I was walking in the garden I heard the cry of crows under the cedar tree. I was surprised, I saw a crow was lifeless on the ground
By Karan w. about a year ago in Poets
It’s more important to press pen to paper Before the thoughts disappear into vapor But an aberration of the mind Like the clocks chiming
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Like coffee and cigarettes Unfiltered and raw Is how I draw the thoughts from my mind Sometimes it’s the only way I can unwind
Unfiltered and unflattering A little of this A spattering of that I always write off the cuff There’s not much time to think about it
A stream of consciousness poem A continuous flow sonnet ordinarily streams openly, catching contemplations and impressions as they happen, without sticking to customary graceful designs. Here is a model:
By Rajendran Arumugamabout a year ago in Poets
The mind sees what the eyes refuse to see The road to hell is paved with well behaved slaves Constructing staves to save my mind
Humankind having ample exemplars to sample Hath deemed the fruits of your mind void of substance subsurface to rind.
By Chris Zabout a year ago in Poets
Adorned by the atrocity, bemoaned by the call In the dire stance of existence, the elusiveness of stillness in its mirth had its stall.
By Hridya Sharmaabout a year ago in Poets
That face, burnt and blackened by the sun, is still making a ruckus in my memories. Age is resting at the same place. A thick needle and a piece of leather are dancing between the trembling fingers.
You’re my hedonism Your kisses have saved me From my isthmus of sorrow You indulge my whims And I hang on your words Forever tied together
I used to imagine your face I used to look for you in every place I used to wonder what you were doing But then I realized it was all a waste
Introduction My Muse remarked on how blue the sky was, not a single cloud. I thought that was a cue for a sonnet. The music is "Northern Sky" by Nick Drake which is sort of appropriate.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Poets
