| A Little Past Midnight As the city lights slowly fade, Like candles melting into nothing. There stands many souls lost Basking in the sounds of something Whether it be blaring horns, Or voices gossiping in the street, Where all are welcome to stay, Yet only the vagabonds come to meet Hello, Goodbye, and some say farewell, While others never look you in the eye, And continue to wander in the night, And disappear under the pretty city sky Cigarettes and fragrant vapor in the air, Ice cold cocktails is all we need to feel right, Holding on to dreams or so we all say, As the heavenly clock turns a little past midnight... Sweet sweet surrender to all our little vices But bitter is the taste of all our internal crisis. |
SkiesOfBlueOct 1, 2022 6:51 AM
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| Footsteps and footprints, Made and left behind as the wanderer goes on his way. Sounds of birds and light of the sun, What could bless the wanderer on this beautiful day. In the far over yonder, Is a large wall and wooden door where he must come to meet. It is not imposing but simply another stop, For the wanderer is nothing but a man with two simple feet. There is nothing to dread, There is nothing to be said, Only to be living and to feel, And that being alive is the only thing that is real. |
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| These tears went dry, And now I wonder why, I even went to you and said "Hi." The mornings gone by, So should I even try, And understand "you and I." And even if I would, Would it have even mattered? And even if I could, All that remains is shattered. But being like this... It's neither a loss or a fall... It's not so bad... It's not that bad at all. |
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| Summer Nights Lost and lost and lost and lost and lost. Then I take a breath as I sit and pause. Embraced by the chill in the air, Even in Summer nights I feel no warmth, Entranced by the lights, I just don't care, As I count the stars and stop at the fourth. It's a city type of vibe or is it really? I call her my angel and she calls me silly. I ask her to dance with me, And she smiles and steps into the rhythm. I whisper and glance quickly, As she spins into the music and listens. Then as quickly as she held my hand, She leaves into the crowd, away from where I stand. It's a night for love and danger, It's an evening for all these hopes and desires, To find romance with these strangers, A soulmate in my arms or just another liar? Lost and lost and lost and lost and lost. I take a breath as I walk, not pause. |
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| This Road This road, this road What can be said of this road. It has given me joy, It has given me grief, It has shown me the light, It has shattered my belief. It has battered my body, It has scarred my tender heart, It has tormented my mind, It has all but torn my soul apart. Would a sane man keep walking? Would a broken man still smile? Would a knowing man keep moving? Would an honest man endure this trial? The sun rises tomorrow, and so does the moon. The sky knows of my sorrow, and of my anguishing tune. Alas, there is no turning back, Continue the journey, the Gods above have sent. I pick up my feet and continue this track, Whatever is at the end, I must know... what it all has meant. |
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| Too Much to Bear Some days the heaviness becomes too much to bear, And so these days I walk to a mirror and begin to stare... The calluses on my hand, The scars on my waist, The dirt beneath my feet, The circles on my face, A weary wanderer wondering why he willingly waits without a way to rid the weight off his shoulders. A surreal sight to see such sorrow in a soul sit in solitude saying that the search will go on as he gets older. Gibberish, rubbish, nonsense. It's all meaningless, or so it all seems to be. The voices keep speaking, A mere mortal would have gone mad, or at least not me. Fight these senseless things, They mean nothing, because nothing at all seems to be. Whisper to the ghosts and to the angels, Thank you for everything, because at least death has yet to meet me. |
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| Forsaken Perhaps it was doomed, And all those dreams were not meant to be, Perhaps I was a fool, And all those hopes were for others and not for me. Am I simply cursed? Am I ever to find a place I can be? Have I been forsaken? Or was it I that sabotaged me? The lost fool, the lost fool, The lost fool, who can't find his way. The silent mockery he hears in his head, And all the dread that follows each day. Walking and walking and walking, When will this wandering ever end? Am I not good enough for love and joy? Or am I doomed to wander without end? Swimming and drowning, in my own blood and tears, As the storm of this torment has yet to disappear... |
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| A Gamble Fails What could have been? What should have been? What would I have done? What should I have done? Some say in order to be alive, One must take a roll of the dice, Some say in order to stay alive, One must always think at least twice, But no man can stay in the darkness, As the world passes him by and call it living, And no man can stay and be harmless, If he wishes to be someone worth reminiscing. And today the man took a roll, The highest of risks, the highest of rewards, And the dice came with all the hubris and pride, And just like that, all of it had crashed and died. Thereafter a man lives with his curses, A man lives with the consequences of his gambles. And is left in nothing but his self inflicted shackles, Live once and fall with the heart and purses. Continue living is all we can do now... |
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| Ivy Slowly you drift away from me, Like a boat cast upon the sea, Endlessly I chase the trail your comet leaves, In the black of the midnight sky, You ascend to limitless possibilities, While I am left to where my youth allows me, You made your descent, And I stood here, Throwing stone after stone at you, Each pebble I could find, Yet you took each and every one of them in your stride, It was then that I felt it, Like a stake piercing through my heart, Glass shards slicing through my skin, I could find no fault within your reason, Yet your tongue cut deeply like a knife, A sword Arthur himself could not wield, From the rock that is your mouth, I longed so deeply to receive flowery lies, Yet all you had were wilted roses, Planted deep within the depths of my chamber, Life will never be the same again. |
