Drafts Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Premium Member Dear Poetry

You mock  me again 
   as fevered wrist begins to pulse 
from the hinges... barbed vignettes glide, 
while swoosh of rain 's ink 
bathes upon the sill's  lattice...

I reach for its nectar , 
this breath sipping the language of words 
         yearning to be born : 
 From my window, 
a gush filters through hooks 
...  muddying my quill on shingles 
                 your verses bouncing around, round
to tumble into drafts of musings 
   searching for silence In chaos--
   for moist within my drying cave ;

and from this irreverent place, 
    I allow the grace of muse's  charm
 to open my soul's voice like an outpour
      of  virginal dew...
a promise to cruise into your unknown trails,
       this papyrus enticed, lines mocking me again :

 Somehow, late dusk arrives with tinge of lamplight 
           bringing a thrill along my fingers ,
  sensualidad grating , yes...rising like so,
 ready to greet the ache, the tremble,
     the ravaged beginnings 
   of pain's melody... half-desecrated, half-wise.

Premium Member Dear Poetry

Dear poetry, my intrinsic ally, 
Inaudible voice striving to be heard, 
There’s a lifelong pact between you and I - 
Crafting lasting legacy, word by word. 

I have wild notions and an endless drive, 
You mix the inspiration and the muse, 
I pen the drafts, you spark them all to life - 
You’ve got the final say I can’t refuse. 

Respectfully I gracefully accept 
The harsh rejection of a ruthless judge. 
So when you deem my rough copy inept, 
I vacillate but I don’t hold a grudge. 

I posit we two share the ties that bind - 
Literally I’m tied up to a chair. 
Quid pro quo I reciprocate in kind - 
If I don’t pen you, you haven’t a prayer.  

Dear, you’re stuck with me, even if you try, 
Unless you swap my sweatwork for AI! 

August 30, 2026

Premium Member DOOMED DUO

we glare, we groan, we get along!
a duo doomed by destiny,
bonded by drafts,
betrayed by buffering,
yet somehow still showing up
for the next wild idea.


Ex Aqua, Ex Terrore

Water speaks under the planks.  
Cold mouth counting my breaths.  
I will not feed the water.  

The river wears broken mirrors.  
It calls my name in pieces.  
I will not feed the water.  

The bridge pretends to be mercy.  
Bolts cry out then swallow sound.  
Cold mouth counting my breaths.  

You wait across the dark.  
Your voice a thin lantern in skull.  
I will not feed the water.  

Cables hum like teeth in wind.  
Each sway drafts endings I can't revise.  
Cold mouth counting my breaths.  

I taught myself fire for you.  
Now current learns my face.  
I will not feed the water.  

Love begs; the current applauds.  
Boards bow praying not to snap.  
Cold mouth counting my breaths.  

Something separates us final.  
Wood, water, and my terror.  
I will not feed the water.

Premium Member Pattern Maker

The pattern maker measures his guest
neck, shoulders chest, and breast, 
arms, back, wrist, waist, hips, 
pivots for darts on a block bodice 
drafts designer dupe requested
a choice rose-beige mini is invested
on paper made of parchment
a muslin fabric fit first garment

The dressmaker sews the formal
zig zags seam ends, snips as normal
finishing floral, attaching appliques,
the courtier knock off is complete        
I get out the chips and merlot
It’s time for the fashion show

Premium Member SEND HELP

My muse showed up at sunrise  
with a grin I didn’t trust,  
whispered, “Let’s write brilliance!”  
though my brain was gathering dust.  

My notebook’s overflowing~ 
every page a scribbled plea:  
Why do ideas strike at midnight  
but ignore me during tea?  

I chase down inspiration  
like a tumbleweed in flight~  
it rolls off toward the mountains  
while I trip in morning light.  

My drafts are wild stampedes,  
every sentence bucking free;  
I wrangle them with coffee  
and a whispered, Mercy me…


Premium Member LOYAL METAL DRAGON

It seems I’ve written myself into a corner~  
pages piling up like overexcited puppies,  
yapping for a home.

My desk groans under the weight  
of poems, memoirs, and drafts~
half-finished brilliance,  
and that one story I swear I’ll revise someday.

The solution seems obvious 
another filing cabinet~  
a shiny metal monument  
to my writing compulsion. 

But where to put the thing  
in this tiny office  
already stuffed with creativity  
and questionable organizational choices.

Then it hits me  
the closet~  
that mysterious portal  
where abandoned sweaters go to retire.

It’ll fit snugly inside  
like it was always meant to be there,  
guarding my words  
like a loyal metal dragon.

