The sun shyly peeked over the hill
as the cold air made whispers audible
and the dissipation began to rise from the dunes.
The morning breeze stirred flurries of sand from dunes
where shadows stubbornly clung to the face of the hill.
A susurrus from the cops barely audible.
Upon the bench in the lee of fickle dunes
the old brass plaque gleamed in rays cresting the hill:
an inscription of grief no longer audible.
I run my fingers over ridged hill of letters as past is audible among dunes.
My Soul is Tired
Sometimes the darkness can swallow you whole to where there's no end in sight. The soul struggles and fights praying to be guided to what's right, but the darkness over comes and the soul becomes numb to all the pain and suffering you've witnessed throughout your life. Your soul reads like a novel every page engraved of your struggles. You often re-read those pages to make sense of it all praying the ending will bring fire to your soul. The pain, the suffering, the good and bad had penetrated your soul by all you've had. Your soul can only observe so much suffering before tiredness sets in and there is no light only darkness within. The soul must sleep and write the end of the novel of your life from beginning to end.
I’m feeling childish today.
I’ve got my pink socks ankle high.
I’m wearing platform boots to add an inch of height.
My belt sparkles when in contact with a ray of light.
I just set up my camera, everyone, watch me shine.
I’d play music and dance in the rain at night.
It’s a beautiful distraction from the lows of life.
I met a girl today, she said hi and smiled.
I’ll remember it when it’s time to sit and cry.
It’s sundown again, and the darkness creeps in.
No rain today, so I put on shades.
Can’t let anyone see the red in my eyes.
The music will carry me through — when I listen, time flies.
I’m not secure enough to open up to people.
I usually wait it out, till the feeling is neutral,
till it’s grey lights and auditory exclusions,
till it’s headaches, numbness, and seclusion.
I can’t remember what a heartbeat feels like.
I can’t remember what I want to feel like.
Once a while, when I’m feeling childish,
I act out emotions, like a ‘print and publish.’
Forelsket feelings from celestia,
let yourself fall into that blessing.
Cassette mix created just for you,
may coax us into undressing.
Pillow talk so soft and savage,
slow down get a little deeper.
Intro lines are not needed now,
blow me kisses make my soul stir.
Time seems to go faster, the older you get.
Your youth takes the hit.
Days go by.
Time won't stand still, no matter how hard I try.
Time has left me behind.
Perhaps a memory, in someone else's mind.
Days go by.
As the sun zips across the sky.
Kissing yesterday good bye.
I'm exactly where I need to be.
I see
The coming of tomorrow.
My land of no sorrow.
As far as I can see..
I was, maybe, never meant to be.
As the world passes me by.
I surely do try.
Not to cry.
As I make my way.
Through each day.
For me, life is a gift.
A smile gives the heart a lift.
Words in my head, float around
Silence, the absence of sound.
I refuse to place a knee on the ground.
I've taken life's best hit.
Still I refuse to quit.
Take a deep breath.
What is death.
Writing my rhymes.
Lost in past times.
I can still smile
No sense of style.
But I live.
Of my heart I give.
Lonely.
No one and only.
I don't mind.
I find.
Being left behind.
The more life passes me by.
The less I cry.
Sheets of blank paper had yellowed with age
I wielded a pen, but no ink was spilled by my hand,
Memories were left unwritten on every page,
though as many as a beach holds grains of sand
I gave in to my Muse and scrawled line after line
thoughts drawn from my soul, buried fathoms deep
Were all of those sad recollections really mine?
They were flowing as freely as the tears I weep
Reflections of my past in sunlight and ebony night,
refusing to remain entombed, fled from their prison
Strokes from darkness were escaping their plight
Released by my pen, from their sepulcher had risen
There is battle brandishing power in the pen I wield
A weapon I've found useful in place of a silent tongue
It cannot protect me as though suit of armor or shield,
Emotions shouldn't be confined; they should be sung
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...
