#freeverse poetry

[xxrobotessaxx]

Murder Drones Poem for Louisa Elliott Swan Song - A Free Verse Poem

You stood tall like an Obelisk always looming over me chastising me for my shortcomings What did he ever see in you?

When I was a tot, I looked up to you. The Red Queen at my pretend tea parties. Calling me your pretty little dear, It wasn't meant to last.

You treated beauty like chasing a sunset always giving chase but never catching it always gawking in the mirror always going to your appointments

Blonde, then red, onto platinum, and blonde again all while hiding your mouse brown roots and greys Hiding your cruel face with the foundation and blush It was never enough for you, was it?

You already couldn't stand me by the time I was 7 Pulling my knots and braiding with the force of a hawk Barking for me to hold still, telling me beauty was pain I thought that was the worst, no, a calm before the storm.

I turned 11, I wasn't thin enough was I? Taking away noon tea to fit your old clothes Hiding my falling and molted dove feathers in shame whilst you flaunted your fool's golden perm

I had greys by 12, which I hid to avoid your scolding. Turquoise and blue sharpies were my shield Keeping me from being pushed to look like you And yet you still put me down

Oh mother, that swan feather in your hat Was it to show to the world you were beautiful? Or was it to convince yourself you were? Since your wicked heart was hideous.

Were you jealous my drones were there for me? Were you jealous I wanted to be my own girl? Were you so jealous you pulled Father away from me? Were you jealous I was young and you weren't anymore?

Your vanity turned to power hunger. Taking it out on my drones and I. Locking me away like Rapunzel in her tower To keep up your illusion of perfection.

You enjoyed your power trip, I remember that, bruising my wrists from the chains and your grip. Only then after scolding me for the marks And making me hide them with gloves or concealer

Loved, something you insisted you were, yet I saw you push Father's advances away I saw how you treated the drones and I. There was not an ounce of love I could see.

That night of the gala, you wanted to will me away To Frumplebucket's son, so you could reap in the spoils No more little Tessa to make your greys worse. And yet you perished, we all did, from an act of your cruelty

And now, I'm living a new life, free from you. brought back by the maid drone you envied the one who took away your role of caregiver to me the jay bird who stole my heart.

When I think back, to all my memories Even with the cruel voices in my mind, Singing that I have fallen to being vain like you I do not fall prey to their words.

I am proud of who I have become now, I am proud to say I am not like you, Your vile heart wicked cloaked by your beauty fleeting Beauty that was merely in the end, just a swan song.

[yesterdayshistory]

It seems that time has me in a chokehold -

Where I am neither wholly harmed nor wholly unharmed.

Every movement hurts all the same.

I’m immobilised by an invisible grip which feels like an extension of myself rooted in the twilight; so silence throttles me and the mere prospect of occupation exhausts me.

In this realm, I’m like some bizarre mime who fails to make any motion an actuality in the real world.

Perfectly accustomed to a fatigue beyond fatigue in a way that I’m not sure I remember what it is to move freely.

[unmaskingpoetry]

aon:

I want to know every bit of you

like the crevices on each wall

holding displays of the museum 

caging me in voluntarily

I don't ever wanna leave

when you're more than just 

a one-man show of various art

I can stare at for long and never blink

I want to walk through every tour

to hear the facts over and over

and never get tired of the colors

that make up the mosaic of you

I don't ever want to go anywhere else

neither am I to only stay in the lobby

to familiarize myself with a home

that'll keep me loving your art forever. 

[cornerstoner13]

the moon - a poem

I could travel outer space and soar far away from the sun just to bring you back the moon But all you'd say is that you yearned for the stars.

✰ - k.

[sunsbleeding]

The love of your life?

You enable me when it’s fun for you, (you wanna see angels as much as I do, you said it yourself). Don’t you remember the nights in LA, the world you convinced me we created. You hurt me, betrayed me, just like my last best friend, which is where the dagger has buried itself the deepest. I feel it between my lungs when I try and fall asleep, breathing doesn’t come easy when you are newly clean and kicked like a mutt… I know you used HER words on purpose, manipulation runs through your blood, more than oxygen and platelets. Contact a nurse.

When we are alone in a world we made up, two minds existing as a single cell organism; all neon lights and hand plucked music; laughter big enough to fill the whole sky with constellations… even if they are a bit confusing to decipher… You’re telling me that was all a hoax? I delete the pictures of us, I remove myself from the playlist (your taste is pedestrian at best anyways, other than the few songs the whole world knows are good. Who doesn’t like frank ocean, Lorde, and phoebe Bridgers. Do you even know another The Mountain Goats song???).

I refuse to play pretend anymore.

When I make a mistake you take me down a peg just because you can, when you remember you’re dealing with a problem not a person, then you treat me like yesterdays garbage; rotten putrid, you don’t even know where it came from (or pretend you don’t) in order to save face in front of girls you barely know. I’m glad you got your happily ever after, with the person you told me you were only staying with to get your birthday gifts, the girl who made you a cake that you immediately told me was ugly and not instagram worthy? and all I got was a hole shaped like a girl who I thought was every beautiful thing this stupid world had to offer. But I know girls like that, and they look nothing like you, they have a beauty that holds you like a mother’s arms.

The thing is, there are good people, you’re just not one of them, you want a free score because I have the money, so go ahead take my pharmaceuticals even though you have a fucking prescription and laugh at me when I fall.

