#first poetry post
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sapphichotmess ¡ 1 year ago
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i am always the poet, never the poem.
i want to be loved as i love others:
all the way, filling their cups to the brim.
but they just take,
and take, and take,
and don’t bother to pour into mine—
i am taken for granted
time and time again.
i love selflessly, never asking for more
than what they give.
i have made them my reality
in every world i weave
with words, with imagination;
but to them, i am just a dot of an i—
the cross of a t;
i am nothing but a quick line
in the sea of letters and words.
i am always the poet, never the poem.
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nnothingnesss ¡ 1 year ago
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soft warm jazz
in those words you speak
its melody is alcohol
the keys and notes, the tones and pitch
your voice is its own instrument
of mass destruction
the crashing cymbals and the singing strings
the thing is, i want you
to destroy me
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writings-ofthe-heart ¡ 11 months ago
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i'm a greedy dog
i don't bite
but your hand outstretches
raw, soaking meat in the palm of your hand
beating life
affection mistaken for intrusion
i bite off more than i can chew
i'm a greedy, selfish dog
I don't mean to bite
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quisyop ¡ 1 year ago
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Wrote poetry (more word vomit) formatted like House of Leaves. It’s my first time writing long-form (ish) poetry. It’s entitled Basic Words. The formatting may not work on all devices- sorry? I might make a sequel that either works better or on desktop or just basic one. Enjoy!
Basic Words
I often try to write about perspective, and emotion, and my thoughts,
and
dreams and endless questions but I find my words, no matter the kind, are always
lacking. words firm in logic, or that flow like a river, words that dance with each other
crossed
like star lovers
or that
sit
solemnly
in
silence.
Words that that stay, that are colorful, that are
shift,
bland
that are
artistic,
that are basic,
The words I write now
fill me with anger, with
frustration,
with annoyance, because it’s not quite right.
I express the same hollow
words and desires on paper, on technology, in speech, in thought. They echo to myself
as distortions
of what I mean to put down. They are stable to others, perfectly normal,
but I see the rot that
shows its insecurity.
Words aren’t perfection despite what I want, they don’t reach perfection
despite what I want, they don’t cross all thought despite what I want
They are simple, meant only for simple meaning and conversations, not the colorful things I
think
or hear
or see.
They describe only the black and white photo
of an abstract
painting.
I continue to write the same useless words trying to express the
same useless
thoughts,
even though these things that are functional lies mean nothing to you
because you don’t recognize this black and white photo as the
same colorful
painting you see.
Words often feel cold and uncomfortable when I try to write . They feel
stiff
and rough
and angry.
Every word is angry and stiff, when my thoughts are loose
cloudy
and dreamy
happy and and l. d and and sudden.
i i
qu
Words are a science, and
thoughts are a mystery yet to be solved
I finish this poem, barely one at all, leaving unsatisfied and wanting for more.
More lines or stanzas about how I feel about how my paper doesn’t, how my
breathing
thoughts
are suffocated on the page.
The stanzas, the sentences,
the words,
the letters, the lines, they all mean nothing in the context of thought. Despite this I
push on as a writer and a thinker,
trying to connect the two in a useless attempt that
will never end.
I tried to finish this in a final paragraph of thought that summarized the
feelings I felt but it didn’t. Simple as that. I write these words again, still hollow,
still that black and white painting. I’ll probably never share these
words that
mean as
much as nothing,
that breathe as much as a corpse,
that express a void,
but it feels nice
to think that
I could one day show another.
For another to see what is blatantly
confusing and
nothing and useless and
a sad attempt to describe something
much more complex than
I’ll ever understand
feels comforting.
It gives me solace that one day someone will
have the words.
Written by ~Me~
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mayo-rose ¡ 1 year ago
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Loneliness
For a long time I’ve been on my own.
Family is the closest and yet the farthest.
Looking into people’s eyes brings me more pain and sorrows,
For love isn’t there.
Lies upon lies,
Fakes!
I am very young but old at heart
I am very weak but strong in mind
I am very strong but fragile
I am a lot of things but really nothing
I am tired,
All alone.
Keeping up the steady smiles,
I guess I have also learnt to fake it
Covering up till it comes
But when???
When shall the collector come?
I am tired,
All alone.
