Poems On Tumblr - Blog Posts

Cogito, Ergo Sum

I write ugly things.

That’s who I am.

I expel the bad onto paper.

Otherwise it gets stuck in me. Emotional constipation.

That’s probably why people hurt each other.

They need to get rid of it. The ache.

Can’t keep it in. Easiest way to get rid of hurt is to pass it onto someone else.

Most readers like it though. The hurt.

Look at Bukowski and Hemingway. They’re successful. Apart from the alcoholism and suicide.

I don’t understand them all that well.

You’re too young to understand, they tell me.

I don’t know about that.

I think I just don’t understand men who create their own suffering.

I’ve had enough pain. Disease and dead friends and all that.

Good thing for a writer though. To suffer.

Suffering brings validity to narrative.

I hate that.

I hate that perspective only matters if the writer has gone through something horrible.

Suffering adds to character. Solidifies it.

I also hate that.

Identity should not be so fickle.

It should be made of curiosity, interests, relationships, passion, and peace.

It should be made, fostered, cared for.

Not victimized.

But maybe that’s just the way we are.

We must rot so that others will salvage our blossoms.

We must dish out counterfeit pain to remember we are alive.

Mortal.

Look at me, you say, beaten red.

I bleed therefore I am.

The weapon isn’t sharp,

but it wounds all the same—

innocence worn

like a well-practiced game.

A smile, a shrug,

a task left undone,

they play the fool

but they've already won.

Each failure rehearsed,

each “oops” on display,

leaving the other

to clean up, to stay.

They dodge the load

with a clumsy excuse,

while someone else tightens

what they set loose.

It’s not lack of skill,

nor honest mistake—

it’s a quiet control

they refuse to forsake.

The cost isn't loud,

but it's heavy with strain,

a silent exchange

of effort and pain.

So call it what is—

not careless or dense,

but a choice to avoid

by feigned incompetence.

And the one who bears it

feels furious within,

caught in a loop

they didn’t begin.

“Can’t You Just…”

A shrug, a grin, “You’re better, see?”

Dropped the ball—again—carefree.

Burnt the toast, forgot the chore,

Left the mess and asked for more.

A tangled web of small mistakes,

Too many spills, too few breaks.

The other watches, calm in face,

But furious deep beneath the grace.

“It’s not on purpose,” they insist,

While every task is somehow missed.

Funny how the job goes fine

When no one's watching, drawing the line.

A clumsy act, rehearsed, refined—

A quiet scheme that’s undermined.

It isn’t skill they lack or lose,

It’s choice—they’ve learned to not to choose.

So one picks up what’s left behind,

The weight, the work, the ties that bind.

It’s not that they can’t carry their share—

It’s knowing someone else will care.

Pardon me if I'm wrong

Perhaps I'm just an idiot

I do not take advantage of the road I take

Paved with the blood sweat and tears

Of my ancestors

I do not go to college just for a degree

The paper at the end of four years does not matter to me

The classes I take do not simply fulfill a requirement

I do not study latin just to say Pulchra Femina es to a friend

I looked at someone today, and

Yes, I was colored by curiosity

Becasue my life is more than a few words

Read from a computer screen for a test I will take on Friday

I do not learn to say I know

I learn to expect I know nothing

The classes I attend have a purpose

The money I pay

The debt I choose

Is not for you or my employer

To say that it didn't matter

Yes, my school is too expensive

And yes, the programs I participate in will decorate my resume

But today, I looked at my friends

Crowded around a table to have fun

Like childish adults just trying to make sense of everything

And I knew I never wanted anything less

Then an education.

I want to learn from my peers

Engage in this class,

Maybe try hard or not try at all

But give this road a chance to shine

For the rhyme

I will make of it

If education was free how many people

Would take a class just to know

What color frogs turn in winter

And if Edgar allen poe knew her.

