Stream of Consciousness

My Precious Wind.....
Don't remember, when I started, feeling you, anyway, there's no need, to think about it, as I feel you right now, so my precious wind,
By P.A.Vinura Jayasanka3 years ago in Poets
My Side. Content Warning.
Why do you want to be me? Is that projection I see? So intimidated and jealous But you claim that it's me With all seeing eyes, it's time to see
By Lolly Vieira3 years ago in Poets
Kalopsia. Top Story - February 2024.
Why are you looking for me? You left me, remember? Yet thoughts of me bedevil you Is it guilt? Is it remorse? ~~~~~ You try to catch my eye As I weave in and out of the crowd Surreptitiously watching you ~~~~~ You're becoming delirious Uncertain if I'm real Or hallucinatory I seem to be omnipresent ~~~~~ It is so messed up Because there you stand In front of your bride Engulfed by thoughts of me Amidst your wedding ~~~~~ I laugh in exultation
By Dharrsheena Raja Segarran3 years ago in Poets
Guiding Light in the Darkness
In the quaint village of Glenwood, nestled between rolling hills and whispering streams, there lived a girl named Lily. With eyes as bright as the morning sun and a heart as pure as the dew-kissed petals of a rose, she was beloved by all who knew her.
By sudip tarafder3 years ago in Poets
You-6
Where is four Oh, it is locked in a drawer Waiting to be opened How long will it stay there We will just have to wait and see
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
Ground to Dust
Licking at the facade Worshiping a nameless god Only to realize All efforts will be forgot Break your back all you want
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
A Poet or a Journalist
I want to be an author, I want to be a writer, I want to be published, and I want to be known. I want to see my work on bookshelves and see how far I've really grown. Not just my book shelf of course. I see this everyday, I want to scream until I'm hoarse.
By Brandon Phillips3 years ago in Poets
Exposed
I write in slow-motion with the same anxiety in my pocket that I carry to a party, or school. To work, or your bed. You can not tell
By Sandra Matos3 years ago in Poets
Echoes of Empathy
The balance of the heart and mind. In the dance of light and dark, we find, A chance to mend, to keep on spinning. With every dawn, a new beginning,
By Pam Zee3 years ago in Poets
You Are Not a Sin
You are not a sin. Now, that line rumbles through my spine, decaying old scripts that were woven into my being. I have held hands with the devil and fell in love with God's angels.
By g. whiles3 years ago in Poets
Shatterproof, I wish I was
Shatterproof "I wish I was" S c a t t e r e d charred ashes these wounds are my own Splatterproof "If only I was" D r i p
By Paul Stewart3 years ago in Poets
Bone of a Beat. Content Warning.
Bone of a Beat. I tap the xylophone ribs. The skull head drum keeps the rhythm. A bone flute whistling high. The bone guitar wailing chords.
By Seashell Harpspring 3 years ago in Poets