Best Drips Poems


Premium Member Pain Drips

It seems at times we play sad parts.
Dancing on the edge of obscurity.
Music played on broken harps.

One step away from insanity.
We cling with a fervored grip.
How we hold on is a mystery.

We try not to drink yet take a sip.
The flavor of remorse intoxicates.
From our minds the liquid drips.

The judge and jury exonerates.
They cry this guilt was never yours
Still this knowledge doesn't satiate.
 
For the demons aren't trapped behind locked doors
Their power is infused within our pores



For Freddie's Terza Rima contest.

Premium Member The rain of shattered dreams drips, like the tears of fallen stars

The rain of shattered dreams drips, like the tears of fallen stars,
Each drop is a sigh of my soul, weeping in the depths of nature,
In the eternal waltz of the raindrops, weaving with the day’s sadness,
A song of shadows, senselessly pouring onto the silent earth.
Each drop, a reflection of my unease, in the endless rain,
A melancholic hymn, shifting between whisper and torrent,
Through which the day’s sorrow pours out in vain onto the vast earth,
Rain and more rain, a ballad of endless weeping.
The drops intertwine in fluid lace, veils of ancient sadness,
A hidden song of pain in the murmur of water caressing the earth,
The earth eagerly absorbs the tears of a drowned life,
For the rain always cries, a silent epic of flowing unease.
Under the bronze sky, my soul melts, reflected in every drop,
Each one a lost dream, a hope dispersed in the twilight,
Unfolding an unfulfilled destiny, in a world whispering forgotten legends,
In the unending rain, my story is lost in oblivion.
The dawn rises, but the rain remains, a ritual of endless sorrow,
Each drop a note in the symphony of melancholy,
Calling me to dance through memories, under the weeping sky,
The rain flows and keeps flowing, an infinite song of the secret heart.
And thus, in every drop of rain, I find fragments of unlived lives,
A dance of unease, of desires scattered in the wind,
My earth absorbs but doesn’t cease to sigh,
For the rain, like my dreams, is an endless string of whispered tears.
Roots of despairing dreams sink deep into the moist earth,
Nurtured by my tears, they grow, a mirage of lost becoming,
Under the blessed rain of eternity, mystery and melancholy intertwine,
The rain, in its dance, endlessly embraces my wounded soul.
I whisper subtle prayers under heavy clouds, hoping for a ray of light,
But the answer comes in the form of rain, a story of endless weeping,
And in every drop, I find a part of me, a fragment of a life full of longing,
For the rain, like my dreams, is infinite and enchanted.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Nectar Drips

sweet mango hedgehog
upturned towards eager lips
golden nectar drips


Blood Drips From Walls

A scream stretches out into the night
A desperate call heard but with guilt ignored
An echoing beacon of another battle commence
As neighbours run to their bunkers to escape its call
As blood drips from walls

In separate tombs
Two children wait in line
Hoping and praying they won't reach the head this time
Dreading what raised voices and familiar shouts will bring
As they desperately hide beneath timid sheets
That had always failed to provide cover they need
As blood drips from walls

A mother throws herself into the line of fire
Desperate to protect her kids from his fists full of anger
For she knows if she's not there where next he will turn
As her blood drips from walls

Plates, cups, glass become the bullets
In a battle for the kitchen door
Whilst trapped inside for now her children's safety she is sure
As blood drips from walls

Drink the finger on the trigger held
Cruel words the shrapnel that went so deep
Every punch of his fist the mighty bomb
That tempted fate to end this once and for all
As blood drips from walls

The excited barking dog
Becomes the friendly fire
As her arms try to block the punches
The dog bites into what he doesn't know
A scream of pain for a moment sets still time
As blood drips from walls

Two children shudder as the ambulance pulls up outside
The flashing lights a breeze of hope dancing on their bedroom ceilings
Just maybe somebody might come and take them now
Guilty in their selfish need as they feared for their mother loved
As blood drips from walls

But as they drifted into exhausted sleep
Freed for a night from his rage as he sat and feared losing all he controlled
In a hospital room their mother retreated into a lie
Surrendered all of them to many years more
Because more than she feared the war
She was terrified of the loneliness from losing his love
Believing every time he told her you're not good enough
As blood drips from walls

Premium Member Drips and Drops, Wet

droplet
twins, drips and drops
different, yet the same:
drip a leak; drop means rain coming,
both wet

Sun Drips

The sun was dripping drops floating in space like tiny stars

August18,2016


How Red Drips Smash

flowing rump
smooth trickles clash 
flower fast
how red drips smash 
lips touch
moments lust 
feelings last 
love has past

Palm History Awash With Drips

(Me slippery fingers slither,
slip and slide splashing ala
Jackson Pollock), sans slap
dash experimental, swiftly

tailored and harried writing
style, yes on par with purging,
spewing, venting...unexpurgated,
unexpressed, unexplained... 
words, which this Engelbert

Humperdinck singer/songwriter,
(whose name inexplicably popped
into the mind of this Dadaist)
offers "FAKE" apology for any

self inflicted, or sadomasochistic
flagellated cranial contusions
out of utter futility to make sense
regarding following gobbledygook!

GOOD LUCK!

Mine groovy palmar flexion creases
forever moistened by porous size
damn leaking levees provoking deluge
outranking Biblical flood - handy history
(in miniature) replete with Ark keel

logical artifacts discovered by hall n
oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and
5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle,
when callous ten hooks (calisthenics,
eh) caught without Noah shadow of a

doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott,
(amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied
testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh,
nee the entire spoilers alerts since
dawn of civilization writ small impossible

mission to decipher indelibly etched,
(what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics),
methinks his perspiration contains
preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde
like substance) generated nsync to maintain
eternal youthfulness, which stumps

medical community, and earned him
hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought
after human commodity), a blessing
and curse palms plagued with chronic
wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams

of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty
teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens
back when life held faint promise for
scattered (contra) bands of bipedal
hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting

(Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled
windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid
heir'm barreling along barren steppes
all around the one straggly mulberry bush,
where one pensive monkey (protohuman)
chased the weasel all around the world wide web.