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ame1lia ¡ 1 year ago
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sigh
sometimes i want to to die
because no one seems to care
but maybe I just want to sigh
loudly and glare
why am I so alone
skinny like a bone
she’s so nice
nicer than I could ever be
and we can all agree
I cut me a slice
and it starts to well up
let’s go drink beer in a pub
ignore the problems laying before your eyes
telling me stupid lies
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samsleeps2much ¡ 1 year ago
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first poetry post :)
i don't know if i believe in god still  i don't know if i ever really did  i think i would just pray for something to save me something better than the people who were supposed to  i'll use him as a blanket  i'll sneak out at 3am i'll look for something greater than me greater than this life i'll never fulfill i'll ride my bike for hours  up and down this shitty little beach town  the only thing i'll find is the moon but as soon as i sit down to talk  she leaves so ill depart at 12 tonight  i'll ride to the pier  i'll pay 4 dollars for my ticket i'll go to the very edge and sit all the fishermen look at me crazy as i talk  i don't mind anymore it'll become a nightly routine  everynight i'll talk to her  i’ll tell her all my worries  how my days been how much i wish i could just drive away  never once she responded  never once she needed to  she slowly turned into a quilt  her light made all the�� dark corners and shadows less scary she made them more beautiful than the sun could ever dream of and everynight i look for her i'll beg some would even say pray  for her to never let me end up like them  but sneaking out doesn't stop you from having to go back home and hiding under a blanket doesn't stop the bed bugs from biting  
little side note : this is the first time i've ever posted my writing on tumblr so id love to hear feedback (good or bad) about it!
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kingkatia ¡ 1 year ago
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I solemnly swear by KingKatia
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I walked through trenches of utter despair,
Ive lived a life of total dominance,
The life I call mine I wish to repair,
Unfortunately my heart is bottomless.
I hunt for the one who can fix me,
Decades I searched high and low,
But I could never see,
I came across a beautiful crow,
Who said he knew my sorrow well
So I followed him far, far down below,
To find myself at the gates of hell.
He told me he would make me whole
If I just signed this I would revel,
I realized he wanted me to sell my soul,
I solemnly sell my soul to the devil.
The greatest price I ever paid
Was the cost of my entire existence
The euphoria began to fade
That was the gift of his insistence.
The regret I felt was unreal,
I watch as all my blood was drawn
I didn’t know that was part of the deal,
I forever will be his pawn.
I solemnly swear,
That all of me is yours to keep
This life I could no longer bear,
I have nothing left to weep.
Choose what you wish of me
I herby agree to be bound to you
With this contract you will see
I completely surrender myself to you.
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randumbness23-blog ¡ 2 years ago
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nnothingnesss ¡ 1 year ago
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you talk as if
you’re already dead
but you are very much alive
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mooliel ¡ 2 years ago
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My heaven is the floor of her room.
She always had some mug or plate lying there, but I didn’t mind. Her mum would make us food, and I was always too scared to tell her I didn’t like the food she put out for us. Was it because I was scared she would think it was because it was polish? Or was I scared because she was too friendly towards me? It doesn’t matter anymore anyways. All that mattered was us. Sitting in her room, admiring her books and posters and bedsheets.
Sharing a monster, giggling over a video we wouldn’t remember fifteen minutes after, watching cringy romcoms at two am, finally falling asleep at five. None of what happened in those six nights I slept over matters anymore. All I remember is happiness. I was overjoyed to be in her presence, overjoyed she let me into a space so personal for her. I was just happy to spend time with her.
It took me a long time to realize I was in love with Nicole Polcyn. It shouldn’t’ve taken me that long to realize. I laid in her lap, got jealous whenever she called another girl her best friend, stared at her longingly any chance I got, we even kissed in the corner of the tennis courts. I invited her to a Tv girl concert. My dad paid for her ticket. I knew the way I felt towards her was unusual for just best friends, and I knew she would never feel the same way about me, but I just knew these feelings weren’t going away soon, so I let them linger. I think she knew, but never told me.
Looking back, she was never a good friend. Our old friends were nothing like me, but her personality melded in with theirs so perfectly. It made me want to die. Now I know that makes me sound like the bad friend but trust me, she was way worse. She celebrated when I started to become like those friends, always took others’ sides over mine, replaced me out of nowhere. She made me feel worthless, replaceable. The fact I was in love with her made it worse. I thought she also felt those butterflies when we kissed but apparently it was all a game with her.
