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Best Poems Written by Jane Doe

Below are the all-time best Jane Doe poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jane Doe Poem

In Filipino

Sinubukan kitang tikisin,
Sadyang inaral ko kung paano ka saktan.
Pero ikaw ay siyang indulhensiya at indulhente
At ako ay sabik, sakim, at yamot sa katinuan.

Kaya't sa huli, ganoon paman din ang kalabasan;
Inuusig mo ako, at ako, ginugusto ko naman.
Pananaigin at papahintulutang lasunin mo
Ang dugo, utak, pananaw, at puso ko.

Details | Jane Doe Poem

Thinking of You

Transitioning to a state of indifference to you
Fading out of desperation
Something in me has been reawakened
That I had thought long snuffed out

She makes me feel something other than guilty
Takes me away from overthinking 
So forgive me, if my smiles no longer necessitate
Thinking of you

Details | Jane Doe Poem

Took Gor Granted

The sky is the sky; the sea is the sea.
And treetops remain one of my favorite things.
Breaking into the palette of the afternoon sun.

In all these things I love — you hold no sway.
Puts into perspective how skewed I feel around you.
Begs to ask why I am so affected by your unwitting words.

You don't paint the sky its sky blue.
You can't call the rise of the oceans' tides.
You don't command tree limbs to stroke crepuscular rays.

The sky remains the sky.
The sea remains the sea.
And canopies of great trees will continue to greet the warmth of the fading light.

In all these things — you hold no sway.
But its seems after all, getting hurt is one of my favorite things.
Breaking into the lines of rational thought and sanity

Details | Jane Doe Poem

Ash

And then we fan the flames to such a height, they glow bright, acridity burning our eyes.

But so easily we forget the reasons as to why; we, we are stuck blind.

Still we chuck embers, blow hot the coals. We throw torches unto tattered cloth, we empty oil unto souls.

We inhale the rising tarry smoke, and oh how we choke. 

And gag. 

And burn all the more.

For in that one moment as the fumes flocculate - coalesce - we cultivate this pretend hate; we destroy ourselves to sate the proclivity to agitate.

But as the cloying oil seeps into our cores; as we dig through skin to reach the bones; I wonder when, through tearing, we'll grasp our slickened souls?

And if then, will we find the lucency we've lost; the clarity we threw to feed the roaring flames?

Because the fire has raged and left only dying light. And ashes cannot be reborn into mankind, if belief has stuttered and already died.

So tell me how will I preserve my ashes tonight?

Please, I need to.

Please, I...

I'm...

I...

You.