Get an education, make something of yourself, do something with your miserable life, books about wizards are only gonna get you so far, and at least now I don’t have to pretend like that’s not embarrassing …

Real love comes, and I’m starting to get a taste for it, let me wash myself of this era, this liar “people pleaser” nonsense. I have room for friends with one face, Thomas, Joey, Bo, glo, joy, Morgan, and all the people I still get to meet. You have a lot of growing to do, but may we never pretend to share the same heart beat again, I pray for the next person that gets caught in your dirty fingers, god, I hope they find the sun.

[thecloudyheart]

Light Is Lost

I hear your heart beating in my chest. I feel your touch scratching my soul so that it becomes richer for a new tomorrow.

I accuse longing of returning, although fear said the last sentence. I blame time for beginning, as usual, at an inappropriate time.

Today, when you are gone, a mist grows from me - black as lost words, an embodied regret that what is most beautiful is not always right.

Today, when you have freed yourself from the future, when tenderness has lost its value - my tears seem old, an old sob that no one will ever hear.

The hour is angry when I do not believe in my own heart; an ungraspable second when sadness takes hold of my clasped hands.

Powerless memory, finally abandon the pretense of happiness! Find fantasy in me, see the unnamed - what is nearby does not always have to be present.

The fertility of dreams makes the world worth a single sigh. The power of desire makes it worth waiting out the storm until the last glimmer of light is lost, poetry turns out to be a curse.

[fireyicexo]

I used to love you

You were my little happy thought, my whole wide world

I would get lost like a balloon gets lost in the sky

Smoking cigarettes

Thinking of you

But

Your sun turned off

I am slowly drifting away

I do not love you anymore as I used to do

I touch your hands

Mine are cold.

I don’t believe you when you say you love me and

We don’t say it anymore like we used to do.

I break in pieces.

Null and empty.

I still love you with all my heart.

You played me and flew away.

I want more than a love like this.

[amor-saca-amor]

frankly...

[lorienfae]

Dust infiltrates the crevices between hours when every minute turns to century, a sprawling tundra;

scraping of fingernails against the window glass in a billow of pensiveness —

the eyes that linger, the eyes I recall, piercing in their storm —

rain traces skin, tells me hunger is anything we'd paint it,

and I let the oxidation of thoughts wash away with the water, wash away into the serene serein.

© Anna S. 2024

[psyche-tips-the-candle]

It was always going to end this way –

Just the way it started –

Just you, alone, in your bedroom.

Staring at that closed door.

It was never going to be different –

Not noticeably different from before.

Not any better, really, not any worse.

Just you, the lamp, the door.

[yesterdayshistory]

I have apologised so many times

to so many people, and I feel like I

owe it to them all to continue apologising

until the moment I finally die.

But sorry isn’t even close enough

to what I need to be saying - it

doesn’t come close at all.

[zaneshoe01]

Indecisive

Hours pass by Don’t know what to do, so I do nothing Waste my god damn time away Guess I’m in no hurry Of course it’s got me itching Got me thinking overtime What the fuck do I do? Tryna be a poet baby, gotta live that poets life Of sitting in empty rooms wondering what to do Or gritting my teeth anytime I gotta do anything at all Professional bum with the excuse of being a writer Take…

[visionsofaselfmademan]

"Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing." —Fyodor Dostoevsky

This poem reflects a deeply personal journey I’ve been through over the past year, when I tried to fit into a version of "normal" that others expected from me. I thought maybe, just maybe, if I de-transitioned and played the part they wanted, I’d be more accepted, more loved. But in trying to conform, I felt like I was betraying the core of who I am—betraying myself. It’s a weight no one should have to carry, pretending to be someone they aren’t for the sake of approval. 

I’ve come to realize that if being true to myself makes others uncomfortable, those people aren’t worth my time or energy. I won’t live in the gilded cage of their expectations anymore. I will not betray who I am to make others happy. Being alone is far better than living in a world that demands I shrink to fit into their mold. I am who I am, and the people who love and respect me will accept that truth.

[cornerstoner13]

on the mend - a poem

All I ask is that you don’t  break me again while you are trying to build yourself up and you're on the mend

✰ - k.

[ragewrites]

February 21, Lianna Schreiber 21 / 02 / 2023

[inkandpins]

THE WAITING GAME

I've been diagnosed with a sore lump in my throat a homesickness, a lovesickness.

As the long summer days melt— I still dream of the fading wings of cicadas clinging to the boughs, seeking recognition.

But first, first, first, first— love me. For this month, I gave seventeen years Snouting through the darkness—

enrobed in that second skin [hot and close] of silence, but for the urgent clutch and scramble for Longing.

The city nights will fall quiet again as wrinkled shells drop from the branches in straight lines— are these seed pods? or dead cicadas.

We've been convinced somehow to mature in isolation. To grow alone, sing in droves, die in droves. After seventeen years—

I think I've come to terms with the fact that there will always be a ribbon of loneliness running through who I am.

Seated among friends, crying with laughter, I catch myself balancing grief—the weight

that bends the spine, with sturdy celebration. I've been coiling, writhing tight to survive the lengthening nights. The Dream is a guiltless spring.

When is it time? to wriggle out underfoot, depart the frigid dirt-womb and learn lightness. The cicadas sift the loam— knowing what they know.

It is August.

My life is going to change. I feel it.

N.C.Y. Office, August 2024