with careful vernacular?

How many times do I miss the sign of affection for me,

in another's eyes,

through my own entangled mess of self-deprecation?

I often feel like a fraud.

Who will they write about

if I am not present in my feelings?

Who are they to see

if I cannot actualize my mortality, riddled on my face in such a way that shows I care?

Who will they remember

if I am not so sure I want to remember myself?

A wave of the hand,

rolling my eyes

at the happenstance of any legacy I might carry.

Even if your feelings are misplaced,

surely someone would notice—

then again, they'd have to be watching.

I'm overthinking again.

- j.p.

[the-dreamy-poet]

Full credits to the original poet! This is amazing!

Old friends come back in another planet's shade

(am I making this less relatable

by talking about mercury retrograde?),

and I'm shaking their hands like I didn't know

there's no one left for me to transform into;

now there's me, and me, and me,

and please, fuck me over, so I have a reason

to turn into anyone

but me.

Transform, and transform, I just want to rest

without the weight of the world on my back

and in my hands, and a sick turn

in my stomach;

transform and transform, and I let

the grip loosen from my hands,

time and time again,

before I slide back.

Holding keys in my shivering fingers,

stop locking me out

before I lock myself up;

it really wasn't easy to be

anyone but me,

so why is it so hard to be

not anyone, but me?