Now other girls sit on her floor. But they don’t giggle over tiktoks and watch romcoms. No, they down vodka shots and talk shit. I guess that’s just what she’s always wanted out of a friend. My avoidance of alcohol apparently was one of the factors in our separation. However, no one will ever be able to fill the void she left in my heart. No one will ever laugh like her, smile like her like me like I liked her. I guess she was my first love. Its a lot to think about, having a first love, especially when she’s not in your life anymore. But, no matter where we both are, no matter how much hate I have for her, my paradise will always be the floor of her room.
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ra-2506 ¡ 1 year ago
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I wanted to publish this poem of mine 😅that just came to me after thinking🤔 of all the things I have through at school this year💯.
So please be honest😁 about the poem and pls give me pointers👀 that can help me improve on future poems in the future 😁.
REGRETS ✨
Over my shoulder the shadow looms like humid air.
Much to my dismay the time I have can't spare-
A moment of truth, for a greedy gasp of air
I only hope for a better day for us my dear.
We wish to be free amongst the others,
To be normalized into the casual ordinary
Living as the best of the worst was momentary.
We have survived but not thrived.
Bright gleams kills the burdens,
Lifting off the weight of notes and appearances,
Our moment has arrived to be recognized.
Yes. I hope to be next to you
Yet the world has bigger things that are due-
I write to say goodbye to the past life,
I had in those corridors and lockers,
And wave "hi" to the start of a new beginnings.
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cal-an-ambulance ¡ 1 year ago
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Night Trains
When summer has faded,
insects retreated and the leaves fallen,
I open my ears and listen.
I’ll start hearing it soon.
Metal on metal. Cold as ice.
A night train grinds on the rails tonight.
It’s clearest in winter
My old friend hides in the quiet calm
They are hot chocolate and spiced rum.
They smell of radiators and candle smoke
My sound a warm palm on a frosted pane.
How many nights have they accompanied me?
When the city’s ballad weaves,
my noise pierces it all.
Resonating warm in my chest
I cherish the interruption.
I often wonder if neighbors notice it,
Do they recognize the beauty of its harsh tone?
The rushing of our city’s veins
reminding us of other’s down the line.
The connections we share but never make.
Yes late at night
As I await the soothing screech of train brakes
I’ll remember a book in my hands,
a mug at my side, a blanket on my shoulders.
And when it sings it’s sirens song
I’m reminded of my citizen strangers listening
As the night train brings us home.
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imcloudysworld ¡ 1 year ago
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Hopeless
Hopeless. That’s all I’ve ever felt living in this house. That’s all I’ll ever feel. Knowing that you can’t escape. Knowing that you won’t be able to escape even if you tried. But I’m tired. Tired of the constant nagging feeling in my chest. Tired of the consent overthinking. I want to feel. I want to have hope like everyone else. I want to continue thinking that maybe, maybe something will change. But I’ve learned to quickly that having even the slightest bit of hope will crush you. Oh what I would do to get out of this hell hole.
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authentically-ash ¡ 2 years ago
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Muddy Mirror
My mother takes a photo of me, commemorating a fond memory; when I see the image over her shoulder later after dinner, I will think to myself, "That's not me." 
My friends and I go for a picnic in the park, we are laughing so hard that there are tears in our eyes and our stomachs are aching. The next day I will see the photo we took - upon spotting my doppelganger, I will wonder when I was replaced. 
My sister messages me during class; she’s looking through old scrapbooks and she sends me a copy of the portraits that my father insisted we take – I will barely recognise my face. 
I’ve never been captured in an image. Every camera click holds a stranger. Videos can’t be printed and puddles don’t stay still for long, 
but...  
When I walk past the forest after school tomorrow, I will find an abandoned mirror, one that is muddy and cracked, left leaning against a tree stump so that it might one day become overgrown with moss. 
My hair will be dishevelled and my clothes will be crumpled, but in that shattered reflection, I will see myself for the first time.  
When I wake up the next morning, the birds won’t be singing and the sun will burn the grass,
but there will be a muddy mirror,
sitting in the corner of my garden,
waiting just for me. 
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chayseblack118 ¡ 2 years ago
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“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Some girls said nurses, I said a runner. Then they asked again“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Some girls said actresses, I said a pilot. Once again they asked “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Most girls said role models, I said a shadow. Then it changed “What do you want to do when you grow up.” Most girls said help people, I said escape
By: Chayse Black
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