I embrace my debt because it is a privilege

To know my family supports my decision

Even if my bank account runs dry

And the stress piles high

Because being educated is important

At least to me

And I can't

For the life of me

Think of a reason to ban it.

The children in the schools don't know their letters,

But they know how to hide from an active shooter,

They can't use their mind but

They can leave me behind

In a race for their lives.

Maybe I misspoke

I need to know my place, right?

I can't be too woke,

But dammit I can fucking fight.

Fight for the children who deserve to read,

Fight for the young adults who yearn to be

In college

Fight for the women who are fighting for their right,

Fight for the man I call my best friend,

Whose very existence is the definition on rebellion

Fight for the change I want to see,

Even if that change means going back to just yesterday

Rabid

I often think I an rabid.

My heart races,

my eyes dart

my hands tremble.

My teeth ache

to dig into

your shoulder

My nails score

lines in your

hip cradle

You coon and stroke my hair

You kiss my bloody lips

You hold my stained hands.

Waking up

feels like

walking in syrup.

You've moved on

My teeth are dull.

Heart and mind

When you are born

you are given two things,

heart and mind.

From little age you are told:

"Be careful with the heart,

it is a fragile thing. "

"Sharpen and strengthen your mind,

for it will serve you right. "

But no one tells you,

how fragile mind can be,

how easily it breaks

and how tough one's heart is,

how hard it is to get inside.

No one talks about the way

they work so closely together.

No one could say

the truth about their bond.

No one tells you

how it hurts when one breaks.

Just one thing they let you know:

"Be kind. For it is your shield and your sword."

But how can that be,

when your arms are trembling

and your eyes are filled with water?

The Voided Lovers

The voided lovers Must never be seen. They cannot dance in the light of day, And the moon will not grace them with her gleam.

They may only embrace on the darkest of nights, They may only whisper sweet nothings in a crowd. They may only stroll hand in hand through forgotten streets, Where not even the lamplights dare to look down.

They will never feel the warmth on their lover’s skin, Only the cold acidity the wind provides. Yet embrace they do— Through the dark and glacial nights.

They make cathedrals of alleyways, Temples of whispered breath. Where every glance is sacred, And every touch defies death.

They are sunless, Moonless, Rid of light— Yet their love is never tuneless.

Their love is their dance, Their love is their light, Their love is the warmth On the cold winter’s night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Old English Version:

The voided lovers, cursed by fate, Must dwell in shadows, lone and late. They dare not dance 'neath sunlit skies, Nor bask where moonlight softly lies.

Their trysts are veiled in sable gloom, Their voices hushed, as though a tomb Had sealed their vows in silence deep— Where not e'en gaslight dares to creep.

The world, austere and cruelly drawn, Would scorn the touch their hands have known. So chill the wind, so sharp the air— Yet still they linger, pale and bare.

They fashion cathedrals from alleyways, Altars of breath, in spectral haze. Each glance a hymn, each touch defied The death that stalks where love must hide.

They are sunless, Moonless, Forsaken by flame— Yet hearts unlit bear passion's name.

Their love is their lantern, Their solace, their plight, Their warmth in the shivering Grasp of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a poem I wrote while bored and thinking of some of my friends from my DR's and OC's

I've been really getting into rewriting my poetry into old English because I think it makes it more romantic and melancholic

Let me know your thoughts on it!

Def not morbid poem

Can one tell I got depression? I don't think so...

Lines Written in my Cage.

