Jun 19
sophie.d's picture

Flower crown

I have 17 flowers on my head
For each of the 16 years I've lived
and one for the year that is to be.

Some are shriveled up by now,
or may I say preserved 
In their barest, waterless state.
Rosy pigmentation wiped away
a quilt of black and white photographs.

Those middle years have retained
structure, color, and a bit of spring
One can dive in and still imagine
the fullness of the year.

As for the most recent
Bees still dip in and out collecting
sweet, dripping nectar
Tails brushing bright pollen memories. 

The tail end is adorned with a little button
of a peach pink bud
Which has only begun to peek
out of it's promising leathery shell.

All these flowers are
gently studded among a twisting vine
Woven into a graceful, but sturdy flower crown
Which can be found perched upon the tip of my head
at any time or place.

Jun 14
poem 2 comments challenge: General
LunaMoonBox's picture

O Lady of the Sea

It's dark and cold. Like the deepest emotion emitting from your lifeless body
The roaring waves crash on the forbidden horizon, with every beat and drum like the endless sound of thunder
Light can't reach the bottom as it pierces through watery graves.

The sun sinks down into the deep...and slowly slips into a dark slumber.
Out of all the things the sea finds floating in the water, 
She hears screams that echo through the blasting night.

They tried to hide her...
They tried to seduce her...
They tried to own her...
They wanted to drown her...

The boat was full of despair and lust for this girl.
But they knew she was everything they could never have.
The brick was tightly attached to her delicate ankle as the noose was pulling her down.
Her wrists swelled at the itchy rope digging in her pale skin.
Her blushed cheeks puffy with tears and abuse.

Nothing could save her now.
Jun 13
Mr. What a drag's picture


We must not give up 

Cause the world is not our home bus
and will lap us anytime. it will
not stop moving, no matter who 
you are

We must not give up

Cause we got dreams 
to feed, and they can 
not be fed by anybody else
except us the people who 
are going to accomplish them

We must not give up

Cause we must tell those
who dare to say that we can't
do it, that we can. 
and they must stop 
underestimating our will to fight,
or they are going to get it

We must not give up

Cause we are trapped in this game of life
and the only way out is to beat it.
But just so you know, we can't defeat this 
game with this low negative level of courage
we must keep moving, we must keep running
we must keep playing, we must keep getting up
we must not give up so we can rise as champions.
Audio download:
Jun 11

It Came

You were a pile of broken bones,
desperately crying for someone,
to put you back together.

You were a fly caught in a web,
trying to flee the black widow,
but she came one night.

You were a ghost in a window,
screaming for those inside to see,
but you were long gone.

You were a torn up photograph,
waiting for someone to repair you,
but you were beyond repair.

I was a farmer with the tools,
to revive your field of hopeless death,
I planted more and more.

No matter what I did to help,
it was never enough to save you.
I never thought you would do it,

but you threw away your bones,
let the black widow come,
broke through the window,
and set your image aflame.

Death is a calling,
and it came.
Jun 11

A Poem For The Girl Who Needs It

This poem is for the girl needs it.
To the girl who cries at night,
whispering her sorrows to the stars;
stitching a new smile for the next day.
Your bravery deserves a medal.

This poem is for the girl who feels numb.
To the girl who hurts to feel,
depression and hopelessness weighing her down;
making her think, "why even bother?"
You are strong, and I believe these moments pass
like each rippling wave.

for each girl who needs this,
you are important,
you are loved
you are not alone.
Jun 10

2:30am New York City

You like the way he wakes up.

Not at all 
and all at once.

bolt upright 
down the stairs 
out the door

Stars are like Suns 
when they fall to Earth.

He collides
and slips back to sleep.  

Jun 08
Lyra's picture

A lesson of the heart

A lesson that many miss out on, but are always hurt by, is the lesson that your heart is never your own.  From birth, your heart is taken by those who show you love and compassion, and you may never regain it. Hidden behind a glass wall, your heart sits awaiting a gentle hand accompanied by soft words. As you go through life, you allow others near your heart, and you can only sit and watch as they either care for your heart or hurt it in one way or another. The key of trust is given to those you care for, but when betrayed by that trust, your heart grows more and more callused. More and more scar tissue builds up with each stab and tear, causing the soft words and gentle hands of those who truly care to be unable to reach it. Soon enough, you give a key to some, but those few who enter and closely watched, and lashed out on when touching your heart.
Jun 08


My teacher thinks I'm strange
I love snow the way
some people love sun.

Snow feels good the way
icy lemonade in August
feels good.

Snow feels good the way
freshly brushed teeth
feel good.

Snow feels good the way
clean sheets just off the line
feel good.

Snow feels good the way
a never read before book
feels good.

