#lost poetry

[thesapphic-enbypoet]

Paper scars

I wish to be like the poets past

To have my soul barred on paper and for other to relate.

To echo the loneliness that crawled into my chest at age 11 and has been clawing its way out ever since.

But shame masks this

It mocks me for this unwelcome need.

And I laugh because what artist lived to hear their voice echoed back to them?

I laugh and throw my head back in shame.

And this rips further the gnarled scarred flesh inside of my chest

But I know it's fine because what is a poet if not a comedian

And what is a poem

If not a poorly timed joke

[lostinflorentine]

I have nothing to say other than Poetry Is A Very Serious Art Form And I Am A Very Serious Poet.

[headspacedad]

The Sea Wolf

when I was a very little kid, still in the single age digits, I found a poem I half memorized in a book at the library. 

Then, for the next thirty years or so I never saw it again, not even when I put the lines I remembered into internet search.  A few years back - I finally found it.  I still have no idea who wrote it but here it is:

The fishermen say, when your catch is done And you’re sculling in with the tide, You must take great care that the Sea Wolf’s share Is tossed to him overside.

They say that the Sea Wolf rides, by day, Unseen on the crested waves, And the sea mists rise from his cold green eyes When he comes from his salt sea caves.

The fishermen say, when it storms at night And the great seas bellow and roar, That the Sea Wolf rides on the plunging tides, And you hear his howl at the door.

And you must throw open your door at once, And fling your catch to the waves, Til he drags his share to his cold sea lair, Straight down to his salt sea caves.

Then the storm will pass, and the still stars shine, In peace-so the fisherman say- But the Sea Wolf waits by the cold Sea Gates For the dawn of another day.

[same-skies]

The connection was dead

I have to admit, I still message you, 

Even though I know it won't go through. 

I’ve always hated leaving things unsaid; 

That hasn’t changed, although the connection is dead. 

Maybe one day you’ll read them all, 

And I hope when you do, the tears don’t fall. 

But then again, I’ve told you about every day— 

The good, the bad, the challenges I’ve faced along the way. 

I told you about how I spent many nights sat awake, 

Staring at the wall, rehashing every mistake, 

And about how I picked myself up off the floor, 

Told myself that I wasn’t going to cry anymore. 

I told you about the first time I kissed someone new, 

And about how I pretended that it was still you, 

About how I no longer went to our favourite places; 

I was too scared to see you amongst the sea of faces. 

I told you about my sister’s wedding day, 

The way she looked, how my family got on okay, 

Yet I couldn’t bring myself to catch the flowers, 

And wishing you were next to me, occupied me for hours. 

I told you about the dreams that haunt my sleep, 

The promises we once made, the secrets I still keep, 

About how I found comfort in the quiet of the night, 

How I learned to fake a smile, pretend that I’m alright. 

I told you about the nights that I danced in the rain, 

How I tried to wash away the remnants of pain, 

About the books I read to escape my own mind, 

And the feeling of belonging I managed to find. 

I told you about the laughter that slowly returned, 

The lessons I lived, the wisdom I earned, 

About how I forgave myself for mistakes in the past, 

How I embraced the present, how I made each moment last. 

I told you about the strength that I discovered within, 

The battles I faced, the victories that I win. 

I learned to live without you near, 

Yet your memory remains, always crystal clear.

And if one day, you ever read the stories I’ve shared, 

I hope you realise how much I've always cared. 

Yet if these messages remain unread, 

Then that's okay, but some things had to be said. 

I told you that I would always love you, 

And that sentiment has always been true. 

Despite everything that happened, the way we came to an end, 

I'll always think about you, and I'm here if you need a friend. 

And sometimes I question why I'm still telling you this stuff, 

But it's because I still love you, and I wish that was enough. 

So if one day you do read everything I've said, 

I hope you find a way to smile at the life I've led. 

And I hope you reach out, tell me everything you've been through, 

And I'd tell you about how I'd love just one more moment with you.

[rottingangelic]

do do do

[classystudentclown]

Sometimes you have to walk through the mall to figure out life.

Introspection and strife. Deprived of basic humanity, subjected and lied to.

Like life isn't a hell of a ride.

As long as we ride.

[valentina-poem]

[tomndjerry]

The intimacy of "You still remember that?"

I remember everything about you............

[eccedentesiast-skies]

You’ve grown into someone who would have protected you as a child. And that is the most powerful move you made.

[mumblesplash]

i say if you’re gonna have the mysterious entities speak in rhyme you might as well commit (EDIT: part 2!)

(posting an unprecedented Part 1 of At Least 3 bc i actually have the entire script and most of the storyboarding for this done already)

[thecosmoswhispers]

i can turn you into poetry but i cannot make you love me.

(creds will be added in a hot sec! my bad y'all ;p)

[tojisbootycall]

please please does anyone have/know the name of that poem of a daughter yelling at her mother and it’s only two lines are “what if I become you!” “What if you become more!” I can’t find it anywhere

[lostinflorentine]

THE BOOK OF BILL FORCED ME TO PUT MY OWN SILLY CODE BOOK OUT ON EBOOK SOMETHING THAT I TOTALLY HAVEN'T BEEN PUTTIN' OFF OR ANYTHING,,,, AND NOW I AM GONNA THROW IT AT ALL Y'ALL

SYNOPSIS IS THAT IT IS A BOOK OF HORROR POETRY WITH A STORY UNDERNEATH IT

BOOM BACK COVER

A few of my fave poems from the book!

Spooky! But the vibes can also go wildly into body horror too! TW: TEETH HORROR

I ALSO APPARENTLY REFUSE TO STICK TO ONE STYLE OF POETRY, WOOHOO! I blame Alex Hirsch for the way that I am

Shoot, I messed up on this one- Holdonwhoputthatthere

AND MORE!

138 pages of COMPLETELY NORMAL poetry!

Now In Ebook Form!

Ko-Fi Here

Etsy Here

Or If You Prefer Something More Traditional We Also Do Paperback Over At BarnesAndNoble!

Pleasewhyhasntitstoppedraining????

[egophiliac]

do skully have pokemon?

Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.

(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)

[feral-ballad]

Sayat Nova, from Anthology of Armenian Poetry, ed. & tr. by Diana Der Hovanessian and Marzbed Margossian; "My request"

[rottingangelic]