Mental Illness is not a violation.
It's a human experience.
One many carry unspokenly.
The real harm is uncovered
How others respond:
The quick labels, the cold
Stares, the whispered verdicts.
A mind in toil needs support, not punishment,
Compassion, not condemnation.
Because the truth is straightforward:
The crime is in the person
Who sees the hurt and chooses to
Judge it.
THE ALMOST
Your eyes spoke more before you said a word,
your smile shone bright before your name was known.
I remember those eyes that looked with love,
I remember those moments more than my own.
Every moment, every word
had light, love, and shyness,
till both of us came to know
our hearts were meant to beat together.
We learnt each other's laughter,
those dreams filled with you,
those momentary pleasures of love
that fluttered my heart like a dove.
I noted everything down,
in the back of my mind,
wishing someday
you would become mine.
I thought you would stay till the end,
but I don't know what made your heart bend.
For everything that ever happened
filled my heart with the almost.
And the only thing I did
was break into pieces.
But wasn't it too late to realise
that the thing was my unwavering trust?
I still remember those moments, but now,
those eyes turned away from me without a word.
Your smile faded,
as your lips no longer shaped my name.
Your eyes spoke less
before you left me unheard.
~solace ash
A name can feel heavy
Before you ever mention it.
Some names carry rooms
You never meant to dwell in.
A name can imitate until you
Forget your own voice.
Some lock behind you like a
Door you didn't restrict.
Some names carry rooms
You never meant to live in.
And still, you wear them
Because someone handed
Them to you.
Some lock trailing you like a
Door you didn't close.
One day you discern the metal
Shift.
And still, you wear them
Because someone handed
Them to you.
One day you hear the metal
Shift.
One day you step out
Leaving the cage open
Behind you.
Rough white water dreams in a river rush,
the journey can toss you and get bumpy.
Thrown off course forced to pivot suddenly,
that is fate’s way of asking you to push.
Now that you’re up with a kick in the tush,
your path can be seen even more clearly.
Rough white water,
adrenaline causes hot cheeks to flush.
You’ve got a vision of what’s meant to be
and the desire to pursue it fiercely.
Execution brings a call to ambush
rough white water.
Petrichor is a complete vernal scent,
an ache so feral it’s filled with lightning.
Waiting for new plans to make a descent
the past seems to leave the future biting.
Plans slowly unfurl and then start to run,
a hit to the soul spiking bone marrow.
With no need to outsource to anyone,
you’re in control of your own tomorrow.
That urge to defenestrate the outgrown,
when you impel it’s a breath of fresh air.
Nervously investing in the unknown
feels a bit like that initial jump scare.
Choking on such cloying efflorescence
vestige broke in exposing my pretense.
A DEDICATION TO MY GODSON CARLETON
What can I say, when I received news that you
had gone to be with our Lord.
I called you, but you didn’t respond.
I asked our Lord many times to make a change
in your life, but I didn’t expect this.
My only hope was that I was a good influence
in your life, and that you felt you could depend on me.
I hate to see you go this way, but it seems
to have been the only
choice, if you can call it a choice.
I will miss you terribly.
So long, my dear Carleton.
I will always love you.
My heart has chosen you;
Pour love, into a hug, elected –
I was taught which road to follow
Before I knew roads turn and curve
I was handed all the answers
Before I had a chance to learn
They called obedience virtue
When it meant I should not ask why
So, I learned to question quietly
sat under that normal seeming blue sky
My rebellion didn't shout
I did not need to start a war
sometimes rebellion is simply
opening an unfamiliar door
Now the words I speak are chosen
The path beneath my feet is mine
If I sing a different tune now
it is because I chose each line
Emotions Categories
Definition | What is Emotions 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
love, shame, anger, sympathy, happiness, concern, sentiment, passion, fervor, remorse, pride, warmth, joy, sorrow, grief, desire, empathy, rage, excitement, sadness, despair, feeling, affection, agitation, sensation