Opportunity Drips

Opportunity drips
From my fingertips
Cup of dreams I sip
Galaxy of hope I finally grip

In the game if life
My notch has been placed
I can no put off
The chances a higher power has graced

Life wont stop
Regardless of me
Water will always drop
Birds will always fly
The hand will still tock on the clock

Move now,
Try to stretch this moment forever
Failures will come and bump
I'll attack like a lion catches prey
Ill pounce and back down never

Everyone in this Earth has a purpose to life
Its not about a green bill
Pulsate your heart with thrill
Something makes me smile
Take the extra mile
© Lynn Dolly  Create an image from this poem.

In Drips Revelation

I

Sweat hours are eternities in your smile a spirit is born clear to the clothed heart cold 
wind coughs through the window slathered white poetry adorns the stars with night 
cancer is a promise exploding black and white stones in a marble phrase 

She is ending…

Space lost in her voice…

Images clog blooming star showers 
Signals from numbers
Broken brittle paper 
Ripped in burnt screams
Messiahs and demons crying
Melodies blank with psalms

II

The first vision is the leader
He guides with thin fingers
Bony eyes form a procession
Behind his anointed lies

III

No phone rings silence is the weeping valley ever broken from shadows falling in rocks 
of prophecy bowls of soup painting praying white hands bearded in broken hope
modern sexy latex phrases pulled debt over our hands wearing lisps of rage 

In 
Drips
Revelation

lyrics spit milky hues
upon a dream sunflow
-ers and winter queens lilt
dragging their for
-tunes in a nocturnal waltz…
© Alex Roth  Create an image from this poem.

Narcissus

Gazing into the water’s depth, I see not fish or stone,
I only have eyes for what is my own
My form and face, both grace the smooth pale surface
My head swimming with my thoughts and my beliefs,
I realize the man in the mirror water is the same as me.
I look at him, expecting to be filled with pride, and yet,
I feel only envy. 
I scowl at him, trying to get him to go away,
But he does not.
He simply scowls back at me, as if mocking me.
His face, I’ll never have as much poise as his. 
Drip!
Drop!
The rain now plops and drips and drops and pitters and patters down unto the earth
And it strikes the man in the mirror water 
Ha! 
There! Now your face is uglier than mine!
I can only imagine the agony he faces.
And yet, when the deluge finally ceases, 
And I stand over him gloating,
He too stands there defiant,
With that devilishly prideful stare of his.
And too, his expression darkens when he sees that I have lived through the wild storm.
At last, I resolved to leave, 
Though it angered me that I would be leaving someone out in the world beautiful enough to challenge me.
And so I stayed, looking back at the man in the mirror water,
Unable to strike him, unable to ever make him less beautiful than me.
Till time itself ended.

Drips For Soul

My dear, dearer, dearest love
Just give me a loveful bowl
To revive my thirsty soul
And lift my feel high above

I will fly with your love wings
Into the infinity of heavens
Defeating all hateful demons
To the world where canary sings

From your rosy juicy lips
I will seek some drops of life
To kick away my inner strife
Owing to your immortal drips
© V P Mahur  Create an image from this poem.

Palm History Awash With Drips

Courtesy handy dandy
palmar hyperhidrosis
impossible mission to defeat
except poe wet tickly
even courtesy drysol.

(Me slippery fingers slither,
slip and slide splashing ala
Jackson Pollock), sans slap
dash experimental, swiftly

tailored and harried writing
style, yes on par with purging,
spewing, venting...unexpurgated,
unexpressed, unexplained... 
words, which this Engelbert

Humperdinck singer/songwriter,
(whose name inexplicably popped
into the mind of this Dadaist)
offers "FAKE" apology for any

self inflicted, or sadomasochistic
flagellated cranial contusions
out of utter futility to make sense
regarding following gobbledygook!

GOOD LUCK!

Mine groovy palmar flexion creases
forever moistened by porous size
damn leaking levees provoking deluge
outranking Biblical flood - handy history
(in miniature) replete with Ark keel

logical artifacts discovered by hall n
oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and
5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle,
when callous ten hooks (calisthenics,
eh) caught without Noah shadow of a

doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott,
(amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied
testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh,
nee the entire spoilers alerts since
dawn of civilization writ small impossible

mission to decipher indelibly etched,
(what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics),
methinks his perspiration contains
preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde
like substance) generated nsync to maintain
eternal youthfulness, which stumps

medical community, and earned him
hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought
after human commodity), a blessing
and curse palms plagued with chronic
wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams

of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty
teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens
back when life held faint promise for
scattered (contra) bands of bipedal
hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting

(Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled
windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid
heir'm barreling along barren steppes
all around the one straggly mulberry bush,
where one pensive monkey (protohuman)
chased the weasel all around the world wide web.

Premium Member my pen drips blood

writing
is
my
    life & breath
I
   live
to write poetry
and
   creating is my soul

to take
my skill away
   I will weep & die
for I must write poetry

my pen drips blood

if
I should die
will
my
   words die
or will they live on

that
   is a poets
 dream
and one
   must dream the dream

My Might Drips

I'm loosing my grip 
Like wind through my finger 
tips 
I clench my fist and miss 
Bite my lip and bleed 
Shut the door and fall
All that I have isn't enough 
It's taken away so quick
Brought to my knees so swift
Fall to my face that I can't lift
Pray that you hear me and act 
quick 
Because without him 
My might drips
Drips
Drips
Drips

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