Jan 16

The Voice - January 2018

Jan 31


Standing in the classroom.
They’re all staring at you.
Glancing at each other.

Take a deep breath.
Everyone is ignoring you.
It’s okay.

Laying in your room at night.
Smelling smoke.
The room is cloudy.

Take a deep breath.
The house is not on fire, you're overreacting.
You’re okay.

Hearing the argument.
Louder and louder.
Jan 29
poem 1 comment challenge: Morning
Ambrogge's picture

Mockingbird song

It was a beautiful morning 
And nothing was wrong 
I woke up with that feeling
Like a mockingbird song 
So cheerful and uplifting 
I felt that today
Was going to be a good day 
One without troubles
One without doubts 
One without fears
I got up and got dressed 
I had breakfast and went to work
I got back and had dinner 
So far nothing 
spectacular had happened
the good feeling from the morning 
Jan 29
Della's picture



1) the lump in your throat that doesn’t quite turn into tears

Listening to my summer songs on shuffle

Like unfolding a towel that still smells like the sea

Polaroid photos tacked to the wall

Cheap plastic sunglasses and love letters forgotten in the pockets of jean shorts

Ice cream and canoe races and running on the beach path in the heat of July
Jan 27

Moving Backward

I am speaking.
Trying to decide what should be
My next move.
What the best strategy would be.

I step forward
Only to be swept back two spaces
By the neverending current
Holding me back.

Holding everyone back.
That current is made up
Of hatred, political anger,
And power in the wrong hands.

In the wrong hands.
The hands of power that
Is supposed to be restrictive.
Jan 27
pbellomo2021's picture

This Speck of Light

Busy city,
Lights flicker endlessly.  
On and off,
Off and on.
Cars zoom by,
Traffic always jammed.
Each light a story,
Most aren’t shared.
All seen from a distance,
But never too close.
Whispers in the wind,
Most you don’t hear.
Trapped in a cycle,
Repeats, never ends.
Wake up early,
Long days end tired.
But I know of one light,
From an apartment window.
It doesn’t catch your eye,
Jan 26
poem 1 comment challenge: Ancestor
H20.hollym's picture


(brief disclaimer: Margulius is my last name)


It tumbles and somersaults
and lands with a splat!
on the tongue of the teacher
taking attendance.

As I introduce myself,
It twists into a goofy
smoke bomb poof
of spazzing colors.

And I can see the
bright blue bubbling
question marks pop up
over their heads.

It's Romanian, I say.

But that hardly explains anything.
Jan 26

Special Markers

The plate wasn’t always blank.
Before the dishwasher soap scrubbed it too clean
I had drawn on it:
A ladybug, red and black,
Colors that squeaked
As markers touched white porcelain—
Special markers, she said.
We each made a plate that day,
One, two, three, lined up to dry,
The extras still stacked in their box,
White as the snow that had kept them there.

We ate pizza on our plates,
Then ran off to play:
Audio download:
Special Markers.m4a
Jan 24
Icarus Blackmore's picture

The Same

There was a mass shooting,
And it slipped my mind.
What was once a sharp bang,
Fades to a distant hum.
Waxing and waning
Like the police sirens that follow.

I walk the halls of my school,
Wonder where will be hit next.
Go through the assembly,
Hear the words of comfort,
That have begun to run together.
Voice the same fears,
Cry the same tears.

Then it’s off to class,
A new kind of learning,
Jan 24

Method Acting

We are poets.
We fell in love with tragedy
and lusting over bittersweet.
We reminisce and romanticize,
waltzing around and toying with
all we love
and knock it down
to capture that moment of beauty,
unfurled and gritty,
raw and real.

We sunk our teeth into each other
and wrote about our radiant yellows
and glittering whites.
We dipped our fingers in inkwells
and wrote on each other's shoulders.
Jan 23
poem 1 comment challenge: Love

10 Steps

At first, it's 
But not quite
It is a tranquillity.
And there is still an unworldly presence
that you can hear.
A power.
In it.
In you.
It is a tangible substance.
Dense, oily, heavy.
The power will engulf
Crush you in its unyielding grip
if you're not careful.
For it is dangerous. 
But it is kind.

a small swish.
Your legs.
Pumping furiously.
Audio download:
10 Steps.m4a
Jan 23

That Valley, Too Far From You

(photo credit: a friend, over the summer)

I noticed today,
out of the foggy
car windshield 
just how 
much this valley
and those fields 
have somehow become part of me.

I like the way that earth 
can’t blow away with the rain. 

I like the way the grass
smells in midsummer;
sweet earth in clean hands,
dark soil on barefeet. 

I like the way my hands
get just numb enough with cold:
Jan 23


while we have this time together,
i want to waste not a minute of it.
the petrichor nights and 
the delicate days,
i want to spend them all with you.
i want to breath in the moon and its 
white stagnant light while our
fingers get tangled in the 
i want for nothing but to write odes
in the black ink of night and
steal words from
the lips of the earth.
i have never liked the ocean,
Jan 22

as poets

as poets we are afraid
afraid of the things lurking in our brains
in the streets
behind the curtains

similes on top of
metaphors on top of
anything to make sense of the world that surrounds us
anything to aid in an explanation
the comparisons flow like rivers from the tips of our pencils

our troubled hearts we pull out from deep inside of us
beautifully jumbled brains help scatter sentences
to love
Jan 21
Nightheart's picture

One single memory

Pick the pieces of my writing apart and 
look at them angrily,
another day forced to smile
trapped by your expectations 
of who I am supposed to be
as I feel I am failing inside.
Trying to keep it together,
insanity beckons me,
it would be a relief
to bound out of the restraints 
of this forced sanity.

Sanity, what is sanity?
is it the limited constraints of people
who think so narrowly,
Jan 20


                                                             Your dance is energy.                             My dance is precision.                                                   
Your dance is the competition team,                                    My dance is even breaths
huddled up in flashy costumes,                                            behind the curtain,
Jan 19
poem 4 comments challenge: Slam
PaulinaW's picture


Loud chewing, gulping, and slurping,

sniffling and spitting and burping.

People who cheat and brag and lie.

Little kids who pick their noses and cry.

Violas screeching and squawking.

People who can’t stop talking.

These things make my eyes go red;

I roar like a lion that hasn’t been fed.

My temper has reached 100 degrees.

Nothing could ever make this anger ease.

Audio download:
Jan 19
Gracie's picture


Oranges have a crisp smell
And tart, sweet taste.
When I 
Bite into them it 
Feels as if I have
Suddenly been surrounded by the 
Warmth of the 
Jan 19
Prasang Agarwal's picture

The Photograph

The Photograph
Cleaning up the attic, late at night,
When I laid my eyes on a divine sight,
Such was my delight it touched my heart,
Cause beauty of that kind,
Couldn’t be described even by the revered poets or bards.
My birthday was round the corner, perhaps it was god’s gift,
Shining with his grace as the picture was, brightly lit,
But I had a question, how unlikely though it may seem,
Had I committed deeds so good,
Jan 18
poem 1 comment challenge: General
CutieAnimals101's picture


Pop pop pop,
Don’t you know that sound?
That’s the popcorn popping,
You can hear it throughout the house.

Beep beep beep,
Doesn’t it sound familiar?
That’s the microwave stopping,
The popcorn’s done popping.

Creak creak creak,
Guess what that is?
That’s the recliner chair settling back,
Someone wants a snack.

Crackle crackle pop,
What could that be?
Someone heard the beep beep beep,