#Free verse poetry

[urdeepestdesire]

We’re like a threaded memory;

whenever anyone turns either of us over, it’s the other they’ll find waiting.

Always together by Franco Anselmi

[johnnyslittleanimalblog]

Some People Dream in Abstract (Great Smoky Mountains National Park) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: Some People Dream in Abstract Thoughts Like an Expressionist's Painting While other are bizarre, almost seemingly surreal Mine have been both, and sometimes in red But right now, I only dream wonderment for what stands in front Another work of short poetry or prose to complement the image captured one afternoon in the Cades Cove area of Great Smoky Mountains National Park. This was at a roadside pullout along the main park road with a view looking to the north-northwest to a group of black bears (momma bear and three cubs) who happened to be crossing this asphalt road. I captured quite a few images at this location, but this is one of the few that I really liked of the group because the momma bear happened to be looking in my general direction while her cub continued on.

[lorithescrump]

Our paths are pathed

The same shade

o shameful red

This tiresome trail

I shall walk with you

For our soles are soaked

This shade

o shameful red

[cornerstoner13]

addict - a poem

I am nothing more than an addict without an outlet So instead, I am searching  to shoot up on sadness. 

✰ - k.

[visionsofaselfmademan]

[wenumsmol]

Ma-whore-aga

Arch your back, chest pressed in the sheets. Toot that ass upright and let Mahoraga beat it.

I know its big. I know its hefty. Cock veined, heavily hanging leftly.

It's too much but he assumes you'll adapt with his hand on your waist and your pussy in his lap.

#But I'm not a rapper.

[writinginreadlight]

My mother calls me Napalm, she says I’m hard to breathe in. I choked on those words, embarrassed by the truth of it. I crouched under the plume of shame, determined not to be flattened by it. Flat like my breast, bound under this dress.

Flat like that man who told me I was nothin. Should I take it all in? Open my lungs and embrace the Toxic tastes of others’ disdain for who I am? I’m not a thief. My treasures are passed down.

These gifts are inherited from my father, Who left my mother headstrong and bedridden.

[3amfanfiction]

You pull guns not fire extinguishers

When someone is burning in front of you.

You pull guns not fire extinguishers

When a mother takes what isn’t hers,

She can’t feed her children when she’s the only one.

When she asked you for help you told her, “get a job, go to school, don’t have kids”

As the food made its way into her bag when she knew her card was empty,

You pull guns not fire extinguishers.

You pull guns not fire extinguishers

and then are surprised when no one will ask for help.

Surprised when people get nervous if they see you even looking at them.

You pull guns not fire extinguishers

When you see a hijab.

Whenever prayer rugs are pulled out,

And thoughts turn inward,

You pull guns not fire extinguishers

You pull guns not fire extinguishers

Then you ask ‘why don’t they like me?’

‘Can’t they see I’m doing what’s right?’

‘Can’t they see the respect I deserve?’

Your fingers wouldn’t be able to find the pin, your hands don’t know how to work a nozzle you’ve never held.

You pull guns not fire extinguishers

When a man cries for help.

His mind works a bit differently than yours, whether from birth or use.

When he asked you for help you told him, “figure it out, stop sleeping here, don’t bother the people walking by”

Then when he screams and disrupts and is in your way,

You pull guns not fire extinguishers.

You pull guns not fire extinguishers

When a boy holds a phone,

An oak tree drops it’s acorn,

A man tries to breathe.

You pull guns not fire extinguishers

Because you’re not here to help.

[sapphuric-acid]

When I act femininely it's in a "gay man" way, not a "womanly" way.

When I wear flashy colors it's because I take pride in my fashion, not because I'm a femme.

When my hair is grown out, it's in a "glam rock" or "beach bum" or even a "stoner punk" kind of way, not in a "cute quirky gal" or "majestic young lady" way.

When I use dudebro language, it's "fun and laid-back", not "rude and improper".

When I use a polite tone, it's because I'm being nice to a stranger, not because I'm a subservient little thing.

I'm a "pretty boy", not a "cute girl".

I'm a "guy with a fat ass", not a "woman with child-bearing hips".

I'm a "short king", not a "little lady".

But you wouldn't see that, would you? How far do I have to go to get you to see me?

[cybereucharist]

Wrote this in 15 minutes at a café listening to DELIRIO DE GRANDEZA by Rosalía.

[urdeepestdesire]

Oh, nocturnal dreamer—

spellbound by night fabric;

tell me,

what are the stars whispering

confusing you with the moon?

The Young Martyr (1855) | Paul Delaroche

[maggotslove]

To be someone’s muse

To be the ink they use when they write their poems and rhymes, and be written as nothing but divine

To be studied and worshipped on paper, a new use of your life a new way to be alive

being watched with want and seen as life

so incredibly bright, all will want a bite

[bonnetfulloflowers]

Some day(te)

The calendar in my room sits stoped at November 10th,

For no particular reason.

The face of man stares back at me through it

He wishes he could wish me well,

He sees all the clothes strewn around,

He watches as I pace,

Or sit quietly avoiding what looms like the cycle of day and night.

Deep in the night,

Blankets pulled high like a shield against deeper thoughts

He listens to my sobbing.

I do not wish to turn the next month

To move the date

I do not wish to see the new year

And all it will bring,

Leave me in my fort of security

Leave me on November 10th

Some notes - this is still a work in progress and just a first pass, but I wanted to share it! Please if you have any critiques do tell me! (Just nicely my heart can’t handle much) also yes that title is horrific I know 😭

[roberttaylorsleeps]

Why?

Why do I let others stab my chest, just to feel the pain I seek? Why do I climb walls that have no steps, just to fall back on my feet? Why do I continue to drive myself forward, until I'm collapsing on my knees. Why do I continue to push myself onward, to a goal I cannot achieve.

Driving myself....insane through this endless repeating task. Seeding petty doubts in my brain, an audience that repeatedly asks "Why do I chose to do the things I do?" "Why do I chose to do the things I do?" To chase the carrot on a stick, to chase the clouds in the sky. Dreams that will never leave the confines of my empty and rotting brain.

And as the audience repeats the same phrase again, and again, I ask myself, why? Why. Why do I push forward? Why I do jump in? When I know the ship is sinking. When I know the door is locked. There are no stairs to get up the wall! So why do I climb up knowing I will end up on my knees.

-Robert Taylor (RobertTaylorSleeps)

[demonladys]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: プロジェクトセカイ カラフルステージ！| Project SEKAI COLORFUL STAGE! (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Akiyama Mizuki/Shinonome Ena Characters: Akiyama Mizuki, Shinonome Ena Additional Tags: Poetry, Trans Female Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Free Verse, Ena5 Spoilers Summary:

a conversation between artist and muse

[namelesspoett]

I write.

I write, blood

To stitch my old scars

I write, ink

To hydrate my

Deserted heart

I write,

To sing what

My mind silently

Screams

I write,

So I can breath

Words of a poet

I write,

For my thunderstorms

Can bloom gardens