I never told you what I felt
I kept it all to myself
Darkness filling up my soul
Emotions spun out of control
Evil thoughts circled my brain
My heart feeling so much pain
There was so much going wrong
Happening for way to long
Day by day it just got worse
My silence was like a curse
That would leave me so unsteady
Because I was never ready
To share what was deep inside
Each night I secretly cried
Because words I needed to say
To you would just slip away
Every time I tried to seek
The courage I'd become weak
Now I sit here with one thought
Why I never really fought
The angered demons way down deep
Just one whisper or a peep
From my lips right to your ears
Might have taken all my fears
Away -- but I was not that smart
Now its too late I broke the heart
Of a friend I've known forever
Who stood by me through stormy weather
But this raincloud that follows me
Left both of us in misery
My dulciana
Agonised me again,
But the ballerina
Floored as I'd never been.
Warfare can not euphemize
With tiger reverberation;
We always decimalize
For vicinal desiccation!
Is a unifoliate unproductive
Or nonradioactive?
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 10–16, 2026)
If I could choose one thing to say
it would be, maybe I shouldn't have done it my way
Driven by trauma of my own,
pain was bled where seeds were grown
One would think justice is best
Yet it can lead to another quest
It may not have been up to me
Once told I am not a martyr, you see
It felt righteous and an obligation
But, left me stranded at a train station
Widespread corruption led to more harm done
Instead of saving people, it was a setting sun
It felt wrong to ignore or stay silent
I was always seeking for people to repent
Regardless of how right it seems to be,
my way now, may be to flee
Still conflicted, as processing takes place
Trying to accept what others can't face
I continue to absorb what I see
Hoping wisdom gained, will gently guide me
Heidi Sands
8/10/26
(C)opyright
Sir Who
He's not a pastor
but he has a congregation
proves wicked
changing faces
His ploy, paint lives with gloom, judgement, ridicule and tragedy
but the crafter of this ill will wants his portrait kept out of those equations
They think they know, unaware and oblivious to the truth in burdensome weight of his misconstrued calculations.
**The Thorn of a Bee**
*Written by Marilou G. Taupan*
In a peaceful meadow, a bee flies freely,
Small yet liberated and useful.
But no matter how good its deeds are,
There is something it fears—its “thorn.”
Like the bee, humans also have their own “thorns.”
It is not something that literally pierces others,
But it represents the experiences they carry—
The pain, anger, and wounds of the past
That have never fully healed.
Like the bee, a person may sometimes hurt others,
Not because it is their intention,
But because they only want to defend
And protect themselves.
When you see the true “thorn” within someone,
You will understand that it belongs to a person who has been hurt,
Someone who is trying their best
Not to be wounded again.
So, when you encounter someone with a “thorn,”
Do not immediately fear or turn away.
Perhaps that thorn is the very thing that keeps them strong
When the world has tried to break them.
Because behind every hidden thorn,
There is a story of pain, hope, and perseverance.
Like the bee—its thorn does not define who it is,
But the heart that continues to soar despite everything.
We fought with monsters and became monsters fighting the insane acting out in strange displays dancing nonsense in a cave imprisoned by a thousand lies we designed to contain a willful child, and with hammer blows and the whips we made ourselves better slaves then the slaves who came before with fevered dreams drunken prose spoken lost and broken noses, broken skulls, broken bones tore through flesh, the fear, the fear, I miss my friends, those younger days, it seemed to me we would never grow old, tired. VIXI.
Poem 17 Note. . . vixi liber et moriar: "I have lived free and I will die free"
If life could wash away hurts,
If life could wipe away tears,
If life could give red alerts,
When a hint of grief appears;
If life could take away pain,
If life could tear away aches,
If life could give joy again,
When liquid sorrow dam breaks;
So wonderful would life be,
If such things could really
Happen unfathomably,
Life would turn out ideally.
You walk the way the wind blows
Or so the story goes.
You rode the waves of blue,
And lived a life with no clue
You blow smoke of tar
And drive a beat up car
You live in built-up walls,
Where twilight slowly crawls.
A fortress made of stone,
To keep yourself unknown.
