It. Poems - Poems about It.

It wasn't the storm that ravaged the dark sky, nor the heavy silence that settled like a velvet shroud, not the muffled cry beneath layers of quiet breath, but a single tear, from the left eye, falling secretively, slow and full of meanings, carving its deep truth on the face of a man who had never known tears. They say the...

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Isn't it strange how we cannot see the air, but we feel every bit of it, it slips into our lungs without asking, leaves without farewell, and yet, we call it nothing, but it is something, the breath between silences, the ghost of a world in motion, unseen but always present around us. It weaves through the trees like...

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Its beauty took millions of years Every leaf and every drop of water Placed in its perfect spot year after year Even with its history, the beauty is fragile It would not take much to destroy Just one man with too much money Wanting to make his mark on the world Houses or large office buildings Anything that would have his name The...

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I know some members feel like what's been described here but truly Poetry Soup is a wonderful site And I am glad to be a part. Thank you soupers. To think I've been, in this soup Probably a year No matter how hard I write I'm nowhere getting near Rob I think I had it And I'm really getting pissed What the...

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It wasn’t amber. It was light pretending to be amber because the leafless purple branches said so— their shadows crosshatched the window, twenty-four panes of silence. Distant shoes whispered down a hallway. I turned my head, but the glow stayed where it was. The walls were shadow— blue, absorbing everything. A cart rattled past my door, metal on tile, a music I didn’t understand. Somewhere, a voice laughed and then...

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When I walk through a blink of a garden That hugs my legs And calls my mother To come collect these shard of broken glass I felt it on the kick of my leg With hours and more hours spent Asking for a chance to restart There wasn’t even a miracle To call and ask for a redo I felt the pain when...

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It came to come; with no trumpet call, no fanfare flair, no grand parade, just dust, after all. It came to be; without a plan, without a dream, of what becoming really means. It came to pass; a lingering lilt of longing, played with a chorus, of echoes coming from distant thrills. It came to ask; why no answers given, to questions asked, about why your dreaming has not moved on...

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I’ll write of roses never touched that fade in wilt, then praise their hue, and though their rot perfumes my metaphors, I’ll never stoop to caress their blooms, and as rivers choke on oil and bone, with caustic ink I’ll hail their shimmer, ignoring the discarded gluttony lining their shores, scribing only the poetic...

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When was your last lengthy, stimulating conversation? ~ Thought so ...

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Live every day as if it were your last, they told me, words carrying shadows and chills, a thought like a storm gathering on a clear sky, a pressure that presses to immobility, a swan song that moves the soul in circles of unease, where time intertwines with fear, but within me, like an echo of another life,...

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In the depths of pleasure, it is said that only in that moment of supreme ecstasy does the mind become completely empty, thoughts evaporate like morning mist before the sun, and the soul floats in an abyss of silence, a moment where you are suspended between worlds, a brief pause on the path of unfathomable eternity, a second...

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What does it mean to witness suffering and feel it burn inside you, not as gentle empathy, but as a deep-rooted and screaming indictment? There is a boy who carries cement as I carry metaphors — without question, without choice, without allowing himself the luxury of another option, only with a resignation sculpted in silence. He is not a...

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The sun still spills on the oranges' skin, Bright as the lies we bury within. The sea is patient, the palms still sway, But silence gathers at the edge of the bay. How many rules must the warm wind bear Before it forgets how to kiss the air? They scribble statutes in hurried ink— Do they ever pause long enough to think? Children...

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When it comes at you both barrels In waves to devastate. When I face too many perils... And my help... It comes too late. When every fix is causing problems... That before were not there. With no clear way to solve them... Without facing even more. In battle best not even fought You've given it your all... It took much more than you have got. You...

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Stop waiting for the world to love you, for it never owed you that, Do you think you'll feel worthy if you win, accumulate, and prove enough? That shame will vanish one morning, that the mirror will smile instead of frown? Let me tell you something true: you're chasing ghosts with heavy chains on your ankles, We're taught that...

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