Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
Young, when we met, I was only fifteen You were just now home from the service handsome, fun, and you were a bit nervous We were engaged when I was but sixteen
By Denise E Lindquistabout a year ago in Poets
Your first breath in the room says more than any promise ever could. You stand like a question I have wanted to answer for years,
By Printique Studiosabout a year ago in Poets
—- I’m tipsy and I want pink bedsheets and braces and severance payments again. gums always bleeding, sweating through my skin. the fever at my core needs to be extinguished. and I need to be adopted. my memories need a new ram. my horns need to grow in. but I’m just pillow defenseless, my nails always bitten down, jagged. my scars still itching. permanent nerve damage. my words need to vomit up and out from my esophagus. but I just keep swallowing them in. I need the world to end like it did in 2012. a new armageddon. I need cake with my feelings. to find that moment when your gaze turned away, when I lost control of the plot, and my soaking wet sheets turned into poetry.
By h.a.laineabout a year ago in Poets
The shadows drift at night, when silence owns the room, at 2 AM when hearts recall what once had bloomed. A melody still hums,
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Poets
Verse 1 She had ten years on him when the county fair rolled in, Silver in her hair, sunlight on his skin. She gave him a spare key, space on her dresser,
By Julie O'Hara - Author, Poet and Spiritual Warriorabout a year ago in Poets
Verse 1 He keeps his Bible on the nightstand, pages worn to Ruth, Stained glass on a Sunday, he’s a man who loves the truth.
[Verse] You trace the silence like it's loud Your hands speak words They’re unbowed A whisper written on my skin I feel it pull
[Verse] Your hands are loud Your lips stay quiet Tracing maps on my skin like a riot No words No sound Just sparks that fly
Verse 1 It’s late and the moon draws lines on your face, Quiet like a secret we don’t need to say. Blankets breathing slow, clock hands barely move,
here is a moon boon a beam gleam it seems I almost brought it to you on a silver spoon but I balanced it on my head instead
By Rowan Finley about a year ago in Poets
I held the photo with shaky hands— a child frozen, eyes wide, mouth sewn shut with secrets. Time had yellowed the corners,
By Baby Josieabout a year ago in Poets
I love you in strength, spirit, fire, light, and soul, Even though you're not here, I will love you as I live, die, and grow old,
By Carol Ann Townendabout a year ago in Poets