It feels suffocating

Lies so excruciating

The love runs deep

But I might never keep

With lies and mind illusions

I hate how you've got me having delusions

You're giving me hypertension

Now I'm in another dimension

This love is toxic

It's starting to get chaotic

I'm in my zone, chill within my bones

While I'm skipping stones

Staring at the sky

I'm trying not to say bye

My life is going down

Maybe I should move to a new town

Start again, new friends, maybe family

Get my things in harmony

And maybe then I'll finally have peace

Finally get away from the beast

Away from all the abuse

Not drowning in all the misuse

With people crowded like flies

Yet we're trying to get to the skies

My head is pounding

Yet my imagination is unbounding

If I die who's gonna remember me

Maybe my grave will be the key

My mind is a delusional trajectory

I'm hoping I find a new sanctuary

To anyone who's at this stage

I think all I needed was a page

This I think is by far the longest poem I've written👌. I had help from @pheonix-notthebird. She started helping me at "Maybe my grave will be the key". Thanks a lot you were really helpful and I hope y'all like the poem :) . PS: I chose that title cuz Cage nd Page rhyme and it's like start & end so ¯\😋/¯

Roses once red

Now wilted and dead

Memories of love

Now filled with dread

Heartache and tears, the pain won't fade

In a lonely world

My soul aches and sways

My poems make me feel like I'm depressed😭

Roses are red

Skies are grey

Our once true love

Now fading away

In moments of darkness

In the face of lies

Nothing is left

But the madness in our eyes

Wow...

Roses once red

Now withered and dead

Skies once blue

Now dark in hue

Silence once comforting

Now so suffocating

Can't believe I gave it all up

Just to be with you

This is a poem I wrote a while ago and I read it again and it made me think of Ghost Town, hope y'all like it 🙃

In the middle of the night

I lay awake

Patiently waiting for daybreak

Then I hear the sounds of a fight

People cheering

Whilst some are screaming

But yet I lay there dreaming

Wishing I was daring

Though I know it won't last

I know it'll keep going

The river shall continue flowing

But then again, it's all in the past

It's not that good but I wrote this at 4am cuz I couldn't sleep 🥲

Roses may be red

And the skies may be blue

But nothings okay

If I'm not in hue

With psychopaths laughing

And suicidals dying

The only thing working

Are my tears falling

No caption idea 🙃

Happy Valentine’s!

To celebrate, I made a silly poem!(it’s an assignment and it isn’t targeted to anyone at all lol)

Amica Mea Ad Te

On the days with heavy rain

Where worry clouds the stressed mind

Your existence keeps the soul in the body bound

Words like a bandage to a wound

Soaking up the sadness that bleeds and reassuring that everything would be ok

Your smile is something to cherish and remember

Your face a sentient picture framed in gold

Your the light that shines on a cold empty night

And to that light, I say, I love you

(Hehe…the title is Latin for “My love for you”)

A constellation of scars (with a soldiers story to tell)

A constellation of scars, they tell the story Of a young soldier, beaten and battle weary The taunts, the jeers of those who seek validation The whispers, the rumours of those who see a threat

A collection of memories, they tell the story Of a bright young child, ready to find glory Studying hard for years to come To see their families proud faces When they hit number one

A tale of joy, fleeting yet forever Their mother, their sister, their brother, their father The times spent together with friends Now only a fantasy

The reality of life, an empty black hole The void in their chest where a heart once called home That absence of feeling that clings to their skin The guilt running through their veins that they cloak themselves in

The temptation of pain, just an itch at first Grows to be unbearable in the times it is worst The scabs on their skin that refuse to heal As they are peeled back again and again For that brief chance to feel

The tunnel of darkness continued to grow Would it ever end? They really didn’t know A call from the shadows in the form of a blade Said it brought peace and a moment of escape

The darkness swarmed in on them, promised to keep them safe In the midst of their pain, they didn’t realise it was a cage As the cuts grew in number on their arms, legs, chest and heart They still felt nothing when skin and blade were apart

As the darkness continued to swallow them whole Their loved ones were worried “Where did they go?” And so the acting began, strings of denies “I’m just tired.” They would say, weaving a web full of lies

The fragile strands tightened and coiled Constricting even them into being embroiled. “Maybe I really am just tired, or overreacting,” “Maybe it’s just for attention, to try and feel what I’m lacking.”

The coils wound tight, choking them slowly And though they didn’t realise it, they were succumbing And so the thoughts of death started creeping onto their head “I feel nothing even when cutting, I’m better off dead.”