mellowstarMar 19, 2024 4:41 PM
   I take you back yeah, i know it seems surprising when there's lipstick still on the glass and the full moon rising but it's me who makes myself mad i take you |
| There was a flock of friends fair-weather dear-- A gaggle of snakes decked out in downy-- And these birds of likened feather were queer, As they giggled and gagged When my knee gave out on me. I was not one to fall, lay down, and die-- Nay sir, never give up, not I!--I rose, Or crawled on that ground upon which I lie, Moving forth, spirit-high, For I'm not brought low by lows. When at last I recovered, I then soared, These fleeting fiends had not ever turned back By my talons were they tore, scored, and gored-- I caught me a gander; An ugly duck, and a quack. I had killed them twice over, in one round; An aerial affair, plumage sky-strewn; Once in the heavens, again on the ground Those bill-babbling bastards Will never again mock my croon. Several days past and at last I was caught, The deed was done with a wide-casted net, "I will not go quiet!" I squawked and fought, But soon after I was clipped; My wings were shot by the vet. |
| Yay, I'm so positively surprised there's such a thread here on MAL ^_^ I thought I'd share one of my poems with you: ひぐらしのなく頃に – like state of mind I cup it, dirty glitter. there it is. there they are, ready. bugging. nagging. bugs. maggots. there it is, mindfxck. in bloom, I am trembling. my mom always said: try to clean up the mess, spilt chocolate milk, bear-shaped jellies, sticky sugar fingers. there it is, a dirty thought, a burning middle. in the first place, I’ve never wanted to drop things. after they crash, ants & beetles & praying mantises kiss me. my thoughts alive again, a dance beat, remembrance. 22/09/23 © Maria Juchniewicz I've also got an IG page if you're interested @eeriemilyworlds but it's such a cool experience to post something here too ^_^ |
 |
| here are a few short poems i wrote: 1. you're all i know, and all i wish to know. the thought of you will stay with me as i go. in case i don't wake up tomorrow, i love you so. 2. my heart is aching for my only love his promise, he broke, its pain i have to bear. i cry to the heavens, and beg, and pray oh god, will he please come back and stay? 3. when we were together, nothing else mattered. no hardship nor pain could separate us forever. but, life is cruel, and for us the pain came true with this ending, this goodbye, that only you knew. |
*burps* [font="\"Proxima Nova Regular\", \"Helvetica Neue\", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif"] [/font] |
| I think I've fallen out of... The calm, soothing breeze kisses my cheek, The sun in the sky has smiled at me all week. But you... Your smile that once brought light into my life, Has faded and rusted into this dull, little knife. And you... Perhaps it was never ever meant to be. Perhaps it was just a spark that never meant be a flame. Perhaps we weren't prepared mentally. Perhaps I was a fool dreaming myself into our little game. But now... The birds continue to fly and the world continues to turn, And maybe we'll cross hearts again and let the passion burn. But for now... I must bid farewell and take my leave. Maybe forever or maybe temporarily... |
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| What are we? There are days I hear your voice, On days when the sun shines bright, On days that fog and gray clouds cover, And on days that should be a stormy night. But when I don't hear your voice, My thoughts do nothing but fly over yonder, My mind seeks to go elsewhere, Only for you to appear where I go and wander. Why are we the way things are? Does God have plans or is this all a dream? Why must our world be so chaotic? Or is our fate more connected than it seems? Like a mirror that only partially tells the truth, Like a sunny day and yet still there is rain, Like a city full of noises, yet it's only you, I hear, Like a paradise on earth, yet I still feel this pain. What are we? Have we not made amends? In futility, I find nothing that makes any sense. |
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| Comment sections erupt, a chaotic display. Of ship wars and spoilers, all thrown out in a day. A generic shounen gets a ten out of ten. Is there really any hope for MyAnimeList then? |
| 世界中がつずく 花に両手 秋その枯れる |
 |
| I haven't let myself fall in a long time I haven't freed my spirit from this tin To fall backwards and dance with death As to be held by the universes hand To fear the unknown is part of man Just as I land on soft linen The Universe is saying, "Look within" Free yourself from this bed Kiss death and live |
| Borrowed Dances For just those little moments, Those minutes that feel like many hours, For just that small window, Where the room feels like it's full of flowers. Your hands and mine become one, And all the world no longer feels to be around, Your eyes and mine meet and lock, And all the world no longer makes a single sound. A simple movement between you and I, And somehow we've become trapped in this trance, Your name I don't know, but I do your smile, Let's not feel guilty, as we share this borrowed dance. |
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| A Letter for You My dearest, my dearest, We have yet to meet eyes, I fear that, and fear this, Our love will come to demise. My dearest, my darling, We are mere mortals in this life, The meekest, my darling, But strength can come with some strife. My darling, you are fairest, Let us be reasonable with our words, We're falling, I was careless, But I never meant to cast a curse. Say the word, and my dear, Then all the hurt will shatter, And you heard, not a tear, Because only you and I, will matter. |
| What isn't red? What isn't blue? |
| Blue Prints By Donovan Clarke Our poems are like blue prints, They are not mere fact for the times, They seek to instill no opinion With the tinkle of rhymes. They are not alabaster tombs Of pre-war commonplace; Of the art-book of life They bear no trace But they are the working designs, Thrown on the factory bench, Begrimed with the fitter's thumb And the turner's wrench. These are no delicate tracings For the podgy, manicured hand And heavy eyes of the big guy Who exploits the land. Here are specifications For the latest equipment of sense : A locking device for the heart, A trigger for truth's defence They are negative impressions Of an imprint of the mind ; The Positive, the will, Yourself must find ____ |
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