#new poets club

[milkymarble]

went to the loony bin and all i got was this crappy poem

[divyawritespoems]

I no longer wish to be your sunlight and a sunflower. As for you, I was mere nobody. Because you didn't see the bright in me and I couldn't see how you neglected me.

For you i was just a glass, mere glass. As for you i only quenched your thirst. And, you didn't see the cool i gave you and i couldn't see how wide i could flow..

So far now since you've used me all, i refuse to add up my bits into your loop holes. Even if the tulips of your heart get dry and you get short of breath.

-Divya

[ivaspinoza]

Time is a Mirror

As the clock tick-tacks and sand runs through my hands, muscles, veins

That old thirst comes and goes in waves, cascades, what a shame:

A hug without arms, a look without lenses, the whole traffic stopped to see

What life was like when you're not here, when I'm feeding on destilated absence

In the mirror your image, unborn flower of spring, so delicate

So thin, in your time, the fingerprints, and in that last letter, all my sins

Things we wish were unseen, forgiven

Like the day I left behind the most important thing

Time doesn't clock back, but memories and what ifs do clock in

They create roots and later spread like weed

Through the land of your heart, and the land of your misery

What would a poet be, without poetry? What would a writer do without words to eat

What am I without you in this foreign world that sometimes means nothing to me

Shall we still pursue beauty? At what cost! I forgot how to weave stories

Now I just weave feelings and interdimensional sober experiences

I only taste the savoury, never the sweetness

I get drowned in dryness and interrupt life's fertile wetness

The natural design, the intelligent patterns of creation, the mirror or time

So hauntingly unforgiving

[ecrisettaistoi]

Négatif couleur

.

.

.

Ce n'est pas un poème,

ce n'est pas une chanson,

c'est un Je t'aime

pur, sans concessions,

toi mon oxygène,

toi mon oraison,

ce n'est pas un poème,

ce n'est pas une chanson,

c'est un Je t'aime

clamé à destination

de toi mon mécène,

garde-fou de ma raison.

Ce n'est pas un poème,

ce n'est pas une chanson,

sur moi l'anathème,

à moi coupe, poison.

Ce n'est qu'un Je t'aime

de plus pour ta collection,

de moi, aride Robinson

à toi, mon admirable Reine,

la mousson et la moisson,

le vison et le calisson,

toi, ma seule ligne

de flottaison.

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.

[wearethepoemspoetry]

When a Man Writes a Poem

After he writes a poem, a man may talk to his dog with a great loneliness as if, just then, he had given away all his worthwhile thoughts. And if he has no dog, he may turn on the radio quietly when he feels so alone to confirm that somebody else knows how to write words made of stone. If he has no radio, he may sit on the porch at midnight, breeze in his face, the smells of summer, a glass of whiskey. If there is no whiskey, then beer. He may suck the bottle clean with his thirst. Later, lying awake, he may hear locusts chirping, crying out to find their mates. If there are no locusts, then the blue noise of June that tells him life is bigger than any word he writes. He knows his sadness will only get worse, according to some law.

So he writes another poem, and repeats the cycle all over again.

[love-once-was]

Settle me into lavender ripples

Allow me a chance to change my ways

I’ve stayed here for days and days

Tinkering with the time and

Realizing that it might be too much to challenge

Always remembering that

It’s my moment to shine if I want it but

Waking up is a little off from the morning before

A nickel, a dime, I can’t seem to pick

Which coin will be the best to scratch these lottery tickets

We let the people put their perception into places we barely know

Showing us a road but not showing us all the ways we could go

Pick a path and hope it sticks

If it doesn’t, to hell with it

I loved it once and I’ll love it again

The mystery outlining the sequence in these circumstances

Take from me the doubt that draws out the worst

The ways we rehearse the thirst and how to quench it

Honesty is the best policy

But I’ll never police you on that

Spin a web weak enough to go on but

Strong enough to feel it

I’ve missed a lot but there’s a lot still to see

If we stop dwelling on the reasons to be still

Instead of the hope that keeps legs running

Blood pumping and

The future stunning

[cowardlyriver]

I want someone to ask me if I am okay. I want to have authority over someone's time. To call even if I know you're busy. I want you to make time for me. I want to call at 2am to say I don't remember my name will you please remind me. I want to call when I am panicking about an exam and be reminded that we are time and time is light and light is the sky and we are essentially sky-parts and star-parts and that the exam will go well. I want to worry about whether you are worried about me. I want to be sad and know it will not scare you away. I want to be bad and know it will not scare you away. I want to depend on someone. I want you to be protective. Ask me if I am okay. Leave with me if I am not okay. Above all, I want to be believed, completely and entirely.

