#contemporary poem

[echoesoftheinfinite]

I am shards of broken bottles, and puddles filled with water

The raindrop that falls, and the tear drop that cries

I am the beginning waiting for the end.

[writerbythesea]

new poem

[cemetery-fox]

Sister. Lover. Daughter. Niece. Flower. Apple. Mango. Peach. Daydream. Mystic. Menace. Beast. Pistol. Switchblade. Splash of cream. Exiled. Elevated. Supreme.

I'm always something.

Airbrushed. Thinning. Iridescent. Giggling. Unseen. Moon beam. Emerald. Evergreen. Holy. Rose quartz. Lonely.

You never even tried to know me.

[veronicaaldous]

Lilting

I thought it a good thingThe walls were painted whiteNo one could say it was not clean…A whistling birdTold me other stories He even had a songAbout not speakingOf wounds, sedimentDropping down into a well I fell into a tranceWith my blue-black feathersI attended the needs of othersHad a book of excusesFor cruel manners One day my limbsGrew into a stiff treeThe bird was uncagedAt the cost of…

[soulmaking]

"Mirror" by Rita Dove

[poezisesc]

My mother is my mother and I am her daughter

Act 1

my mother used to craft special bullets for me

she thought the wounds would prepare me for the world

her smiles and hugs were never delivered to me, not even by mistake

was I touched softly

I was not her friend, i was her burden she needed to train to be better

I was a mirror in which she saw herself and I knew she hated herself

Act 2

my back is in pain for years from carrying

my mother's rage in my mouth and her coldness on my shoulders

dozen bottles of tears kept in the back of my being where my childhood lies in a room with to many doors and no lock

craving touches from stranger women in dark bars

almost crying when a kiss is too soft and a little too sincere

I run.

Act 3

my mother is a monster but its because she got swallowed by the terrors of her father

and drowned in the jealousy of her mother

she despaired in loneliness at the arms of her lovers

always trying to please all the people she loved

while they carefully and slowly killed her

I was born and she was almost dead.

My mother is not a monster.

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

Orange lichens, in sun-like clusters, entomb the Rockface wall a sheer ascent from the waterline into glassy viscous green—- the plummet from skyward to lake face passes breathless squadrons of Dragon Flies —devil's Darning Needles threading the air where Wolf Spiders bivouac in web-castles, thin Draculas to their insect host each hairy mantle black with burrow moats at high watermark; yet unforeseen are the funnel lairs for bull snakes each water thrasher gracing the rotund, behemoth Rock lunging like a Spirit Presence up from this watery chalice.

Orange Lichens, by Paul Cameron Brown. As featured in Prussian Blue, 2010 edition.

[sweatermuppet]

Blessed Be by Sol Rios, published in Ghost of my Ghosts

[dogshitonline]

Oranges and Cinnamon Rolls

written today (april 12th 2023) because i love my perfect boyfriend teeheehee

[morningsaidthemoon]

Excerpt from The Song of Roland, translated by Norma Lorre Goodrich (Medieval Myths)

[jetleparti]

I made some poems about America; this one, recorded, is called Ramble.

[soracities]

Carl Phillips, "Fixed Shadow, Moving Water", Then the War: New and Selected Poems [ID'd]

[cemetery-fox]

I'm so fucking disgusting / The crumbling clots of my sanity are falling onto the floor / I can't sleep / I can't eat anymore / My brain is maniacal / Analysis on Adderall / We did a trust fall / I broke like shattering glass / You were once as sweet as buttercream icing melting inside of my mouth / I was always too much for you / Until I cut myself down / Until I became the person that you see as worthy now / But how many times did I almost die? / How many nights did I climb the walls / Pace the floors / Misplace my mind?

[juan-francisco-palencia]

𝙌𝙪𝙤𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙌𝙪𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨.

❝seem at times, we have to accept that some people can only be in our hearts, not in our lives.❞

—  Juan Francisco Palencia.

[veronicaaldous]

Hygge

The wood pigeonOn her roostGood morningMy sweet She opened one eyeSleepy in the fogFrom the tenement boilersFolded into featherinessAs if two hands held herSnugged in woolJust my wish warmthSky is the rooftopOf our love. Birdsong by Veronica Aldous All rights reserved Veronica Aldous 2023