An attempt was carried out, though they can barely remember a thing Except waking up in hospital, alive and breathing Their mother had found them, draped over the bathroom sink Wrists slit, bleeding out An ambulance was called There was still no feeling

A year had passed and there was still no sign of the end The web of lies had been broken, but the void in their chest remained Even while being smothered with affection There was still no feeling

The world kept rushing past, they stopped trying to keep up months ago But one day it seemed to halt For just a second There was feeling once more

They had been out with their friends Who hadn’t given up just yet On making them feel again Yet another attempt that was set to fail But it didn’t

It was a simple thing really A joke, a smile and then a tidal wave of laughter Seeing the joy that they thought was lost It caused something to stir

An echo of happiness, plucked from a heartstring It resonated through their body And the void seemed to shrink ever so slightly There was life in them yet

Five years passed and they were still no better That echo being the only thing keeping them tethered to this life Why am I not better yet? I should be happy, I should be healed

They began to notice the world The whispers, the rumours Began to notice How the scars littered their skin

Their body, an art piece For those who merely skimmed the surface, it was dangerous and all consuming So they avoided it Criticising the artist to deny their looming feelings of dread To ignore how deep the scars ran

But to those who saw through the critics’ remarks Those who looked deeper Who broke down the walls Who braved the aggression, the masks and the cruelty And saw what lay behind it all A damaged soul, trying to fix themselves with cut hands

The soul of a broken child who grew up too fast A child with a fragile glass heart Shattered to pieces by the harshness of life The expectations, the judgement, the reality It was shattered to protect the holder from the worst But they were still left with their constellation of scars

Those who saw the true meanings were sometimes driven to madness The weight of it too much for their aching shoulders Too weak to carry yet another burden But there were those who could. Those who saw and still stayed Those who showed them, the echo of a life Pulsing through them still

That constellation of scars, that collection of memories, they tell the story Of a brave young warrior, battling enemies even some of the most experienced had never encountered. How exhausted they were, how sick of fighting Who gave up trying to fight back those monsters Who had lost all faith

But who had life in them A pulse that refused to let go Clinging to them even as the darkness led them, Deeper and deeper into despair Echoing constantly, begging for them to hear A pulse that people helped them find

That brought them from their knees That told the young soldier, “Don’t loose hope yet, I’m still beating.” The young soldier hadn’t given up yet They would be victorious

Their constellation of scars, told of memories Good and bad, joyous and despairing The memories of their life past And would tell of the life to come

As the new scars were added, the jeers stayed the same, Unwavering in their goal to hurt

But still, they lived Though their scars never fully healed, their pain never fully erased The void never fully gone

There were good days Where their scars seemed non existent And there were bad days Which broke them all over again

But what was important Was that even if the light disappeared from the tunnel, Even if the dark seemed inescapable, They would always have the pulse in their chest Cheering them on, keeping them going Awaiting the victory only they can achieve. Steadily beating.

[dear bird,

protect me.

the fall is too high. catch me.

i'm not ready to fly. eat me.

in your inside, take me.

don't leave me, so i can live in you.

see through you

what i can't be

be for two, for we, for i

and drown deep above

[in the vacuum.

jales.

I can tolerate the discomfort that comes from not being liked by others.

What I cannot tolerate is living out of alignment with my values and staying silent about things I care about just to make sure others like me.

I will go to a gluten free place for you

I will find options of how we can do things together

And not have to worry about things like limits

GUYS…IK ITS WEIRD TO DO SELF INSERTS SOMETIMES BUT….I drew this recently and thought i would share my love for bakugo since his death was animated recently 😔😔😔

© yammpi3 2024. All work belongs to @yammpi3. You can repost if you want to support my blog/art! Please don't modify, or steal in any way on ANY platform. I will piss and shit on your lawn if you do.

