#Rhyme Poetry

[kaywrites23]

Maybe, just maybe, in another universe we were meant to be.

Then maybe there would be an us

instead of just

a you

and

a me.

[stardustthroughthecracks]

Although it’s a tale we often don’t want told,

As the saying goes, many of the good die young

While the bad grow old.

And for that fate we’ll never know how many souls are sold

To tempt odds or tempt gods,

But surely we do know that nothing stays as gold.

[songofsutarima]

Stop Me Before I Cross

I feel…I feel I am wasting away.

Wasting every moment of my day.

I feel rotting happening in my mind,

From all the streaming services for which I signed.

I feel my muscles getting weaker with every passing second

From denying invites to the gym from friends who beckoned.

I feel my speed diminishing and my eyes growing tired.

I feel I’m wasting away and becoming something never desired.

I am approaching a singularity, very near the event horizon,

And I need to make some changes to the course my life’s in.

I need to sharpen my mind by reading and challenging once again

And better my body before it’s just the worthless shell my soul dies in.

I feel I am wasting away,

Every microscopic moment of my day.

I need to put down the sticks and quit the games I play,

I need to do something quick if I don’t want the trajectory to stay.

Adjustments must be made, and for that strength I pray,

Because as it stands now…damn…

I *am* just…

…fading…

…falling…

…decaying…

…diminishing…

….waning…

…dwindling…

…just wasting away.

[misterpuzzles]

"Dall Dem Colors"

The paint on your house?

Nah bitch.

The branna your jeans?

*Fsh*

It's fun.

Fun is the color of your life.

Fun people. *Pow*

Looka dall dem— all dem colors.

Fun times. *Ow*

Looka dall dem— all dem colors.

It's fun— FUN!

Color your life with fun.

*clap X8*

The year of your car?

Nah bra.

The smella your shoes?

*Shish*

It's fun.

Fun is the color of your life.

Fun picnics. *Yow*

Looka dall dem— all dem colors.

Fun hikes. *Zow*

Looka dall dem— all dem colors.

It's fun— FUN!

Color your life with fun.

*clap X32*

Color your life with fun!

*clap X2*

Make it roan, n'green, n'gray.

I said, color your life with fun!

*clap X2*

Pick a pearly, opal-purple shade.

Come on! Color your life with fun!

*clap X2*

Make it disco-dance a warm parade.

Go on! Color your life with fun!

*clap X2*

Kick a muddled-up bowl of trouble...

and let it rain...

all kinds of colors

today.

And say, "Wow...

looka dall dem colors."

[starsnsonnets]

everyone always says

be grateful for what you get

don’t i have free speech?

can i complain about the weather please?

everyone always says

feel some gratitude

just cause i have an attitude

im not mad at you

but can you not assume?

taglist: @horsesarenotdeer @im-on-crack-send-help @book-girl4evaaa @hijabi-flavored-nerd @violet92959

@thoughtlescat

[sanders1665]

Thinking of everything.

A lattice of stars, a web of light, spanning across the endless night. Threads of physics, strings of time, woven into the universe’s rhyme.

Is there a code, a guiding song, a Theory of Everything, all along? Or is it a dance, a cosmic play, born anew each conscious day?

The Cognitive-Theoretical mind unfolds, dreaming shapes the cosmos holds. Do we, with thought, create the skies, or just perceive what underlies?

For each of us, a window clear, a lens of self, a world sincere. Through tangled synapse, pulse, and fire, our minds sculpt visions, worlds inspire.

Yet we are more than sight or sound, we feel the weight of being bound—bound to this earth, this fragile frame, and yet to stars, from where we came.

Are we the universe made aware, a fragment whole, a truth laid bare? Or just the watchers, lone and small, projecting meaning on it all?

In every heart, a unique lens, to see, to question, to make amends. Each life a verse, a fleeting trace, a conscious point in boundless space.

Perhaps the purpose lies in this: to live, to wonder, to exist. To feel, to think, to stand in awe—a fleeting spark of nature’s law.

For all we are, for all we’ll be, is just one thread in infinity. And every thread, with its own view, makes the cosmos whole, and ever new.

[most-ment]

I haven't unpacked my feelings yet.

Sometimes it's like I'm going through the motions,

Experiencing experiences that I'll eventually forget.

This dunya is ephemeral, just like my emotions.

