Flower Crown by Deveree Extein
Instead of waiting
for someone to
send me flowers
I am going to pick
them for myself
and weave them
into a crown
I will be my
own queen
Flower Crown
Tag: poetry blog
Not Broken
Not Broken by John Roxbury
As long as I have life to use,
I'll not decry my every bruise,
I'll not keep track of every crack,
Or rave about my every scratch,
I'll not pretend each day is winter,
Bemoaning over every splinter.
For all the lives that have been spent,
Acquired a fair amount of dents,
And not a life I've seen thus far,
Had fewer than a hundred scars,
And I have yet to meet a soul,
Who had a heart that was still whole.
I may be chipped, or scuffed, or battered,
Weathered, or scored, or torn, or tattered,
But 'til from sleep I can't be woken,
I'll not accept that I am broken.
If I’ve a lung that is still breathing,
And half a heart that is still beating,
I bid my lips these words be spoken,
"'Til I am dead I'll not be broken".
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Poetic Prance
By Jay Higgins
The poetic prance of the dancing night
Now nestled in that nautic sky
Where stars explode in silent mode
In the undertone of sea spray foam
Of dreams to dream and what’s to be
Of who we are and how we see
This poetic prance of all that’s seen
Is simply all that’s lived and been
And in between the dirt and sun
I’ve swum in the love of the silent one
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Sarah Pletcher Poetry
Remember Me
Poetry by Sarah Pletcher
I was called home to gain my wings.
It was scary on Earth.
So full of darkness.
Thank you for being my light.
I'm no longer hurting.
I've been set free from all of the pain.
I put up the best fight I could.
And all along you stood right by.
I'm sorry for losing.
But it will be okay
Tears will fall
Eyes will dry
Hearts will break
Souls will heal
All in time
Truthfully, nothing will ever be the
same.
But please go on living life.
To the fullest extent.
Full of Laughter, Joy and Memories
It my not feel like it
But we've never been apart
I'm right there with you.
Forever in your heart.
Remember me
As you look in the night sky
You were once my shining star
Now, let me be yours.
The love I had for you
Still pouring out freely
As a ravishing waterfall
Remember me
In the field of flowers
The beauty of growth
I'm no longer hurting.
I've let go
It's your turn now.
So, please let go.
Let me forever rest inside your soul.
Remember me
I'll forever be alive.
Go on now, go live your life.
The Fog
Poetry by Sarah Pletcher
Help.
I'm drowning
The demons breathe
in my oxygen
and let out fog.
I can't breathe.
I can't see.
I'm trapped
Can anyone hear me?
Help Help
My worlds falling dark
I'm fading away into the fog
These demons may win.
Where is the sun?
I long for her comforting glow.
All color has fled
Black and white fills my eyes
Reach in and grab my hand
Tell me I'm not alone
Pull me back.
Out of the fog
Into the light.
Remind me
That I can
Fly.
I need you now
More than ever
So please don't let go.
Don't let me drown.
You can't leave me here
Not right now.
Believe in me.
So I can too
I'm just a little bent
Not entirely shattered.
With a little support
I can hold it all together.
I need to heal
But sometimes
We all need a little
Help
Can you be mine?
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Our Love Was
Our Love Was by Joanne Lee
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Poetry by Karissa
My Heart is an Envious Prisoner at the Party
Written by Karissa Seibel
Stealth and her sisters have taken
residence at the cul-de-sacs of my nerves.
They held house warmings,
let the hot air humble itself until
it sank down upon the guests’ shoulders
as a cool, refreshing breeze,
served hors d’oeuvres for every thought of their origin.
When you look me in my eyes tonight,
you’ll find it useful to know my envy
for the ones who aren’t afraid to dance
at the party, the ones who bulldoze
the properties of preconceived panic
and stomp the dust into the ground while
luscious laughter sings between their lips.
I have tried all my life to let myself out
of my meaty enclosure, but
there’s a reason they call it your rib cage,
for how can a heart never, at least once,
feel like a prisoner?