Problem solved… for now  
until the next poem arrives  
demanding its own drawer  
and the closet starts whispering,  
“Don’t even think about it.”

Premium Member Aplomb

Pulled to align
The pendulum argued.
But the plumb bob knew
what's right and not contrite.
To be poised, centered,
upright, steadfast, sure 
adroit, proud but not trite.

Dangling right on 
the plumb bob line,
a pendulum perpendicular
pondered, 
then answered
to prim and proper,
with ample sufficiency 
now certain.

Gravity assured,
swings swung, spun run, 
seesaw done,
all daft drafts 
exhausted,
the bob plumbed 
to settle on
aplomb.

Premium Member Mad About Pens

Pens... pens... pens.
I simply cannot have enough!
I sometimes pinch one off my dad
To write my first drafts rough.
Without stationary,
Where would we poets be?
A creators bliss is to settle down
With pen, paper and tea.

Missing Pages

We don’t fight.  
We don’t raise our voices or slam doors.  
We just… exist beside each other now.  

The silence isn’t peaceful anymore.  
It’s full of all the things we don’t say.  
Small complaints tucked under our tongues.  
“Why didn’t you notice?”  
“Why do you act like that?”  
Questions that never make it past our teeth.

I don’t trust the way I used to.  
Not with a storm —  
but with a slow leak.  
The kind that drains you  
without you realizing the tank is empty.

In the beginning, his name felt like home.  
Now it feels like a room I’m careful in.  
I still love him.  
I just don’t feel _held_ the same way.

We’re not broken.  
We’re just unresolved.  
Two people reading different drafts  
of the same story,  
pretending the missing pages don’t matter..

The Migraine of Everything

The frustration 
Of you 
Is like a relentless migraine 

Absentmindedly 
Mind numbing 
I need the daily reminder 

How I could be everything 

Sleeping in your favorite shirt 
Holding me so close 
I can feel your heartbeat against my back 

Whispering the drafts 
you’ve written 
In your mind 

Dripping in color 
From your brown eyes 
To my red hair in the sun 

Or I can be nothing 

Crying in your favorite shirt 
Holding my blanket so close 
It can feel my jagged breath against its back

Premium Member WHAT WRITING TAUGHT ME

Writing taught me plenty~  
like how my thoughts, so many,  
line up like rowdy schoolkids  
when I give them half a chance.  

It showed me words go dancing  
when I stop over-glancing,  
and sometimes trip spectacularly  
while trying to look grand.  

It proved my drafts are stubborn~  
they mutter, Try again, hon,  
but if I bribe them with some chocolate  
they usually behave.  

And most of all, it told me  
my messy mind can hold me~  
a slightly tilted universe  
that still deserves the page.

Premium Member Crema of Half-Lives Decked

peripheral vision is a curse
showing me what I've left undone
like cream swirls in my coffee
which my will can't mix in
can't stir to closure
to declutter
and finish
half-starts
drafts
wants
hopes
left to languish
in cafe latte, now cold

Premium Member The Patron Saint of Pettiness

She’s up at dawn binoculars raised
Surveying lawns like crimes unfazed
A rogue petunia out of line
She files a claim by 8:09

A car she doesn’t recognize
Becomes a case she must analyze
Stolen she mutters pacing slow
She’s texting the board before they know

If someone grills past quiet time
She drafts a message crisp and primed
Attachments timestamps photos too
Her self-proclaimed duty through and through

She’s judge and jury of the street
A self-appointed rules elite
No porch too cluttered hedge too tall
No harmless fun too small to stall

The neighbors begrudgingly grit their teeth
When she reports a wreath beneath
The approved specs for seasonal décor
They’ve learned to keep an eye on their door

Not a board member but eager to enforce
She guards the HOA’s covenant with a nosy force
A watchdog? Maybe A pest? Perhaps
Forever wasting her days setting petty traps

outstaring a blank wall


You stand before a wall.
It waits, blank as withheld breath.

What hovers over you?
Drafts unpinned,
stories unspoken,
videos sealed,
pages chasing horizons
that never arrive.

Perfection whispers—
a mask for delay.
What if you placed
one imperfect mark?
What if you let motion
carve its shape?

The wall gathers:
crooked sketches,
half-born concepts,
awkward stretches,
jokes collapsing mid-laugh.

Chaotic. Messy.
Unfit for display.

Yet weeks later—
fragments draw together,
a shape begins to inhale.

Not triumph,
but a quiet forming,
a world exhaling
what ‘til now was withheld.




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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.

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