[darichonne]

insta: @darichonne

[poemsbypogi]

You are Water and My Love is Fire

By: poemsbypogi

You are water. Quenching my thirst whenever I see you. And when you leave I’m left parched.

You douse my love for you. My love a burning fire that you extinguish.

You are water and my love is fire. Burning with passion and ready to engulf you with its flames. But you are water. Meant to drown my love.

You satisfy my thirst but also extinguish my love.

My love helpless in your presence.

Try as I may the flames unable to overwhelm you.

Gradually waning the flames eventually die.

But my love for you lives on as a spark ready to ignite at any moment in time.

[milkymarble]

collection

[divyawritespoems]

You are the pearl that blossoms into flowers, that bathes the air with its warming scent. That sparkles with grace and boasts its magnificence in the heart of the beholder. No less than a treasure beyond this universe, wait till she shows you off to all the looters.

-Divya

[irregular-x]

I find myself standing

Under the million bullets that fall

where the rain comforts me

Like fire down in my heart

I sometimes remember

That time she left

An astounding death

Where the fireflies became deaf

Silver headed white cotton eyed deer

Malignant forces upon my fear

Bronze skin upon my heart

I will remember 

I will remember

That day of fear - Irregular.x

[mycollectioncloud]

Worst Fears.

Most of my worst fears have come true If this is the case And I’ve made it this far All my wildest dreams can too

[ecrisettaistoi]

14 juillet

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.

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Liberté

de fermer sa gueule, de ne pas manifester,

de travailler jusqu’à épuisement, de se faire taper dessus

en manifestation, d’être convoqué par les pandores

pour des slogans, de finir sa vie avec presque rien,

de n’avoir aucune chance, de mourir pour un contrôle.

Egalité

pour tous, enfin, surtout pour certains mais pas pour d’autres

devant la loi, devant la justice, liberté, liberté chérie de ne pas

faire de vagues, de ne pas faire de bruit, d’accepter son sort

comme le veau à l’abattoir.

Fraternité

absente, perdue, diluée, dévoyée, limitée aux seuls nantis,

blancs, riches tandis qu’on meurt par centaines en Méditerranée,

tandis qu’on crève au RSA, tandis que d'autres se gavent comme

dans la Grande bouffe de Ferreri jusqu'à en exploser.

Liberté, égalité, fraternité, sous les oriflammes tricolores d'un pays fracturé, désuni, exsangue, indécent, pourri.

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[wearethepoemspoetry]

Red is the New Black

one night everything exploded

and all i could think of was your face

and your name

and your eyes

and your fingertips

and your heart

i swear i’ll never cry for you

i’ll never cry over you

WHY THE HELL AM I CRYING SO HARD

you never say a goddamn word

and i hate you for it

just say something dammit

just take what you want

and leave me here dead on the floor

and i’ll bleed all over this carpet

where my heart grows around your knife

i’ve always looked good in red 

and your hands have always been beautiful

when they’re wrapped around my neck

i won’t die for you, even if you beg

so don’t waste my goddamn time

you’ve already wasted my life

you’ve wasted me away

you never said “how are you”

i should have never expected a change

i’ve always looked good in red

[love-once-was]

How can you put words to the whispers

When the root of conversation is emotion

Plaguing myself with late night drives

I arrive at a decision but is that the destination

Or is it an infestation in my mind

To keep wandering all of the time

Winking and wooing, true to myself

Like a fleeting love is better than

The lack of safety and comfort in the situation

No more ticking floorboards

I have confessed my demons away

Recovered by hope and confident in the choice

To be a little bit better everyday

I know that time has chosen me for

Larger things than to battle it

There is a line to a place

And for both of our sakes

I will be there