classic

Learn more about other poetry terms

To the rose with tears in her petals.   Who wilts every morning as the suns rays illuminate her wounds   Who’s roots dig deep but were grown too thin to drink in life  
double double, toil and trouble... the firelight quivers with every rumble; the old woman's hands stir up the pot; the air is stale with the smell of rot--  
Glass, Glass, Glass, It echoed in her mind,  as she could just never find the time, To try go and make that climb.
   I use to have stuffLots of stuff Stuff that I woreproudlyStuff that I carried around in my pocket stuffStuff that I woundplace in placesamong other stuffto be seenby others who probably had theirown stuff I really lovedmy stuff Now I can not ev
Over the horizon rests the deceased and the black skies and Smokey clouds lift the useless souls above ground There’s ritual drumming in the background Monstrous figures dance around a fire
You see and then connectFrom rebound to rebound, it’s all in your headthese broken souls, and misfortunate eventsare completely suppressed, once you take them to bedtrapped in a body of sinful debt
I took a commemorative driveBack to a town that glorified the wiseIt was 500 miles and three packs of cigarettesThe crisp, burning sound embedded in my head
Hello Darkness,
Am I invisibleWhen my arms wave for aidAm I bothering the peopleShunned and ashamedMy lungs fill with mistakesFour gallons of heart acheI fall to my endInside me
We start with theCrackling record of “Gloomy Sunday”Playing in the backgroundThe melody goes on slowlyBare feet moving carefullyto the romantic sound300 sextillion stars surround us
“We’re all just some punks, miserable creaturesWith our human goal to be: enhancing all of our featuresFurther into the caves, intentions become deeperLike killing your local preacher and to blame it on the teacher
Time creates a turning circleWhere my words playTangled and hurtful
In her eyes the world started off small and to her surpriseit was a sin to grow oldAge wasn't the purpose of her discovery, rather than the wisdom that came with no recovery
I am not a winner because I haven't fallen into the trap of sensitivityI have lost because my peers dramatize every little thingI am not a winner because I don't support implausible charities
We the peopleCreated the definition of insanityContinuously birthing another thesis to "protect" all of humanity
To whom it may concern,Yesterday I took a walk and I saw a birdHe flew in the opposite directionso I followedMy legs became weak, my head was so hollowHe led me directlyto a well
She used to trace her eyes with a path of blackI assumed it was to grab attentionShe would perfectly fill in her acne scars’ gapsMaybe it was to be the best additionBarbie dolls, and Maybelline models
Have you ever just sat down and wondered, Why poetry? Was it an escape from the harsh reality: Pain demanding to be felt The loss of your loved ones
    Everything just seems really fragile
 The sophistication of a thought virus
 That erupted in my soul
  There once was a girl I met Was the best girl out there yet From bein’ together To barely ever Someon’ else got who I didn’t get
  Antonia We remember I remember Our childhood Had its pros and cons We’re adults now All grown up It’s crazy how time flies The few moments I spend with you now
to start a letter no one knows, this generation has yet learned to grow in love, or simplicity, to be of what used to be,
My tangled feet drift through the weaving waves, scarlet scales hiding my skin. Eel whispers wind through my head, the poisonous words biting my ears.
My heart was broken       Neraly Choking                  On my own tears I tried to leave       But you held the key                  And after all these years... I fell hard in love
One Ignored  Lilies do not verbally express their want For your admiration But dear, look at her colors, do they not
Wile E. on the hunt to capture Roadey Devising devious schemes To get you here with me Backfiring
Subscribe to classic