i wish you could hear my voice, even as i cry at my desktop
Spoiler! :
i wish you could hear my voice, even as i cry at my desktop, no, i’m not asking to hear yours, although i’d love to. i just want you to hear me utter, one sentence, one word, one syllable, or maybe i’ll just be talking to the empty summer breeze, like before.
i wish you could feel my hands, even as i bury my face in them, no, i’m not asking to feel yours, although i'd love to, i just selfishly want you to feel my warmth– whatever's left of me, and realize, that maybe, there's something valuable in the remnants of what you left.
i wish you could see my eyes, even as i drown in my self-pity, no, i'm not asking to see yours, although i'd love to, i just want you to see this pain that you've given me i've given myself, and then you'll comfort me, and all will be forgiven, perhaps i still hope to cling to you, to forcefully take the joy that you've given to another.
i wish you could give me what you took back, though i know it will only burden you, after all, what is love but self-indulgence? maybe beneath this myriad of tears that i've shed is only a greedy pig, maybe humans should never feel warmth, lest we burn ourselves to ashes, but i still would like you to see my smile once more
i wish i could stand before you, perhaps then, we’ll see eye to eye, and i might find closure, and we may part ways but is it too much to hope for something real? we can take off our masks and see the ugliness inside and finally, perhaps i’ll stop shedding my tears at my desktop “no.”
i wish you could taste my pain, perhaps then i'll feel like i've gotten my revenge i thought this was love? why are you now my enemy? but then as i see you cry i begin to cry to myself i thought this was love? why are we both in such pain? but perhaps these tears are just fake, and i'm just crying just so that you can see.
i wish i could hear your voice
just one last time, even as i cry at my desktop, burying my face in my hands, drowning in my self-pity, hiding behind this clever mask that i wear,
(perhaps then i'll remember what it was like?) (to feel the empty summer breeze) (and wish that time would stop) (and nothing would change) (and nothing mattered) (it was just us) (or just me) (at least)
(but we both know there was nothing there at all)
variations on a theme of sadness
Spoiler! :
what color are your tears? do you ever see them running down your face, and you grab them, thinking ‘now everything makes sense,’ ‘now i can prove that i’m sad’ or maybe that’s just me
some people’s tears are deep blue they cry because they’re sad, and they’re sad because they cry they’re honest with themselves, isn’t that so wonderful? but really, that’s just them
some people’s tears are fiery red after a surge of emotion, the tears follow up in a storm they cry when they’re angry, they cry when they’re sad they cry because they hate the world isn’t that so wonderful? of course, that’s just them
some tears can be bright yellow people cry when they’re happy, when they feel joy maybe after a particularly emotional book or an amazing accomplishment isn’t that so wonderful? shut up, that’s just them
some people’s tears are pitch black they’re just like me, they lie to themselves and try to make sense of their emotions with something concrete and grab their tears to observe and examine them just to prove that it’s real that they’re actually sad that i’m actually sad am i actually sad? don’t listen, it’s just me
what color are your tears? do you ever look in the mirror while you cry and observe them as they run down your face? perhaps your tears are transparent you don’t even know what color your tears are so you read poems about their color and stare apathetically at the ramblings of a liar go away, it’s only you
yet the nostalgia fails to return me to my past
Spoiler! :
t/w death
i was cleaning my room today, isn’t that so great? you used to always bug me about that, but now i do it every day
i found an old pair of mittens, perhaps purchased many winters ago i’m sure you bought it for me it didn’t matter at the time
the mittens are so small meant for a me of many years before i never really needed it the house was always so warm
it was placed in an old cookie box, you always talked about reusing those instead of wasting money i make lots of money now
i got mad at you that day “Why can’t you get me a normal present?” “Why can’t you be a normal mom?” but you still kept those mittens
i never meant to say that, to hurt you i wish i could see you, to talk to you and show you my hands wrapped in these wonderful mittens
i tried those mittens on today they’re not my size anymore i wish you were here to buy another pair for me after all, it’s a little chilly at your graveside
Dreams are a gateway to our past, portal to worlds beyond human grasp. In slumber's embrace, we journey afar to realms where spirits and memories are.
The departed ones, they return to us again conjured by our mind, a fleeting space within. Their presence is felt and their voices heard, though in reality, their faces have blurred.
Cravings and longing from daily lives are keys to portals when night arrives. Time bends and twists, memories entwined, as our minds create a world undefined.
In dreams, we find a moment's Solace, as we embrace their heavenly presence. Conversations are held and hearts renewed, In dreams, the veil of death is subdued.
Feeling their vulnerable heartbeat again we're reminded of our mistakes and the pain. But the dawn breaks and dreams fade away, leaving us again with a bittersweet dismay.