You traded wind and sky,
To watch the world go by.
But rain taps on the window pane,
To remind you of the pain.
And the wind still knows your name,
Before you quit the game.
You throw the portal wide,
And cast the ghost aside.
Out where the blacktop gleams,
You wake up from your dreams.
You head across the bay,
To find a better way.
You turn toward the east,
The captive soul released.
The engine starts to roar—
You walk the way no more.
(for the dreams we swallow to stay "grateful")
There was a life I promised myself,
clear, simple, mine.
I still see it sometimes,
just past the edge of my days,
like a door I never got to open.
I don’t talk about it.
Can’t.
People would say “be grateful,
others have it worse”.
So I carry it quiet.
On silent nights it sits on my chest,
the weight of the life I didn’t live,
as heavy as if I had lost it twice.
covered in dried up blood stains
from stabbin a pin into my scarred up veins
been way past insane
kuz this dimension been lame
done lost tha game
a while ago
lost that dope as$ flow
that I used to emit
from my fly as* soul
couldn't be ignored
anywhere I'd go
super insecure
but try not to let it show
pains throughout my body
from all the mental baggage I got in tow
stunted in this slum
when I know I was supposed to grow
reality hit hard
it was a super low blow
don't think i could be made
to feel any more or low
karma tried to tell me
I'll reap what I sow
now I'm puttin bandaids on all my cuts
..like I didn't know-
that all of the b.s. I bestowed
would Come back 3 fold
(Tribute to the original poem "Tomorrow's Light)
Waking in the smother cold
Breathing ashes of discarded souls
The chills of old withered hopes
Binding those into Hell's traps
Screams of begs and pleas fill the crimson meadows
Craters filled with poisonous promises
Light of grey and carmine paved the ruins
Scent of rust and debris cover all untouched
Branded by the Reaping ignorance
Watching in the crimson thrones
Sparring no favors but sounds of laughter
These eyes heavy of dirt and rumble
Needing to rest upon bloodied heavy doors
A rarity of true light's warm fills the cold vessel
A breath of blooming life blazing an ember
Reaching a wrinkled, broken hand of hope
Within the abyss of harden abandonment
A soften tear runs down one's defeated features
Wishing for the retuning light to ablaze again
I wasn't always of ebony hue
In comparison to family flock
As a child, I matched that of my ewe
Back then, my gate was yet to be unlocked
I guess I wandered, grazing through my life
I had not shepherd with, to be my guide
I was daughter, sister, mother, wife
The deepest parts of me know that I tried
But now they only see that which I lack
And so among these sheep, I am the black
Pain of Life
Kevin Davis 2025
What can I do to quiet the ache? From the events of my life, sweet memory moves through my mind like a fleeting train, each moment etched in the tides of history.
I see them clearly, lit by golden rays— smiles and laughter echoing in the air. The scent of life perfumes my brightest days, while time slips softly past my gentle care.
Yet even joy unwinds its fragile thread, leaving behind the cool embrace of shade. I ache for the warmth of youth long shed, when hope bloomed in every place I stayed.
Still, I can return from longing’s pull and step into today, where love remains. Though memories sing with a sweetness full, I look ahead through life’s tender rains.
So I take my love, and we anchor near, holding tight as the world turns its rhyme. Life, with its scars, still rings bright and clear— ours to savor in this fleeting time.
Why then this ache, when past and present shine, when joy has shaped my heart so thoughtfully? Blessed am I with harmony divine— a life of love, and love enough for me.
You have truly broken my spirit,
but I'm okay
I've been broken before
and I always bounce back
I heard a voice,
a static laugh, playing on a cassette tape
A muffled cry, looped into a comedy show.
Buzzing, ringing, echoing...
It keeps repeating—
Piercing through to bone,
Gripping my chest as if
My fingers might crush it—
Opening my mouth to
Spit out my heart.
A vast cage called home,
A bleak stage called family...
"Can’t this relationship go beyond rights and duties?"
No matter how desperate,
Or how much I beg—
There is no return,
Neither safe escape
Nor a crossroads...
Acceptance would never come.
Sub Categories
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.