The morning after my suicide
At around maybe, 4 or 5 AM
Before anyone is awake to find me
The air would be as crisp as it was the day I was born
The sun would rise earlier than usual
And the birds would sing a song that's so familiar, it feels new
The wind chimes would hum to the gentle breeze
And every coffee shop would open like nothing ever happened
The trees would dance with the wind
Bacon would sizzle on the pan and eggs would be cracked
The kettle would buzz and despite the objective quietness, it's loudly reassuring
And if I were still alive, I think I would've reconsidered
The morning after my suicide would be beautiful
And I am sad I won't be around to see it
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
tide retreats~
slick black rocks gleaming
with secrets left behind
Family, friends, food and wine
We all laugh as we celebrate
What is actually beyond description
The feast, a placeholder, symbol
And vehicle for all our thanks.
The morning after we wake refreshed
As Sun rises bright in a clear sky revealing
Fresh snow brilliant on surrounding hills.
So much joy, so much sadness
All around this whole we celebrate…
(11/28/25)
an energy drink is the
only thing keeping
me on my feet as
i pack away
the little bits of you
still sitting around
my room into
little boxes to
hide them in my
closet as i
pretend my heart
is racing because of the
caffeine
The morning after I tried to die was just like any other. My Grandmother called me from the kitchen, alarming me that I had slept-in too late. My face was puffy in my eyes, cheeks and lips. My body was fatter and more stocky. My color was all-well returned back to my head, with my nose a bright red. I had taken most of the pills in my prescription bottle, surprisingly nobody noticed the amount of them that were missing. Even though I was breathing, I have been dead for months.
The morning after I told her I was better off nowhere, in the thirty degrees heat, I left. I figured it made no matter where I found myself in the world anyways, for I was just a problem made of atoms.
The morning after he told me he loved me I took his blindness and handed it to Jesus, Jesus healed him like he did the others, and suddenly he was just a boy who had said three words he’d never mean.
The morning after the dog left, I saw his footprints embedded in the living room carpet like cement. I saw him moaning and crying at the door like the ghost he was, begging to come back.
The morning after I woke up, I wish I had not. But that's just life.
The morning after
These words seep into my mind
Before I leave my bed
Or head to the bathroom
Rain has ruined this week
My plants are drowning
The yard is a soggy, mushy swamp
April has never been this angry
My mood is dour
I stare at myself in the mirror
I repeat the words I heard upon awakening
The morning after
My toothbrush falls off the sink
Great start to another rainy dreary day
My attitude rolls her eyes
it rained all night
the morning came
in one cool gust
the world seemed different
suddenly calm and quiet
reveling in the moment it seemed
not so eager to rev up its engines
obviously delighting in just sitting
savoring this delightful interlude
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
The lightning danced all through the night
To wrought a festival of fire
That put to torch in blackened blight,
And scorched the forest like a pyre
Now, petroglyphs of nature’s arts
In splotchy ash ‘cross craggy scarp,
Are scarred background to blackened ghosts
Now frozen in escapement’s warp.
The energy of blackened woods
And flora from the forest floor
Has left behind the fertile goods
Of nascence sown, as evermore.
The consequences known, foretold for years,
a crushing blow would break the country’s back,
eclipsing the most pessimistic fears,
a devastating night of blackest black…
The zealots would be working ‘round the clock
to mete out punishment to those opposed,
while sheeple, noses pressed to glass, just gawked
’neath red bills lest their faces be exposed.
Impossible as it might seem to most,
the world did spin much like the day before,
though once the quakes were dampened on the coasts,
it tilted to the right a little more.
Go hug your neighbor, whether loss or win;
In four short years, we do it all again!
a long awaited milestone is finally reached
the mood of the moment is exultant
yet to whom do such emotions arise
when we know in truth there is no one here
as both vibrantly joyous yet also nonchalant
we reflect on the blood path that brought us here
of how when misaligned from vibrations of love
the wounds inflicted and borne now seem dreamlike
what was accomplished and what cost dear souls
did all the players emerge with their auras glistening
does bitterness yet linger in the aftermath of battle
or have we risen vibrationally radiating love and light
You left this morning
I was you, and you were me
you were gone without a word?
I left this morning
you in your naked beauty
I will return, my dearest.
On the morning after
a bath of light is vortexed in the embers of last night
A spool unravels beneath
his fervent gaze, she has been happily loved
"LOVE WEAVES A MYSTERIOUS MAGIC SPELL"
that no earthly thought can ever undo
A thread of hope, diamond wishes, he's out of her league
still she dreams of wedding dresses and just one word,
" I Do"
the world we leave behind
disappearing in the morning sun
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
She’s familiar…
ain’t that the blues
(The Main Point: March, 1972)
little birds flying around my legs and feet
unless i got some food, no way do they want to meet
i enjoy them in flight, being all free
oh, Sweet Mama, how i wish that was me
the water is their seductress as well as their mirror
it is within this much needed Peace where i see things so much clearer
the whooping crane flies away showing her natural size
this bubblebath jacuzzi feeling inspires the sun to rise
a stray puppy comes out of nowhere to say hello
i pet his little head, and he begins to lick my elbow
we then look at the water together wondering where it goes
we listen to some mid 70s bob james, and the grooves temporarily frees us from our woes
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.