Some problems
Cannot be solved with money
Do not have a clear cause
Do not hide behind words
Some problems
Appear out of nowhere
They live right where we do
Like furniture or crockery
On the table or in the sideboard
Or like the view from the window
On a clear day, or at dawn
When winter sets in
Summer days will be frozen
In the photo archive of years gone by
Memories will flood back
And there are no problems
Some problems, fortunately
Disappear of their own accord
Without anyone’s involvement
Like snowflakes melting in the air.
The artist is absent, i guess i killed her off. Built her, just to break her- like a ceramic cup in the decor. A sway and the pieces fall, broken down in chunks of her pain. In the story of everything, the art suffers- tight ship, bad weather- nothing helps. There's no shore to go to. You stay with the wind, flock with the waves like a clueless bird, hoping someday you'll reach a comfort of a place you get to call home. I didn't feed her soul- with words full of love, hate, sad, happy- all she can feel is a hole, in her life where the content used to be. Where the quill-and-ink rested along with a page, ready to be scribbled, ready to be filled with her mind's rage. The ink bleeds once or not at all. It's tiring, having to walk in the spring season, fresh air, new hopes different dreams and yet feeling like the fall.
Every step she takes, every mistake she makes, all the roadblocks that make her feel nothing at all. Carnations over her gazettes, no scriptures, no memories to recall. It has faded into nothing yet she bleeds it somehow. The writer is absent, I think I've killed her off. Clueless in her own world somehow.
Left behind like the wind
May be not too far away
left behind like the wind
Like the moon light shadows me
Everywhere I go
There is a piece of agony
That follows me
Left behind like the wind
A stream that rushes in my body
Not knowing what to do
Fireflies dance in my head
yet no light in my mind
Left behind like the wind
Where the stone is stuck deep inside
Even a single leaf so still, not to move
as the leaf of life sleeps upon my lips
Left behind like the wind
There are days when my capacity for anguish runs thin
I can’t grok suffering as deeply as once I did,
In those carefree days of work and timelessness
Lacking the necessary sense of direction to ask
Is this place where I find myself truly mine?
I’d gladly rehash now this desultory vision
To fill the desperate need of balance and calmness
But it always occurs too late to be changed.
Who can tell why the autumn brings this anxiety
In a hindsight, what looks like a budget movie, poorly directed
As if I’m passing some young guy
On a shady street, in a lunch hour
In whom I would never recognize myself
With whom I don't have a word to share.
blank stares
streaming tears
the tip of the pen
piercing my skin
Why am I doing this?
I know this is wrong.
I know I'm going to be mad.
I know I'm going to hate what's left.
So why?
I need to feel something
when I can't feel anything.
so the pen
scratches the surface.
heartache
pen goes deeper.
sadness
scratch marks.
anger
blood.
Why?
Why do I do it?
Why can't I use other methods?
I wrote this poem right?
Why can't I do that?
I need to feel something
I need to feel pain
It's what I deserve
So pen scratches cover my arm
I have to hid them now
hide the evidence
"nothing's wrong"
"I'm okay" "I'm fine"
hide the evidence
I'm not hurting
and no one would care if I was
so why would I share?
I need to feel something
anything
aren't there other ways
so why do I choose the pen
time and time again
the pen
the scratches
the blood
the scars
the pen
showing my pain
disappered and covered
by my sleeve
I’m not kind not humble not soft
I don’t need you to like me
I don’t need you to talk to me
I dont need you to smile
I don’t need you to cry either
Stay alert stay alert stay alert
You wont know who’s in front of you
Until the day comes
you think that I’ll forget everything?
VERY FUNNY
you think that i wont care ?
HAHAHA
You think that I’ll never notice?
STUPID
you think that i’ll stay blind forever ?
COMPLETE BULL
you think that I’ll leave before get to taste you back ? ??
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
STAY ALERT STAY ALERT
I remember I fell through that wooden floorboard.
I was careless where I stepped, and the weight of my mistake made me fall right through.
I remember the embarrassment I felt... it nearly broke my self-esteem.
I can hear them use their traitorous tongues.
I remember I walked carefully over those wooden floorboards.
I see their eyes glare and hear the whispers of people who judge me for treading so cautiously.
