Submissions by Lilliputian
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Snippets of me.
SELF POEM
Published
Yesterday 00:35am
Yesterday 00:35am
Quieting Void
I’ve let that flicker in my eyes die
with every hour I spent waiting
for someone else’s match to ignite mine,
until it burned me into ashes,
the flame faded,
and the match shriveled
into nothing.
The darkness welcomed me,
each time with no interlude.
Embracing what was left of me,
promising a way out of the matchbox,
a way to the quieting void.
with every hour I spent waiting
for someone else’s match to ignite mine,
until it burned me into ashes,
the flame faded,
and the match shriveled
into nothing.
The darkness welcomed me,
each time with no interlude.
Embracing what was left of me,
promising a way out of the matchbox,
a way to the quieting void.
#dark
#despair
#hurt #SelfWorth
#hurt #SelfWorth
17 reads
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd Apr 2025 00:45am
2nd Apr 2025 00:45am
Be Gone, Be Sorry
How could I not regret
These words I whispered inside?
When I looked at you,
And wished in silence you were gone.
I wish I didn’t feel
As if I’d find my life the moment you lost yours.
And yet, I still need you
To be sorry for all that you’ve done.
These words I whispered inside?
When I looked at you,
And wished in silence you were gone.
I wish I didn’t feel
As if I’d find my life the moment you lost yours.
And yet, I still need you
To be sorry for all that you’ve done.
#conflict
45 reads
SELF POEM
Published
30th Mar 2025 3:41am
30th Mar 2025 3:41am
Born to Wane
She was only twelve or so,
born to wane,
watching a life she didn’t choose.
She was only twelve or so,
her sky, devoid of moon and stars,
the ones she ran to,
cried to and told her dreams to.
She was only twelve or so,
in a world once pink,
now tainted with an indelible ink,
murky and dolorous.
She was only twelve or so,
swallowing down the harsh words
that kept her awake,
counting the ticks of the clock
until sunrise.
She was only twelve or so,
keeping the wraith below her bed,
sharing her toys with ...
born to wane,
watching a life she didn’t choose.
She was only twelve or so,
her sky, devoid of moon and stars,
the ones she ran to,
cried to and told her dreams to.
She was only twelve or so,
in a world once pink,
now tainted with an indelible ink,
murky and dolorous.
She was only twelve or so,
swallowing down the harsh words
that kept her awake,
counting the ticks of the clock
until sunrise.
She was only twelve or so,
keeping the wraith below her bed,
sharing her toys with ...
#grief
48 reads
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th Mar 2025 00:36am
25th Mar 2025 00:36am
Shelter Another
He gave the golden chain
and she, the pendant,
so I pieced them together.
Togetherness,
a word they often found unfamiliar,
as if they were two magnets
facing the same pole,
pushing each other apart,
refusing to stand near.
So I kept the necklace,
clasped and settled against my heart,
closer than they’d ever been.
The crib I first woke up in
was far from their hold,
and neither tried to reach for it.
The ground grazed my knees,
as I...
and she, the pendant,
so I pieced them together.
Togetherness,
a word they often found unfamiliar,
as if they were two magnets
facing the same pole,
pushing each other apart,
refusing to stand near.
So I kept the necklace,
clasped and settled against my heart,
closer than they’d ever been.
The crib I first woke up in
was far from their hold,
and neither tried to reach for it.
The ground grazed my knees,
as I...
#StreamOfConsciousness
#vulnerability
39 reads
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st Mar 2025 11:20pm
21st Mar 2025 11:20pm
Tears on My Pillow
tears fall
on my pillow
where my sorrows
are tucked to sleep
a hidden treasure
of diamond drops
buried deep
unseen yet unforgotten
an echo of tears
within my pillow
bleeding through
each night
on my pillow
where my sorrows
are tucked to sleep
a hidden treasure
of diamond drops
buried deep
unseen yet unforgotten
an echo of tears
within my pillow
bleeding through
each night
#sadness
66 reads
SELF POEM
Published
19th Mar 2025 1:06am
19th Mar 2025 1:06am
Persona of Clay
Bent and shrunken, this persona of clay I live with,
moulded by the hands of someone else’s words,
slowly erasing the contours of my every lineament.
Flawed and broken, this reflection of porcelain I wake up to,
a product born of another’s seed,
losing shape to their kneading hands.
I am nothing more than mere pottery,
beaten and rolled,
hammered and crafted,
stamped and fabricated,
to be of them.
moulded by the hands of someone else’s words,
slowly erasing the contours of my every lineament.
Flawed and broken, this reflection of porcelain I wake up to,
a product born of another’s seed,
losing shape to their kneading hands.
I am nothing more than mere pottery,
beaten and rolled,
hammered and crafted,
stamped and fabricated,
to be of them.
#SelfReflection
#SelfWorth
#weakness
77 reads
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Mar 2025 10:12pm
15th Mar 2025 10:12pm
Forever Lost
The glass dust
Will be forever lost
When we try to mend
What’s broken
Some pieces
Will remain unfound
As we try to sew
What’s torn
Will be forever lost
When we try to mend
What’s broken
Some pieces
Will remain unfound
As we try to sew
What’s torn
#despair
86 reads
SELF POEM
Published
5th Mar 2025 11:40pm
5th Mar 2025 11:40pm
Whispers of Her
My heart beats for two—she who was bruised,
and I who’s going along with time,
blinking the seconds away with no regard
to the broken figure far back in the past.
