Submissions by Page_Writer (Mad Girl)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Poet. Dreamer. Hopeless Romantic. Music Lover. Avid Reader. Writer. Mother. Storyteller. Neurotic.
SELF POEM
Published
22nd Oct 2015 6:07am
22nd Oct 2015 6:07am
Wish (Pint-Sized Poem #46)
I wish I knew
I wish I knew
I wish I knew (what to do).
I wish I knew
I wish I knew
I wish I knew (what to do).
I wish I knew
I wish I knew
I wish I knew (what to do).
I wish--
I wish--
I wish--
I wish--
I wish I wasn't (so confused).
I wish I knew
I wish I knew (what to do).
I wish I knew
I wish I knew
I wish I knew (what to do).
I wish I knew
I wish I knew
I wish I knew (what to do).
I wish--
I wish--
I wish--
I wish--
I wish I wasn't (so confused).
581 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
30th Sep 2015 4:50pm
30th Sep 2015 4:50pm
Go
You want to leave.
Then leave--
You want to go.
Then go--
See if I care...
You walk out.
You yell at me.
You push me around.
Blame me for everything.
Then accuse me of pitying myself.
Cause I hate myself.
I can't stand to look at myself.
I can't stand to look at our son.
I can't stand. . .
Just leave me if you're going to.
Stop playing with my heart.
Stop pucking at the strings.
Just leave me and never come back.
Don't say you love me. (cause you don't)
Don't say you're sorry. (cause you're not)
Don't say...
Then leave--
You want to go.
Then go--
See if I care...
You walk out.
You yell at me.
You push me around.
Blame me for everything.
Then accuse me of pitying myself.
Cause I hate myself.
I can't stand to look at myself.
I can't stand to look at our son.
I can't stand. . .
Just leave me if you're going to.
Stop playing with my heart.
Stop pucking at the strings.
Just leave me and never come back.
Don't say you love me. (cause you don't)
Don't say you're sorry. (cause you're not)
Don't say...
786 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
14th Sep 2015 2:59am
14th Sep 2015 2:59am
Memoir
Earlier this morning,
I was walking down the front stairs.
When a blast of warm air hit me,
that smelled of dust in an old hallway.
Reminded me of my childhood home,
the front hallway and the second floor.
And then there was a chill,
early morning summer chill that reminded me.
Of Saturday mornings
and grocery shopping with my grandfather.
When he was alive
and I use to live with him.
And I stopped.
Standing there.
Untangling my earbuds.
Plugging in the jack.
Pressing play.
And I thought:
How nice it was to...
I was walking down the front stairs.
When a blast of warm air hit me,
that smelled of dust in an old hallway.
Reminded me of my childhood home,
the front hallway and the second floor.
And then there was a chill,
early morning summer chill that reminded me.
Of Saturday mornings
and grocery shopping with my grandfather.
When he was alive
and I use to live with him.
And I stopped.
Standing there.
Untangling my earbuds.
Plugging in the jack.
Pressing play.
And I thought:
How nice it was to...
601 reads
3 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
3rd Sep 2015 10:40am
3rd Sep 2015 10:40am
Trust
Why do we trust?
When they all disappear...
When they all turn to dust...
When they all trip...
And they all fall...
Why do we let them in?
When we're never going to see them again...
I trusted her.
It'd been so long.
But she had to go.
And move away.
And in a few days I'll be seeing someone new.
I don't want to be angry.
But I am.
And even though I cried.
I know it won't change anything.
I just have to make the best of it.
Castrophic thinking...
That's what she said.
In one of our first sessions,...
When they all disappear...
When they all turn to dust...
When they all trip...
And they all fall...
Why do we let them in?
When we're never going to see them again...
I trusted her.
It'd been so long.
But she had to go.
And move away.
And in a few days I'll be seeing someone new.
I don't want to be angry.
But I am.
And even though I cried.
I know it won't change anything.
I just have to make the best of it.
Castrophic thinking...
That's what she said.
In one of our first sessions,...
848 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
24th Jul 2015 9:12am
24th Jul 2015 9:12am
Not Again
It's been so long.
These places. . .
These faces. . .
Everything is so new.
So fresh and strange.
But then somethings never change.
How many times can someone
expect me to write the same story
over and over again?
Depression--
Songs--
Fictional accounts--
Heartbreak--
It was my fault.
I was the cheater.
But after fifty million poems
in which I blamed her, me and everyone else in-between.
I don't want to write another poem about it for the life of me.
Am I the only one that's getting tired of hearing my own voice?
My...
These places. . .
These faces. . .
Everything is so new.
So fresh and strange.
But then somethings never change.
How many times can someone
expect me to write the same story
over and over again?
Depression--
Songs--
Fictional accounts--
Heartbreak--
It was my fault.
I was the cheater.
But after fifty million poems
in which I blamed her, me and everyone else in-between.
I don't want to write another poem about it for the life of me.
Am I the only one that's getting tired of hearing my own voice?
My...
719 reads
STORY POEM
Published
19th Jun 2015 00:03am
19th Jun 2015 00:03am
"Heart Beat"
Pounding of a dull drum.
Flapping of a bird's wings.
The ticking of a clock.
The beat of a meteronome.
That's what his heart sounds like.
When it's whispering in my ears.