I am wary of what they are saying. ..of what they may think.
I walk confidently around that wooden floor.
I am aware of their judgements and their hateful glares.
I don't care what they think.
I no longer have to tread so carefully.
I can run free.
I remember...
I was tying my shoes
Wrapped with thoughts of death
Wondered if the stone beneath me
Would appreciate the human dire
Splashed over it like ketchup
And no, it wasn’t thoughts of suicide
For I know death is not really what I want
Maybe I do write letters sometimes
About my last day on this ground,
but they're just words caused by pain
And yet I can’t help but wonder
If murderers do feel fear when they kill
I wonder if the sin of lying is equal to killing
broken souls and broken hearts,
the sleepless ones who look at torn stars,
the twinkling lights that blink afar,
city lights blurred with blinding cars,
are all befriended by the dreamless faces,
that look like lost and stolen art;
estranged glances and estranged words,
the sound of silence they've always heard,
fragrances of the night that are so absurd,
keep alive the sleepless ones who are lured,
by the dark and scary midnight,
when the sky bears no birds;
fluttering curtains and fluttering wind chimes,
the blazing noise that seeps in from the outside,
sleepless ones try their best to hide,
but Oh! It's already twilight,
the sun and moon sit beside,
while sleepless ones look at committed crimes;
a new dawn and a new day,
it has unwillingly arrived,
another night with no dreams,
another dark time where past screams,
when the moon hears no cries,
it means the sleepless ones have died.
She sees in bearded baba
a radiating white light
follows him with trust and peace
alone in the bed meets him
for mantra in the ear
only to discover
a rapist narcissist
reciting his ode to sex
in three-word phrases
all these candles tell me to die,
but one is my wish to live
The strongest rise with
Echoes behind them; no
Legend ever truly won alone.
Every victory carries
Fingerprints of those who
Refused to let them fall; no
Won alone.
When uncertainty tried to rewrite
Their name, someone
Whispered strength back into
Their bones; they never won
Alone.
Even giants leaned on quiet
Warriors, the ones who held
Them steady when storms won
Alone.
Greatness is a rapport, not a
Solo; every step forward was
Carried by hands that won
Alone.
Michaela speaks truth to legacy:
No hero, no survivor, no Legend
Even won Alone.
woke at midnight,
As the clock struck right at two.
I felt the darkness of my room turn crimson red,
As dreadful thoughts grew heavy in my head.
I felt a shiver run down my spine,
And my blood turn cold as ice.
I felt ghosts lingering in the dark,
And my body go limp far too fast.
I felt myself losing control,
Even in my sleep.
I thought it was a dream,
But that eerie sound was far too deep.
And I found myself losing a game
I thought I had never lost.
As a shadow came far too close,
I felt my breath hitch in my throat.
Was all this fate,
Or a mystery begging to be solved?
Then I felt a ghost welcome itself into my room.
I got up, expecting only darkness,
But found...
A lingering mark.
Eye strain and eye reluctance.
I have an envelope of gratitude.
A hazard,
A puddle of soap scum.
Turns out- my brain is simmering.
Like dead tea.
Or mustard blah.
Turns out- my brain has been condemned.
They say your brain has cells.
Catastrophic cells.
This was mine to hold
now it rests within your hands
take it where you choose
I release the reins to you
yet my fingerprints remain.
I leave you the key
hanging from an iron chain
let your will decide
which way and when to turn it
you know which way I would go.
I have said enough
old advice has stained the page
my will has faltered
I can't unring the bronze bell
nor choose which echoes to wake.
The secret has flown
once my tongue unlatched its cage
two shadows now fall
one behind the mouth that spoke
one before the ear that heard.
Freedom bruises hands
when offered in heavy chains
gift-wrapped as free will
demanding they themselves choose
what each cannot bare to lose.
I pass the ember
hand to hand in stark silence
none can keep the flame
alight abandoned in shame
when both wills are disowned.
Anxiety Categories
Definition | What is Anxiety in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
nervousness, restlessness, apprehension, suffering, uncertainty, disquiet, unease, misgiving, mistrust, angst, jitters, doubt, uneasiness, dread, misery, suspense, trouble, panic, concern, distress, foreboding, heebie jeebies, goose bumps, pins and needles, nail biting,