Snow feels good the way
fun and happiness
feels good.
Jun 05

I Bought A Life

I bought a life online,
It shipped in two days,
I bought happiness from a doctor,
In the form of orange bottles,
I bought a friend from my mother,
I never see her anyway
And I sold it all to you,
In exchange for a beating. 
Jun 04
MusicLove81's picture

My first Ukulele

"Come on!" Jan yelled.
"Mmmhmmm" I pushed my blonde hair into a tight braid as I always do.
We headed down the street until we reached the park. Jan took a blind fold out of her pocket and carefully tied it over my eyes. "Jan! It's my birthday! Don't suffacate me! I'm not even 11 yet!"
between the bandanna I saw a small shiny grin from Jan's part. We walked down hrough the park until we reached the place. Jan pulled the cloth off and an uncontrolable smile spread across my face. In front of me was a picnic spread and blanket with a ukulele neatly placed in the middle. The uke was neon green (my favorite color) and it had a small yellow bow. "Jan....thank you" 
Jan smiled. We sat down and ate my favorite foods which consisted of Iced tea and fudge pops. I tried to strum my uke and Jan nodded when I got it right (at least she tried to know when it was right). I knew this was a day to remember. The day I got my first ukulele.
Jun 04
poem 3 comments challenge: General
haileychase's picture

If I Die In A School Shooting

​If I die in a school shooting,
politicize my death.
Fight for our safety,
turn my funeral into a protest.

If I die in a school shooting,
I will never play sports again.
My goals, my hopes, my dreams,
will all come to an end.

If I die in a school shooting,
battle until students and teachers are safe.
Don't let my death become a statistic,
help kids go to school unafraid.

If I die in a school shooting,
I will never become a doctor.
I will never graduate high school,
and my parents will no longer have a daughter.

If I die in a school shooting,
my little brother will become an only child.
Fight for all the lost lives,
and make change be required.

If I die in a school shooting,
turn my ashes into a book.
And write the story
of how my life should have looked.

If I die in a school shooting,
deliver my heart to the NRA
Jun 03

Child Delivery Service

Me and my wife are talking about having kids
but child birth is just so taxing
and the world is too overpopulated
this planet doesn’t need anymore humans
so we thought that a robot child would be better.
Scrolling through new products on amazon
there are many different choices
each one comes with a variety of interesting features
they are quite expensive
but I have a gift card, so it shouldn’t be too bad.
I made my choice, a girl droid, about 11 years old
it comes with an artificial memory chip
it won’t even know it’s a robot
so it will adjust to our new family very quickly.
In a couple weeks the parts will show up in the mail.
We’ll have to put it together ourselves.
Worth the effort, a perfect replica
It’ll be better than a real child.
Having kids is such a tiring commitment
but when you get tired of a robot kid,
you can just turn it off.
Doesn’t have to be fed either
May 30
poem 0 comments challenge: General

Too Soon

the last darkness
you left
too soon,
like the moon
behind a cloud.

May 28


not awake
just can’t sleep

standing at the edge of an ocean with two ropes around my chest
one to the beach
another to the sea

as i pull they tighten around my lungs
choked by decisions
no energy to do anything but resist.

i’ve been in this limbo for weeks
gasping for breath

the weekdays are draining
weeknights are plagued with caffeinated fatigue
lying in my bed pleading sleep to wash over me
but sleep likes to come early in the morning
giving me a few hours to scrutinize today and worry about tomorrow

i’m being shouted at to come back to the beach
but the cold ocean laps at my feet;

please let me breathe
May 27


May 27
MusicLove81's picture

Feels Right

Let the music
take you
to another
keep your
heart beating
eyes open
don't ever walk
just keep dreaming
keep moving
leaving pressure behind
lights gleaming
this feeling 
feels right
May 27


Her eyes softly close,
Her lips are red and bitten raw
From hours of debating with herself.
She runs a finger slowly over her bottom lip,
Trying to remember how he had felt.
The mirror she looks into reflects her image
but is cracked in places,
the kind of broken that isn't
The kind of broken that is
May 25
poem 0 comments challenge: General

Nos Faltan 43

Blood summers in the deep parts of mexico
are the reason I only visit in the spring.
They call them blood summers
because of how the air gets thick
and how the children get stolen.

I can either write or they can bleed
with the fragile heartbeats they have left.
Pain has always taken us for weak
and I am weak
so I write.

Sometimes they take them from school,
or from home, or from their father's arms.
And everyone is alone because
they don't get amber alerts.
Just death ones.

I can either write or they can cry
with leaking eyes we have yet to see with.
Memories gathered in the corners
dripping down our cheeks until we feel lonely
and I am lonely
so I write.

Have you seen the marches?
The charred paper with the faces etched in?
The billboards clustered on the highway?
The way they don't let go of their children?
May 23

Artisan Textiles

I’m obsessed with words,
scratching mental letters into threaded blue jeans,
squeaky wooden table tops,
barren midnight swaths of bed sheets soaked in ink:

A cloth woven on a mental loom,
frameworks of English threaded with fine threads of phrases,
each spun of intertwining tufts of verbage
dyed to minute vibrancy by the arrangement of 26 simple shapes.

The cloth often likens to a photograph, 
broken down to pixels,
numbered quantities of red, green, and blue.
The visual cloth of
symmetrical water or geometric fire:
Language of paradoxical symbolism,
existing in the Duat of expression at once
sliding in and out of focus with the earth.
A conceptualization of a pinch of the world.

Music is woven of many materials,
of flowing vibrations which conjure
engraved images of sparotic movement;
a soaring dance of invisible energy.
May 23

Handle With Care

People should come with signs,
'Loves very easily'
'Has trust issues'
Just so we know exactly what we're getting into.
'Will definitely fuck you over'
'Lies a lot'
Because if we try to blindly make friendships with people
it's only fair to understand each others flaws.
So we all have the ability to handle each other with care
if that is what is deserved.