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hunterghess
-aspiring musician and writer -
22 Posts • 41 Followers • 18 Following
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Profile avatar image for Iseun1
Iseun1 in Poetry & Free Verse

Writer’s Block

She was a beautiful girl -

She was a beautiful

She wa

She

… I’m not feeling it today.

I’m a lonely guy

Acknowledge me!

I’m a lonely guy

I’m a lon

… Too desperate.

…

Fill me with me joy

With happiness

You mean everything to meao

Ashdflahsdfas

hioperwqef-hidf1230efn0q0=3rgv

Sdonwpoiuwefq[hdoqnerfnqoerf

!

…

I guess that’s enough writing for today.

-EPS

SheDreamer in Poetry & Free Verse

he misses himself more than he misses her.

his smiles are laced with sorrow,

and he takes his coffee black.

Loneliness sits at his table

every morning

for breakfast,

but she never

says

a word.

he surrounds himself with sunshine,

even though his soul's the moon.

Despair holds him close 

through the night;

he finds himself pressed up

against her spine,

as though never wanting

her to leave.

and his pillow is soaked

with tears and smiles.

[Author's note: this poem was inspired by the character Adrian Monk from the USA mystery series, Monk.]

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BrutalMadness in Poetry & Free Verse

The monster vs The angels

She realized that her future was bright

But her heart fell in love and now she's high

The smoke is her friend and the drug her addiction

He touches her while she's thinking about leaving

She allows him to embrace her in the clouds of the monster

Her tears don't stop by the mistake she has committed

He hurts her in the end hating her weakness

Her body is in pain and now she's not breathing

The clouds of the monster surround her

Her death is near and now she's screaming

She realized her future was bright

But she decided for a monster and a demon on her side while there were other that would be the angels of her path.

Challenge
Prose Challenge of the Week #31: Write a piece of poetry or prose based on this question: Your walls have ears, what do they hear? The winner will be chosen based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. The winner will receive $100. When sharing to Twitter, please use the hashtag #ProseChallenge
Cover image for post Every Night, and Indefinitely, by ALifeWitArt
Profile avatar image for ALifeWitArt
ALifeWitArt

Every Night, and Indefinitely

Dear Readers:

Watch now, as we listen closely to our reclusive subject reciting her poetry. She is siting two-fisted with her paper and pen, and a glass of wine. She considers her unraveling sanity night after night. As the moon rises, her intellect spins. She is either going mad or perhaps she is slightly touched. She is indeed overwhelmed by her senses fusing. Irregardless, she is different and obsessed with the human condition. She ruminates with manic creativity over the injustices of humanity, but hope lingers nonetheless. She is haunted, but feeds incessantly on such. Her empathy and pain duel, and the outcome is yet to be determined:

These walls have

Metaphorical stones

My personal Veil of Jericho

I am counting in sevens

A separation from

My innate discomforts and

Mainstream society

My synesthesia shouts in shades of grey

And these walls offer

An isolated haven

Found within and

Built for

My emotional protection

To discern my condition

Away from the noise

Confined to myself and

With all triggers removed

My intimate space is

Safe and solitary

Quietly entombing

In body and mind

And I pace within

This is my mausoleum

The flesh of my wit

Accompanied only

By a cacophony of

Voices weeping

[This is not altogether symbolic, but provides some truth to the subject's fear of pending insanity.]

For mercy

In poetic fragments

Inside my brain, and

The Goddess of Eris --

With Phobos and

Deimos, are ready

To protect me

Exposing the two-faced

To the light, but

In the sanctity of my darkness

Fighting demons

On my own behalf

Borne from a brokenness

My vulnerability shattered like glass

Coupled with

The massive weight of

My empathy pulsing

Disproportionate and consuming

My disfigured changeling

And torn between

The fibers of wool

Now swaddling me

With carnal suffocation

[With regard to matters of the heart, you see here: the subject's undoing is taking place in slow motion.]

To the lovers who scalped me,

And harvested my soul:

You left me for dead.

And I can rest

Within these walls

I am able to heal

[Contradictorily, the subject still ends with hope.]

Challenge
Prose Challenge of the Week #31: Write a piece of poetry or prose based on this question: Your walls have ears, what do they hear? The winner will be chosen based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. The winner will receive $100. When sharing to Twitter, please use the hashtag #ProseChallenge
Cover image for post concrete voyeurs, by Sawyer_Ross
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Sawyer_Ross

concrete voyeurs

our conversation today

made my walls

regret having ears

powerless to intervene

but

forced to listen

today my walls hear doubt

as I recite

your explanations

through my tears

as though somehow

my repeating them

will make them true

today my walls hear vulnerability

ashamed/defeated sobs

once I heard the door shut

usually reserved

for eight walls in total

the four of my bedroom

and the four of my shower

right now my walls hear fear (because it does have a sound)

it’s my wheezing through

a tightened chest

and the sound of my inhaler

as though somehow

asthma is the reason

I can’t breathe