~

I dream of the eventuality;

Of a future I've hurriedly claimed.

Being unsure is my specialty,

I just really want everything to be okay.

~

I'm grateful that I'm happy,

I'm happy that I'm grateful.

I don't want good things to pass me,

I fear growing up distasteful.

~

I'm fine even with so many emotions repressed.

So why bother unpacking them?

If I think too much it's depressed express

So I quiet my thoughts and pretend.

~

These words may make you assume,

That I don't feel ease with every breath I breathe.

So let me tell you, that isn't true,

I actually feel glee mostly.

~

I just wanted to let some things out,

Even my nafs need to be acknowledged.

The water must escape the gloomy rainy cloud,

So I'll feet at peace at sunset.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello loves, hope you like the poem. Too tired to write smth interesting sorry.

Does my tag list watch the sunset I wonder?: @jayrealgf @jordynhaiku @think-through-pen @unforgettable-sensations @grimfox

[scribblesofsutarima]

Yea…neither did I.

Not after the failed try.

I tried my darndest to vie.

To be the apple of your eye.

And I won! Took home the title.

Hitting love shots that were vital.

But how much bullshit does it take to entitle

Me to true love’s work, not just the fucking recital?

Because me and my love. My dance. Did blaze.

Because you and your eyes. My love, did raise.

But we both knew a false idol you praised,

I saw you bow, and I wasn’t upset.

Mostly because.

I never trusted you anyways.

[redley-of-many-noodles]

Gallic

What a varied word is “gallic.”

A metal made of miracles,

A citizen from ancient Gaul,

“Gallic” speaks of many things,

With little rhyme at all.

Of Frenchmen, young, old and all,

Or acid from the sumac’s gall;

Of a rare trivalent metal

Which from Heaven may as well fall.

But to say you have no words,

A fib as sour as spoiled curds!

When all these many tongues

Are so beauteously absurd!

Yes, you must have quite the gall,

Or a head shaped rather phallic,

To brush past the beauty of such words

As “petrichor,” “myriad,” and “gallic.”

[pricc]

WHO THEY THOUGHT I WAS

They thought I was crazy.

Aren't we all a little insane?

They thought I was stupid.

I've heard all the names.

They must've thought I was emotionless,

When they said my dad wasn't dead.

They must've thought I didn't know,

Everything that was said.

They thought I was so different,

Now they want me around.

They must've thought I wouldn't know

Who made every sound.

They even called me white

Because of the way I act.

They even called me foolish,

Thinking that I didn't like black.

They thought so many things,

It's no wonder I've changed,

Because they thought so much shit,

I'll never be the same.

He said, she said,

Yes, that really hurts.

If only they'd think for once.

I've tried it and it still works.

What do they want to know?

Because I think I'm a simple man.

It's such a shame that they thought,

That I'm more than what I am.

[harleeyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]

pt 4(??) of introducing my shit poetry like i’m on npr tiny desk

so uh this is a part of an unreleased poem, sonuh teaser i guess. i haven’t decided on a title, but i’ve been thinking “what it means to be queer” or “what it means to be me.” i’ve been going through some religious guilt about being gay, and a bunch of other things have been going on. at least it breaks me out of writer’s block i guess.

here we go.

“it’s so hard to be queer.

i can’t find words to ever come near

to the experience, i fear.

have i ever not been queer?

before i was me, i was queer.

my identity is soft and salty, a fallen tear.

to me, love is intimate and dear.

but what is it to be queer?”

yeah! just a snippet, but i actually have a little photo of the original thought process.

[songofsutarima]

Sober

You know…I like drinking,

But I’m not sure I like drunk.

Because then I’m stuck thinking

About the depths to which I’ve sunk.

All the insults I let loose from my lips.

Saying whatever to make sure a balance tips.

Mistruths spoken and stories just made up.

Maybe if I put the glass down I could trade up.

Maybe i could shine more clearly, like light through perfect glass

And maybe I’d stop stumbling and sounds over my lips could cleanly pass.

Because I hate what I’ve said in an inebriated state.

So I think I’ll chill for a minute; actually think straight.

I hate what I’ve decided to bet when I’m drowning

And it’s probably high time I stop fooling around and clowning.

Because 1-20 isn’t a funny number when I’m behind the wheel,

And the bottle we just bought already has a broken seal.