How cruel I have grown to betray her,
I, whom she trusts the most.
Muscling through the storms with a smile
on my lips, mouthing I am alright.
How can I be when she’s stuck in the dark
on her own, waiting for me to face her.
How can I when I’m so eager to feel the light,
as if the pain wasn’t as agonizing as she cried from.
Just how heartless I have...
and I who’s going along with time,
blinking the seconds away with no regard
to the broken figure far back in the past.
How cruel I have grown to betray her,
I, whom she trusts the most.
Muscling through the storms with a smile
on my lips, mouthing I am alright.
How can I be when she’s stuck in the dark
on her own, waiting for me to face her.
How can I when I’m so eager to feel the light,
as if the pain wasn’t as agonizing as she cried from.
Just how heartless I have...
#conflict
#emptiness
#hurt #SelfReflection
#hurt #SelfReflection
125 reads
SELF POEM
Published
4th Mar 2025 3:37am
4th Mar 2025 3:37am
Who Am I?
Slipping on a veil of lace
Etching a smile
Breakable under the surface
Where sorrow takes root
Almost distorted
This facade I craft
Woven from tears and strain
To conceal what threatens to break free
Through laughter, I act sane
Dissolving in amusement
With the crowd
As if I’m not at my lowest
And when I sit on my own
I see them laid bare
The stitches I keep unknown
Torn open evermore
I can’t recognize who I am anymore
Etching a smile
Breakable under the surface
Where sorrow takes root
Almost distorted
This facade I craft
Woven from tears and strain
To conceal what threatens to break free
Through laughter, I act sane
Dissolving in amusement
With the crowd
As if I’m not at my lowest
And when I sit on my own
I see them laid bare
The stitches I keep unknown
Torn open evermore
I can’t recognize who I am anymore
#SelfReflection
89 reads
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th Feb 2025 9:39pm
25th Feb 2025 9:39pm
Back to Clay
A flower has been moved out of a pot
where it was trapped in its soil,
to be settled in a garden,
free and boundless.
The flower can finally feel the tickles of the wind,
fluttering amidst the wide field’s frame,
where it can stretch out
without the enclosing walls of terra-cotta.
But what will become of the flower,
when it is being snatched from its heaven,
back to its origin,
back to clay?
where it was trapped in its soil,
to be settled in a garden,
free and boundless.
The flower can finally feel the tickles of the wind,
fluttering amidst the wide field’s frame,
where it can stretch out
without the enclosing walls of terra-cotta.
But what will become of the flower,
when it is being snatched from its heaven,
back to its origin,
back to clay?
#despair
#freedom
89 reads
LOVE POEM
Published
22nd Feb 2025 9:06pm
22nd Feb 2025 9:06pm
Art Piece
A warm smile, a lingering look,
and us under the rain,
were all it took for me to fall again.
Landing softly in the palm of your hand,
to be kept or to be broken,
fully surrendered to whichever you choose.
I’ll pick up my pieces, so it’s okay to ruin me
if it means getting a snippet
of what it feels like to have you.
You are a celestial event,
a rare sight to catch,
and I am but a skywatcher
waiting for your fleeting yet serene glimmer.
You are the perfect, flawless art piece, ...
and us under the rain,
were all it took for me to fall again.
Landing softly in the palm of your hand,
to be kept or to be broken,
fully surrendered to whichever you choose.
I’ll pick up my pieces, so it’s okay to ruin me
if it means getting a snippet
of what it feels like to have you.
You are a celestial event,
a rare sight to catch,
and I am but a skywatcher
waiting for your fleeting yet serene glimmer.
You are the perfect, flawless art piece, ...
#UnrequitedLove
140 reads
DARK POEM
Published
22nd Feb 2025 3:19pm
22nd Feb 2025 3:19pm
Loving the Lamppost _ with “Adagio”
Their world painted in shadows void of emotions
a gladiator of narcissist placenta dangling
on a decaying umbilical, idolized by fools
pampered and spoiled by the embryos of insanity
behind a firewall of debauchery, self-contained
from their own Cuckoo clock...half-baked
Manitou of inebriated veins gaslighting a lamppost
molding their faces and drawing a smile
to cover the rotting grudge that lies behind
it’s second nature, like taking a breath
looking down on you with a folie de grandeur
thinking they’re someone else ...
a gladiator of narcissist placenta dangling
on a decaying umbilical, idolized by fools
pampered and spoiled by the embryos of insanity
behind a firewall of debauchery, self-contained
from their own Cuckoo clock...half-baked
Manitou of inebriated veins gaslighting a lamppost
molding their faces and drawing a smile
to cover the rotting grudge that lies behind
it’s second nature, like taking a breath
looking down on you with a folie de grandeur
thinking they’re someone else ...
#collaboration
#hypocrisy
#vanity
77 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Lilliputian