When I tell you I do not wish to go out tomorrow,
know that I am not surrendering my plight,
but I am finding a loophole -
a place where I can unlace the corset,
let myself bulge as I ooze a sugary sap of porcelain melting,
of nature in its nonjudgmental air.
When I confess my love for you,
you might find it monumental,
for I have never been this wide open.
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Not Tonight
By Amber Jasinski
She wonders what it would be like to swallow all her pills and fall asleep.
Thoughts darker than the night fill her mind. Pulling her from the feeble grasp of sleep.
Long days of silence broken only by his taunting undulating inhalations and exhalations.
A now-stranger lies a million miles away across the king sized bed.
The mattress where love was once made now presses firmly against her back.
Still and cold.
Dead.
She drifts lightly off holding the pill bottle tight in her palm.
Security blanket - she knows she could make it all go away so easily.
But she also believes she deserves this.
Pennants for a sin that left her broken and corrosive.
Doomed to destroy what remains of herself and anyone foolish enough to love her.
Trapped in the purgatory of her memory -
Heart racing her eyes open wide, searching.
The weighted blanket wrapped heavily across her in a sad embrace that does not erase the heavy absence of his arm across her body.
Shadows play on the dark walls like his fingers once danced along her skin tracing her curves.
She feels nothing as she runs her own fingers about the forgotten canvas of her body.
She returns the pill bottle to her nightstand and expertly finds the cold hard handle of the pocket knife she keeps hidden “for emergencies” next to her bed.
Dreaming of the warmth of feeling something - anything - as the blade faintly glides over the scar on her left wrist.
“I’m so sorry,” she pleads into the darkness.
She could finally sleep.
Her secrets never spoken would die with her like all the things she should have but never could bring herself to say.
He’d wake and find her as cold and hollow as he’d said she was these last few years.
It would still be painfully quiet.
The bed would feel just as empty.
She returns the blade to its hiding place.
It would be so easy.
But she can’t.
Not tonight.
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Poetry by Pranav
The Crescent Moon in the Night Sky
Poetry by Pranav Rustagi
Just like every Saturday night
I was again writing about him
Adding one more chapter to
how he introduced the moon to me
//
I have always sought for darkness
Maybe that is reason why
"No moons" used to be my favourite
Until when he introduced the moon to me
//
I was thinking all this
Lost, staring at the most beautiful thing
Crescent moon it was,
And I remembered when I used to ask him
Why he chose me?
And just like always, he would say
"You're the crescent moon in my night sky"
I would always end up thinking
What a weird amour I had got
And he would chuckle and say
"One day you will understand"
I was so lost in my darkness
That I never understood what he meant
But tonight I did
In the night sky with billions of stars
I always thought that I was incomplete
Full of flaws and imperfections
But he saw right through my walls
Crescent moon
Though it seems incomplete
But it's the same moon
Which would soon glow on the full moon
I was perfect, just never realised
With tears in my eyes tonight
I finally understood what he meant
When he caressed my forehead
When it hit the dusk...
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Yellow
A poem by Olivia Weeden
You are yellow to me.
Sunny, happy, bright.
But sometimes,
A little too bright.
A little piercing.
A little blinding.
Yellow speaks of caution,
To slow down.
But sometimes,
We see a yellow light
And go even faster.
A little too fast.
In the right shades,
In the right amounts,
In the right places,
You are calming.
Reminding me of how real
And vibrant everything is.
Keeping me grounded
In yellow.
Yellow is beautiful.
In the right light,
You are golden,
You are soft.
In the right light,
You are harsh,
You are reflective
Of everything I don't want to see
In myself.
You are a highlighter.
Pointing out the information
I need most.
But sometimes
I get a bit carried away
With my highlighter.
Sometimes I look down,
And an entire page is yellow.
You are overwhelming and
Underwhelming and not
A single bit
Too yellow. Not
A single bit
Too much.
Because you are you.
You are yellow.
And you are wonderful,
And scary,
And bright,
And soft,
And perfect.
And I love you,
And I thank you,
For being yellow.
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Affinity
A poem by Ryan Flett
At night
the moon
pulls at something
in your blood
like it does
the tides,
an embrace
by the heavens
that sense
the stardust
in your veins.
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