My hands hold the bars
I’m a good prisoner
Hoping to be let out for good behaviour
Head down
not meeting my jailers eyes
At night when the lights are off
When the moon is in the sky
When men cough and moan in the darkness
I reach through the bars towards the stars
My finger traces that golden orb
My mind explores pin pricks of silver
Traveling light years in mere seconds
no longer held by concrete and steel
When my jailers look at me
They don’t realize that I am a free man
Only my body is held in this place
Where a man’s thoughts travel
there resides his soul
Men are held in many prisons
Expectations
Past traumas
Loveless marriages
Addictions
Regrets
They think
“If I hold onto the bars
keep my head down
Perhaps I’ll get out early for good behaviour?”
All the while not realizing that when they face a mirror
they are looking into their jailer’s eyes.
My Loudest Feelings
It pricks my pores
Makes me red like glowing charcoal.
My tear glands could not stop reminding me of its nature.
That feeling I thought as much
Love hit my heart
Its prints left stitches.
I could not bear it
Each time my heart beat of jealousy.
The only cold I felt
Where the breeze of my breath.
Like an African woman pounding vegetable in the middle of the night.
So were the lobes of my brain jamming each other.
I never wonna feel as such again.
When my feelings are smashed.
My care snubbed
My love overlooked
No, not again!
Let my heart rest.
When my thoughts took me to space.
When anger battled with my soul.
When addiction became part of me.
No, not again!
Let my mind rest.
The shrinking violet made her way back.
For another round of acidic attacks.
Blaming the sun for her shadows,
the mirror for all her cracks.
The mad queen of monkeys,
leading a gnashing troop.
Tossing stones and madly lashing
While slinging vicious verbal poop....
Driving all the flavor from the soup,
There she sits atop self-pity hill.
Bible in one claw-acid in the krill.
Hopping merrily from kill to kill to kill.
Your hue of loneliness is self-inflicted.
Carefully look back at the paths and weaponry you chose.
A path of slippery pricks and a rotting bouquet of roses.
It's well past time you grew out of and shed that ugly mold.
Don’t denounce me when I weep
Soaking blows right, left and centre
From angled arrows that keep
Galumphing near my fort vying to enter
The crib the moon loathes
Which the venom sunshine can’t sear
While sadness bothers
To rain pain and fear with the clear
Motive to abuse my space and stretch the surface
On which horror refuses to die or lie
As it rears its Dracula face
To feed my parched mouth the poisoned pie
I strive to expel
While ebbing strength and determination
Cry to exhale
As intimation of incriminating information
Smears my spine with the ice
Whose temperature challenges the lowest Kelvin
While each slice of its frozen price rolls a die that doesn’t suffice
When far from fruition floats Melvin
To ask me why I cry
Grown and gone alone as I am
Although rows and crows of sorrows multiply
Cursing the slum
That moulded the character I hold
In my person
As life travails succor withhold
To teach me the lesson
Life feels I deserve
For excelling at school
At the forefront of the erudition preserve
Life feels makes me a flamboyant fool.
a ghost on a wall
sigh midnight wind murmurs heart
dreadful twisting vines
howling dog prances
tawny owls tu-whit tu-whoo
own silhouette pricks
Dotting about land mines eyes half closed
Asleep she seems while walking unto this edge....
Repulsion taking hold fey flags his juggernaut: jostling
King snakes slithering past these planetoids searching for her lizard queen ?
Demimonde's state of this union's address devil-may-care; and that he does dear dusty
Acheron your systematic servitude touch'stone's, tour de force: stigmatic ellipses be genetic
Your red rum rivers his macabre's subtle genre in another's, covert genocide their general assembly
Standard-bearers taking oath they solemnly sware savoir-faire satyr's, satanic satellites: diphtheria's diplomacy love's night.
Screw google, and their big birds chicks....
Switching gears as her united nations wishing
Italy's vatican to change it's stance upon abortion ?
The heavens, speckled with small dots of light
Sometimes shooting as they pass through the night
Many pin pricks scattered throughout the sky
Allows spent prowess to pound way up high
I delight in the show of sparkling stars
All blasts a form shining beyond, so far
Master of the lights is the humble moon
Covers its fair share of beams like a tune
Harmony, the light of the sky exists
Coexisting with a warmth that’s betwixt
Once the sky is clear, twinkling pebbles rock
A glow so perfect, there’s never a block
The warmth of the sky comes down to the Earth
Beauty and fondness illustrates the birth…
Of the speckled tiny dotted heaven
The greatest of numbers, number seven
Fathered the smiles off of people’s faces
The light arrives and then blesses with grace
The moon escapes, brings with it all its light
Stars all align with randomness tonight
Russell Sivey
I have left my past long back,
To strive to live in present sac,
Waiting for future's pack,
But my past me pricks me.
I gave my life a new begin,
The hope always lies therein,
To wash away all the sin,
But me past pricks me.
The time I came at me past,
Two options lied atlast,
Accept it or neglect it alas,
But my past pricks me.
To secure my future,
I screwed loved one's nature,
Became reason of ditcher,
But my past pricks me.
It became a necessity,
Present's hospitality,
But in the reality,
My past pricks me.
I Love the elderly
so full of history
I love my generation
who kept me a mystery
I love the children
who's future, now bright
for I have died for them
to capture the light
for i understand
pain more than ever
once I released it
the anger got better
as it went away from the people
and into my music
without a single
reason to prove it
without a reason
to let Love's light in
I didn't, it found me
and lesser I sin
God and my father
both let me know
it would all be okay
so very long ago
even tho the road
would be full of pricks
even back then I'd tell them
you can all suck my dick.
-Bj Fard
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.