Echoing inside of my soul.
It makes my heart beat in time with his.
Like an ancient language that only hearts know.
His whispers a question.
And mine says the answer.
And together they remind us that we are alive.
His heart beat, followed by mine.
This is first love in it's prime.
- v.b.
Flapping of a bird's wings.
The ticking of a clock.
The beat of a meteronome.
That's what his heart sounds like.
When it's whispering in my ears.
Echoing inside of my soul.
It makes my heart beat in time with his.
Like an ancient language that only hearts know.
His whispers a question.
And mine says the answer.
And together they remind us that we are alive.
His heart beat, followed by mine.
This is first love in it's prime.
- v.b.
692 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
12th Jun 2015 8:31pm
12th Jun 2015 8:31pm
"Constellations"
He likes to paint pictures &
play connect the dots in the sky.
I like to watch him &
see the world through his eyes.
- v.b.
play connect the dots in the sky.
I like to watch him &
see the world through his eyes.
- v.b.
554 reads
0 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
12th Jun 2015 8:03am
12th Jun 2015 8:03am
"First Kiss"
Party game.
Alcohol bottles.
Closet, seven minutes.
Locked door.
Cotton shirt, firm chest.
Chain around his neck.
His hands were warm and calloused--
On my neck and then my cheek.
Tilting my chin up.
And his lips.
Were awkward at first.
And slightly rough.
But they were warm and inviting.
And I didn't want to stop.
Even when I couldn't breathe.
And I felt like I was running out of air.
And he pinned me back against the wall.
And I felt like lifetimes passed around us.
The world stopped.
Then spun...
Alcohol bottles.
Closet, seven minutes.
Locked door.
Cotton shirt, firm chest.
Chain around his neck.
His hands were warm and calloused--
On my neck and then my cheek.
Tilting my chin up.
And his lips.
Were awkward at first.
And slightly rough.
But they were warm and inviting.
And I didn't want to stop.
Even when I couldn't breathe.
And I felt like I was running out of air.
And he pinned me back against the wall.
And I felt like lifetimes passed around us.
The world stopped.
Then spun...
717 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Jun 2015 12:02pm
2nd Jun 2015 12:02pm
Hard On Myself
I've recently been told that I'm too hard on myself.
Am I?
Is it true?
Do I seem too hard on myself?
You people should know.
You read about my rantings and emotions.
On this underground lot.
So, do I seem too hard on myself?
When I was little there was this teacher.
Whom had a sign on the wall of her classroom.
That had an English rhyme on it that was suppose to help us with grammer.
It went like this:
"Good, better, best never let it rest.
Until your good is better and your better is best."
I remember it since...
Am I?
Is it true?
Do I seem too hard on myself?
You people should know.
You read about my rantings and emotions.
On this underground lot.
So, do I seem too hard on myself?
When I was little there was this teacher.
Whom had a sign on the wall of her classroom.
That had an English rhyme on it that was suppose to help us with grammer.
It went like this:
"Good, better, best never let it rest.
Until your good is better and your better is best."
I remember it since...
658 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Jun 2015 5:16am
2nd Jun 2015 5:16am
Just Another Day
Sometimes, when I'm left
alone, with my thoughts--
I think about horrible,
terrible, aweful stuff
that is going to happen
to my family or my friends,
in the future or myself.
And it scares me and I
don't know how to make it
stop."
She looks at me says:
"That's catastrophic thinking,
everyone does it but some
people-- Like you, whom have
had so many bad things happen
in such a short amount of time
expect something bad to happen
after a while. And so your mind
makes up all the...
alone, with my thoughts--
I think about horrible,
terrible, aweful stuff
that is going to happen
to my family or my friends,
in the future or myself.
And it scares me and I
don't know how to make it
stop."
She looks at me says:
"That's catastrophic thinking,
everyone does it but some
people-- Like you, whom have
had so many bad things happen
in such a short amount of time
expect something bad to happen
after a while. And so your mind
makes up all the...
912 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
10th May 2015 8:36pm
10th May 2015 8:36pm
"Alone"
The silent pocket in the bustling crowd.
The feeling of being the one nobody sees.
The ignored--
The forgotten--
The left behind--
The one by herself--
The one losing her mind--
The silent.
The stoic.
The solitary.
On the outside because nobody wanted to let her in.
There I am.
a l o n e
- v. b.
The feeling of being the one nobody sees.
The ignored--
The forgotten--
The left behind--
The one by herself--
The one losing her mind--
The silent.
The stoic.
The solitary.
On the outside because nobody wanted to let her in.
There I am.
a l o n e
- v. b.
806 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
10th May 2015 8:34pm
10th May 2015 8:34pm
"Wild Eyes"
wild eyes
blue & green
see right
through me,
into my soul
and all the
spaces in-between
my heart quickens
when you say:
my name,
look at me in
that clearly
intended way
with a smile
that puts the
Cheshire cat's to
shame
those wild eyes--
they can drive
a girl insane.
- v. b.
blue & green
see right
through me,
into my soul
and all the
spaces in-between
my heart quickens
when you say:
my name,
look at me in
that clearly
intended way
with a smile
that puts the
Cheshire cat's to
shame
those wild eyes--
they can drive
a girl insane.
- v. b.
668 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Page_Writer (Mad Girl)