So instead of starting ignition by turning some keys,

Perhaps, instead of vodka, I’ll drink in the mountains, trees, and breeze.

I’m an anxious person, that can’t be denied,

And I thought that liquor could help me hide.

But anxiety becomes paranoia, which either spirals to angry or sad,

And I don’t like the paranoid person I am when I’m drunk and I’m mad.

Trust and loyalty mean nothing to a poison-drenched mind,

And though no evidence exists, I’ll make it up, then that I’ll find.

And I would like to have that all be avoided.

So I think my future alcohol purchases can be voided.

Laying down with clean blood and a clear brain

Feels better, even if I have the small sadness ache and pain.

I close my eyes and smile because I was able to keep

Sober for a day, and can be sent to restful sleep.

But….who is standing in the corner of my room…?

Seven feet tall and over me this shadow of darkness does loom.

Just staring, unmoving, as I happen to be,

Since this paralysis demon is here for me.

I kinda forgot that he shows up when I have sober dreams

And he has friends to make sure we are on uneven teams.

Now that I see, I remember, why I was drinking.

Because I can’t move right now? Except for my blinking.

I can’t control my breathing, I can’t move my arms.

I can’t scream, and I can’t protect myself from harm.

Internally screeching, begging this devil to leave me alone,

Feeling icy tendrils dig into my flesh and start breaking my bones.

Then I blink and he’s gone and I can finally move.

I remember now what pushed me to what others disapprove.

I swear I tried to put up a good fight, but my attempt is over.

If I have to see him every night, I can’t go back to being sober.

[misterpuzzles]

"We Can Be The Answers"

Questions are just sentences with different punctuation.

We are the very difference.

We made the very language.

We wrote the very rules.

We scaled the scary mountains

but befell forbidding fools.

SO, SO MANY QUESTIONS!

Sometimes it seems unfair.

But we can be the answers

if only we should dare.

[sanders1665]

The false friend.

You call me a friend, but where is your spine?

You never defend, never hold the line.

I see you with smiles, but I hear the sound—

The whisper, the venom meant to bring me down.

You dare to offer a helping hand,

While beating your drum in a rival band.

You chase the winners, the ones who gleam,

Driven by envy, your ego’s dark dream.

The truth I share, you twist and mar,

Rumors you spread, taking them far.

Perpetrator cloaked in a victim’s guise,

Your mask of deceit doesn’t hide your lies.

A cross on your neck, a counterfeit charm,

But your bad cheque speaks to the harm.

You think you're a diamond, flawless, divine,

Yet cubic zirconia is your true shine.

On your street corner of lies and deceit,

Slandering my name, your work’s complete.

But I see through the smile, the sugary tone,

Your bitterness carved in every bone.

You call others cheats when their victories are fair,

It’s your twisted mind that’s the cross you bear.

Step in my shoes, and you might see—

The loathing that rises whenever you’re near me.

[most-ment]

Vigilante

At first, I thought I was doing the right thing.

The police were inadequate and the government wasn't listening.

▪️

At the time, I assumed that I was making things better.

Justice! I thought I was the dispenser.

▪️

I thought wrong.

▪️

Taking the laws in my hands,

Only coated them in red.

Justice was something I didn't understand,

Despite all the virtuous things I said.

▪️

I truly thought I was doing the right thing,

But for any one battle I lost, more innocent people were dying.

▪️

At some point, I wanted it to end,

But I could do nothing to erase the bounty on my head.

▪️

Hated by the criminals,

Scorned by the popo.

My problems became anything but trivial

And I tried to hear them solo.

▪️

I couldn't though,

Instead I put in danger anyone I brought close.

▪️

Lost I was.

It was the right thing at first.

It was the right thing I thought.

So much fighting for what?

▪️

Lost in distrust.

I was losing too much.

I was losing my touch.

It was grueling to watch.

▪️

How much more to experience?

▪️

Doing the right thing the wrong way.

I thought a saviour was something I could be.

In trying to shield you from the sun, I only brought harsher rays.

I'm not an hero but a vigilante.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Hello loves, hope you like the poem. This iss pretty much inspired by whatever vigilante movie or books I've read. Mostly DC

▪️

My vigilante tag list: @jayrealgf @think-through-pen @unforgettable-sensations @mk-ranz @timeflieslikeabanana @jordynhaiku

[ruffles23]

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnets from the Portuguese