But it's not the last time we'll meet, we know, a new portal opens, as whispers of night grow. Dawn will come again to make the spirit go away we hold on to hope, for another rendezvous someday.
Their essence lingers, though dreams may wane, in our hearts, their love will forever remain.
Last edited by Hkumar on Wed Nov 08, 2023 7:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Hi It’s been raining here Can I talk to you for a sec
Mom loved “Can I talk to you for a sec”
I walked down to the dock yesterday Remember the dock? And there was a duck there
Mom loved “And there was a duck there”
Yeah it was pretty close too I didn’t want to scare it away So I just kinda stood there And thought
Mom questioned “And thought”
I wasn’t done >:( I thought about how unafraid the duck seemed It didn’t even flinch when I walked up Which was weird bc normally the ducks get scared But she just watched me
Mom loved “But she just watched me”
Yeah it was nice And I thought about what she was thinking about too I bet she was happy to see the rain
Mom laughed at “I bet she was happy to see the rain”
It was weird though Bc she was the only duck Like I couldn’t see any other ducks She was alone
Mom disliked “She was alone”
Yeah :( I just kind of smiled at her and then walked to the edge of the dock And looked out at the lake And I thought about Things But then!
Mom questioned “But then!”
I’m typing one sec I hear this weird noise behind me Kind of like flip flops going really fast And I turn around and its the duck She’s running like Super eager And then dives in the water
Mom laughed at “Super eager”
I’m kind of worried though
Mom questioned “I’m kind of worried though”
I never saw her come up
Mom disliked “I never saw her come up”
Maybe she did somewhere else I guess Or maybe she’s still swimming underwater Or maybe Idk I left after a while I watched the bubbles But I never saw her again It was weird Anyways what time are you coming on Saturday? 9:00?
Mom liked “9:00?”
Oh great Maybe we can go to the dock
Mom loved “Maybe we can go to the dock”
I have to go now I have Something Looking forward to seeing you soon :)
author: starshipgirl title: summer whisperings and autumn wisdom
Spoiler! :
fall is coming. i see her in the red, orange, and yellow that is slowly overtaking the leaves,
hear her song through the wind, in the silent footsteps behind me on the sidewalk as i pause to notice a fallen leaf.
fall is everywhere, so fast, but not soon enough. and i see that summer is protesting in all of the wilting flowers, and hear
her crying when the last petals fall to the ground, in a way that makes me wonder what she wants us to know. every time
i recognize her voice, it's already too late.
but fall is gently nudging me, telling me to forget-we learned enough from the sun, and now it is time to know the rain.
she/her————pro-life————Christian————climber of rocks, trees, and rooftops----reader of poetry, Antoine de Saint Exupery, Pam Munoz Ryan, and Anthony Doerr "She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain." -Louisa May Alcott
Family from far away get the opportunity to be together
❤
Author: Rose Title: Two Worlds
Spoiler! :
Two Worlds often combine First, where dreams freely shine
A world where magic paints the sky And happy endings are not just a goodbye
The other world, where reality unfolds Where life’s true stories are told
In the dream world, light never grows faint And everything is adorned with a beautiful paint
In the realm where life’s truth have their say, however It is inevitable to strive through challenges forever
Though one may seem all fancy and fair The other holds lessons that make us aware
Yet these worlds, hand in hand Shaping the truth of who you are, distinct. ❤
“It is always sad when someone leaves home, unless they are simply going around the corner and will return in a few minutes with ice cream sandwiches.” - Lemony Snicket
when i was a child, i dreamed of catching a cloud in a jar. i wanted to jump out of a plane into the cumulus, and scoop off a piece for myself. i wanted to keep it on my shelf, and look at it swirl. but now i know that it's just mist, tiny crystals of ice floating in the sky. i could never keep it in a jar, and my dreams are unreachable.
title: a drizzling mist after a pouring rain author: momonster
Spoiler! :
the sky still mists as i step outside, dampening my clothing. it's dark and calm, and it feels like a dream or a memory long-forgotten. it's like time stopped, and the world is taking a breath before continuing its journey. the tree leaves drip onto my head as i veer to avoid a puddle, and the streetlamps look like little clouds, highlighting every minuscule droplet surrounding them. this time is simple, with nothing complex to try to understand. so i walk, breathe, and enjoy this little bit of life.