Rose are red

It’s been a gast

WITH THIS POWER I SUMMON

DIVINE SKELETON DEATH BLAST

When we were kids we dreamed of discovery and exploration. We dreamed of exploring the furthest reaches of the universe and the darkest depths of the oceans. We dreamed of technological advances only explored in sci-fi.

Then we learned.

We learned about unjust hatred between neighbors and families for how one person might be born. We learned about fear and greed and the destruction it leaves in it's wake.

The more we learned, the smaller those dreams grew. Now very few of us dream outside of sleep, and even our dreams are plagued with nightmares. Many of us have learned it's easier - safer - to kill our dreams than to let the disappointment consume our last shred of hope.

When we were kids we dreamed.

Now, we only dare hope to make it through the year alive.

Anneshwa Paul / A melancholic December morning

I wanted to swim away from the calm river, to sail in the rumbling waves of the stormy sea. I wanted to know the depths of it, I wanted to feel the shake, ready to break free. I wanted to dive deeper, feel it close, know its layers. Insanity gripped me as i got closer, because in its extremity i found me, and my mind couldn't comprehend its own oceanic complexity.

- Anneshwa

Your eyes ignited the unexpected wildfires that my little cottage heart wasn't ready for. Now, i burn, my home burns and your eyes burn while watching everything else flaring into ashes.

Anneshwa Paul

Seal my honey drenched lips, with your petal soft kiss. Place your heaven made palm on my feather dulcet skin. Let them words flow from your poetic mouth, and let them become tattoos on my sacred back. Just like the sea rumbles for the the passionate moon, and so do, i for you.

Anneshwa Paul🌻

The lost of dear one

Losing you was the worst thing to ever happen

To me you were everything great to ever happen

When time came and took you away

Was when time if I may

Hurt the one thing I care for

Took you away

I found you lying there, still

I felt ill

I held you and cried

For when I saw you I thought you died

If have it'd be impossible for you were a mere toy

But to me you were more than that

A friend first

A toy second

So as way to put this to end

Say I love you and time shall begin again

Yes this is about a toy

No I will not change it it's silly

Prompt/challenge from: @poppiesandpromises

And I'll be back soon with another poem

maybe... Probably..

Hope I did well-

Ok I was just chilling in my bed when my brain came up with this piece of poetry

In a sea filled with chaos and uncertainty are you a continent? A land that’s known to many, always there for others to lean on for security and a sense of safety.

Or are you an island? A small paradise known only to a few, however those that know you feel safe and secure in your presence.

Or are you just another boat on the sea searching for a continent or island to call your own.

I’m not a poet I’ve never come up with any sort of poetry before but I think this is beautiful!

"Be not defeated by the rain"

Be not defeated by the rain, Nor let the wind prove your better.

Succumb not to the snows of winter. Nor be bested by the heat of summer.

Be strong in body. Unfettered by desire. Not enticed to anger. Cultivate a quiet joy.

Count yourself last in everything. Put others before you.

Watch well and listen closely. Hold the learned lessons dear.

A thatch-roof house, in a meadow, nestled in a pine grove's shade.

A handful of rice, some miso, and a few vegetables to suffice for the day.

If, to the East, a child lies sick: Go forth and nurse him to health.

If, to the West, an old lady stands exhausted: Go forth, and relieve her of burden.

If, to the South, a man lies dying: Go forth with words of courage to dispel his fear.

If, to the North, an argument or fight ensues:

Go forth and beg them stop such a waste of effort and of spirit.

In times of drought, shed tears of sympathy.

In summers cold, walk in concern and empathy.

Stand aloof of the unknowing masses:

Better dismissed as useless than flattered as a "Great Man".

This is my goal, the person I strive to become.

Written by Miyazawa Kenji, on his deathbed, this poem serves as a reflection of the person that he hoped he was.

stop haunting me in the night, putting your hand on my shoulder, quietly telling me to wait for you silently in the dark, when i know in myself already that you won’t come back