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Best Poems Written by Elle M.

Below are the all-time best Elle M. poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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When the glass shatters

When will she ever learn? 
That mending a broken glass
Much like a broken soul
Then give it back to the breaker
Will only ever result in the same situation 
Haven't years of sitting in a physics class ever taught her anything? 
An experiment done in same unchanged circumstances 
Will always result in the same conclusion 
The conclusion in this case being: 
It doesn’t matter if hopes and tears are shed, 
Immeasurable trust won’t save her in the end.
The multitude of hopes
That something, anything might change ever
A hope to which she holds no control over
And a thought to which she’ll always be last 
She allows it
To be broken and devoured in pain in a vicious cycle 
Over and over and over
In hopes, faith?
That one day, maybe some day
It’ll stop hurting 
Not stop breaking, not merely heal
But ever so simply, painstakingly stop hurting.

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Blank For Poetry

Blank for poetry
For the first time, I’m blank 
No poetic rhythm 
or vocabulary connoisseurship 
Just plainly and utterly blank
I’m searching and scouring
Not finding the right words
Or any words at all
I’m just...blank 
Maybe that’s what this does to you
This way of being deliberately broken
With such a piercing pain 
it echoes through the shards of sobs
As I watch the shreds of ashes 
Of all I’d based my short-lived life on
Stain the same palm of hands
That worked so hard to appease
Touching the ever so intricate part of me
Shattered 
Weeping for the part that held
Every single thread of my dedication 
Woven into the most validating piece of clothing 
Warm and secure it embraced 
Like a heated coat in the cruel winter 
And I sat there, blank
Lips sealed with grief 
For a self that made the psyche rest
And now I stand worthless and wordless
Blank.

Details | Elle M. Poem

TRUTH

I am, for the most part, most scared to speak.
Not because I don't necessarily have anything to say,
My mouth, alongside the virility of my brain, just seem to like putting me in reticence
But even in the fortunate instance that my mind doesn't wander into insanity at the thought,
I would still seal my mouth with golden chains
I would let the raining consequences rust it more shut
Spoken so, one would think such strong speech flew just out of a god
But for very antonymous reasons, I decide to favor most and keep the unfathomable out of doom's way
Those reasons come back to one simple yet deadly proclamation
TRUTH
We'd think a civilization that's fought so hard to be globally accepted, respected
One that holds itself on such a high pedestal, you'd be condemned to an endless fall if one jumped
One that claims autonomy over every single living and non-living creatures alike
Would be open to TRUTH
To date, the ones who've foolishly let their intelligence get the best of them
The ones who, amidst idiotic and ignorant surroundings they had to endure,
Decided to venture into the world of TRUTH
Were shoot off the pedestal so quick one would've mistaken it for a god
And then they fell and fell and fell and fell so deeply some lived through their last breath, falling
And at last, all the unlucky ones got through to TRUTH.
It was another world, maybe infinitely larger, ethereally brutal, and hauntingly peaceful
Instead of oceans, this world materialized into one main thing: REALIZATION
Realizations like the fact that my brain is just protective
Realizations that my identity has reeked through mud so many times
Realization that it wasn't just mistaking it for god but that this god is the mistake
Because the truth is that this god never sacrifices
He wrecks havoc till everything offers oblation
Truths like these that would put some on chokehold
But I won't waste good air, getting to a point where the only thing I incite is murderous rage.
Realization that for most, it looks just like that—a void to be fallen into, a place to quickly pull away from a single
glance down

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Echoes of Blindness

I grew up blind
The kind that fades away with the gaping eye of knowledge
word on the tip of every patriotic tongue was independence
Little did my shut brain know, sham was a better word for it

The physicality was removed, that is certain
But ideas and creeds are still sung, venerating them
It’s as if our souls were trained for the job-faultlessly
Yet freedom is cried out from the fantasy of the beholder

How could it be that they quantify us unchained?
When the model of sophistication and elegance embellished
Fall in the wondrous sculpture molded of anything but our culture
Language is deemed "uncouth,” evermore forgotten as ancestral splendor

Colonialism ended to let on a superior beneficial exploitation
What better shrewdness than one concocted in plain sight?
We’ve seen their pockets outgrow them with our gold, our dignity
While we’re outran by their wars, and still, we grow old-blind

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Grey

A few things represent me:
The color grey for example,
She's a beaute, isn't she?
I've felt drawn to her, especially when my soul had been just that, grey. 
It has then gone on to taint my soul, my heart, my mind at every occasion. 
It would have been a crime not to paint my destiny in her. 
But what else is there?
The familiar scent of rejection? 
The agonizing taste of nostalgia?
No?
Maybe the 21 awards I'd trade without a sigh's moment worth? 
The glasses that crack due to the heavy weight maintained in my scalp? 
The hauntingly mesmerizing words turned sour? 
A promise I'm not morose in person? 
I've often heard that you'd rather lay eyes on my soul's vessel than hear the cries of the same very soul.
Of course, I've only ever heard it from the third layer that daunts my soul, the very one that hurts at the mention of it. 
She's obviously accompanied by Grey; 
Like a fairytale in a child's dream, they become inseparable. 
But heed her warning.
Stay away from the sharp turn of phrase that she takes, because soon you'll be a spectator to the ever-running show of gut-wrenching twists that is my mind.