For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace. Romans 6:14 NIV
never apologize for standing up for what you believe in.
previously MomoandAppa, LordMomo, MomoMajesty, and dancingontheclouds
sometimes i swear you still see me in the sand you sink into at the beach, your sunburned skin remembering spain, remembering the rain not falling mainly on the plain but on slippery hill streets just steps from the sea. does the salt taste like me?
am i stubborn as a stain of rioja wine you scrubbed and scrubbed off your pamplona-white shirt but it stays no matter what you say, you can't scare me away and now you're afraid you're going insane the way i did that spring i was sick but i thought myself a sage?
do i stray into your bored seconds the way you settle into mine, the nonsensical speculation sprouting in your mind: what if i had loved her the way she claimed to love me?
it's strange to speak of it, but it doesn't have to make sense to stick to you and refuse to slip away.
all i think about are standard deviations
Spoiler! :
what is the mean of life at 32? statistics say i should be married now, have a kid or 2.5, be several sizes smaller, have kissed more people, have wasted less years in school for a dream that never made sense for me.
some deviations are standard, acceptable. my IQ was several deviations above the mean expected for an eight year old, and that meant I would always be the good kind of outlier.
but mine are far from standard. the secret twelve-year fight with a disorder that makes men tremble at the mere name, bipolar. the constant balancing acts of medications and sleep and trying not to fall apart over perfectly average work weeks at my blessedly average job.
if i am below the bell curve, it is not for lack of trying. though i can't imagine a mean life is a nice one. is crawling up the bell curve to reside with the masses the most i can hope for?
this is not a poet’s depression
Spoiler! :
this is not a poet’s depression. there is no melodramatic lament for a love lost (though I am purposefully avoiding the cave of wonder- ing if i can even love at all). there is no flowering nostalgia for some long-gone halcyon days (even the sweetest ambrosia memories have bitter aftertastes). there is just a too-large body trapped between two monitors and a phone all day and then too exhausted (though i have no right to be, with no kids or husband to mind) to bother with living when I’m free (on nights and weekends like an old cellphone plan).
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci
I wait and wait under a pile of shoes for someone who might notice me. Maybe a moment, just a glance before they walk away.
I swear it's not me. But maybe it is. Did I ever say something wrong? It's hard to tell from under here, when they never bring me out to play.
Maybe my colors are faded from being in the sun so long. Maybe I'm dull and gray. I guess that's why I'm all alone each and every day.
They took me out once or twice. That's all they ever did. And they never talked. Not to me. Even when I had something to say.
Outside, it snows, but never rains. I watch the bleak cold from inside where it is warm. I miss the colors of the flowers and wish it was May.
A week later they pick me up. Finally! After so long. They rush me outside and I see the sky! So... dark? I must have forgotten since I could not see from where I used to lay.
It's drizzling, but I don't care. I'm held above the crowd. I feel as light as a bird and before I know it I'm drifting higher into the clouds as I fly away.
The wind caught my outstretched tips and decided to take me far. I cannot see where I was before and I know I'll never find my way.
Maybe it doesn't matter. They never seemed to care. They only ever held me high above their heads. Warm and dry while I got soaking wet. And I get the feeling they never wanted me to stay.
"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." ~Dr. Seuss
Not me being certain I had submitted a poem only to realize...I hadn't. Whoops!
Author: Hijinks Title: gauzey
Spoiler! :
there is a strange limbo in the time before a goodbye. the anticipation of something i know cannot be warded off builds up in the heavy floor of my belly. if friendship is a fabric, i haven't decided how to take care of it just yet -- should i pull at the fraying edges so that it's gone before the goodbye has a chance to take it from me or should i absorb every detail until my eyes my ears my nose my mouth are full: the threading, the discolouration, the smell, the parallel feeling against my finger pads. the overstimulation of all these senses will make the goodbye so much louder, so much more breaking when it comes crashing down, i know. but it feels faithless to let this slip away into a jumble of yarn and knots. years later i might fancy myself an anthropologist of sorts and claim i have reconstructed our history -- but really i will have woven in the accumulation of years of misremembering. will our fate be any different if i desperately try to preserve us in the last moment before we leave? we will always unweave eventually. there are buttons in my belly and i feel sick.
When you're faced with something you don't understand, I think the most natural thing but also least interesting thing you can be is afraid.
Great news! The 'Best of YWS' Poetry Collection is in it's final editing stages and will soon be available to you by the end of this month! We have curated 25 of your own fabulous poems and are so excited for you to read the final product.
The poems have been selected, the edits have been made, and now we are in our final editing and designing stages for the collection! Soon you will have a PDF version of the "Best of YWS Poetry Collection" that you'll be able to email, print, mail, set on your bookshelf, give to your grandma, hide in a library, whatever your heart intends! How cool is that?
To celebrate the collection the editors would love to host a little reading / pad party celebration to give you a chance to celebrate the collection's launch along with the site... details to be announced very soon! There might be multiple days for it!
Watch this thread for more info! Also if your desired author name has changed since you submitted an entry please send me a PM asap so we can make sure that is reflected in the final version.
you should know i am a time traveler & there is no season as achingly temporary as now
'Hush, hush!' I whispered; 'people can have many cousins and of all sorts, Miss Cathy, without being any the worse for it; only they needn't keep their company, if they be disagreeable and bad. — Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights
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