r/OCPoetry

and so i sit on my sofa

bored and alone

i’ve just seen a TikTok of a girl

my age

my height

my course

my uni

but she wears it differently

last night looks lingers on her stained lips telling a story words never could

It was wild?

Did she have a crazy night?

Was a lime bike involved?

I was eating crisps

Salt n vinegar

She does 5k runs

I saw it on insta

She sits with her multicultural friend group in the fields

I want to chase that high

Time flies by like the birds gone free

Term wraps up and Easter takes it’s place

I lug my suitcase onto the coach

It’s probably over the weight limit but who cares

Her tiktoks come on my fyp

Of course I’ll have a look

I scroll as i sit on the coach

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/u1IRK2b6Wd

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/dfuGVUOPBt

Of all the questions I could ask myself... the one that that haunt's me most is that of worth and what it means to attain one's worth.

Do i make worth in something? Do I create worth from something whilst I can't even find worth from my worthless existence... my existence, that's confounded in the fact of its lack of worth... so worthless is this existence of mine, that I am more surprised by the lack of feeling I have for the world, than that of actually making that feeling real.

It's like calling something "real," when the realism is in its whimsy; its lack of understanding; and its lack of realism.

I hate whimsy and all emotions associated with it - I hate the fun and the joy associated in the lack of realism of something that has been posited as being real. I hate the joy gotten from unhappiness and the gaining of happiness from unhappiness, for its lack of continuity and realism.

In all my hate for the world around me, I let go of the fact of attaining worth... of reaching what makes you feel real or what gives existence to a non-existent entity or what gives civilization to toothless barbarians.

I let go of the fact that realism is attained in the lack of reality, the lack of humanity, realism is worth and worth is in human indulgence, the glee on our faces after a grand war of subjugation, the glee on our faces after massacring a people, the enjoyment we gain from the lack of freedom in others, and our freedom to dominate like the savages we are.

O A foul savages is human nature! the nature born in the death of nature and in the bureaucratic savagery that runs through our veins.

From this monologue I have been enlightened on worth and what it means to neither create nor attain, for worth is mine falsity and thine savagery and to that end I shall neither create nor attain worth.

I shall invent mine own worth, with mine own blood, sweat, toil, and tears for that's where I shall become civilized.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/5ull0UxU78

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/X35ijtnQhv

There was a devastating wave
Above the pool of red sludge
Made of sharp carpenter's nails
Rising against the black skies
Metal flung around the landscape
Like flecks of paint on a canvas
A manifestation of mechanical death

The future gets swallowed
With a cold efficiency,
The present starts to mourn
Ruthless indeterminacy.

In times of bloodshed,
There aren't any victors.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/DXWFUwT4Vg

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/igiNZLvjIx

drifting away from what used to be brothers leaving one family for another do they miss me?

why do i do it leave everyone i get close to i’m i scared? of not being able to leave

i wander through this life holding onto connection for dear life gripping until i crush it beneath my fingers

i can’t go back and leave what i’ve found but it hurts to abandon what i started with i know i don’t have to but in the end i don’t think i have a choice

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/bSZYkrYZjt

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/JR7LNrG1Cj

The Red Thread of Fate

In the void of my mind,

where reality and myth combine,

I'm tethered to threads in the color of crimson red.

From afar, you'd think that's how I bled..

but they're knots and binds wrapped around my flesh,

knitted and stitched on me like a velvet dress

that was never meant to be worn or impress,

but to remind me of my inevitable fate

before my final death.

Oh, Moirai…

The trios who held my destiny, and to whom I begged:

Why is my fate dreadful and cannot be fled?

Why are my strings strained and stretched,

dug into my bone and flesh?

Like the strings of a violin..

on stroke, and it will sing.

And when it snaps, in my ears it will ring.

You'd think that's how it ends,

but the scars it leaves will forever sting.

Comments:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/83c01Sw06l

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/JvcxAPDMu2

Sometimes I feel

like a candle with no wick

A smooth ball of wax

for flames to trick

Pleasant on the outside

but no purpose within

For what is a candle

without means to an end?

A flicker of spark

strikes me so fierce

but with nothing to catch

It fades like the years

I wait for the day

that my wick will show

to bring back the light

that once ignited my soul

New to writing poetry and this thread as well. I’m open to any and all feedback.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/HaHc0OrMoj

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/Q4xdxKsHlM

I know clearly what must be done

I know the the why, the how, the when

I know every benefit I hunger for

The life waiting once I begin

I know, and yet ,complicit

Standing in my own way again

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1sbajgg/old_dogs/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1rjnta6/comment/oe3li5q/?context=3

Bright yellow flowers are to be placed upon

A scarred body of flesh and mud

To hide the assault of life itself

On flesh and bone and still dried blood

My unperturbed head will lay between the restless quiet

Like it was never loud

My shaped red heart will cease

Any righteous shout

Bright yellow smiles

Replaced by rotten yellow patches

Rainy blue days

Grey to sickly blue veins

My head will come off

And I won’t even scoff

My face will vanish

Between roots and mud and smart fat worms

Body of strong preference

Will have no preference

Die with dreams

Older than me

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/obOFbJf2yO

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/h8RAXvfkxG

I wanna see your eyes

turn brown in the sun.

I wanna see your skin

folding when you smile.

I wanna see your hair

fall wild in the wind.

I wanna smell your body

in a crowd—and turn.

I wanna taste your lip gloss

and guess the fruit you chose.

I wanna hear you laugh

at jokes you didn't even hear.

I wanna wipe your tears,

and stay until you breathe again.

I wanna see you dance in rain

to the rhythm of the ripples.

But all I'm left with is a screen,

your reply still typing...

Feedback 1:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/vXD32PIKiM

Feedback 2:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/K9cPIfRX0H

Death occupies itself inside a pigeon's body
Doing it's work dutifully inside and out
feathers ruffled and a missing eye
just an opening with a grey and pink nothing

Claw haphazard like a spasmodic goodbye
Ants make a line find their way to the cadaver
Beak slightly ajar as if finishing the last breath
Or nibbling the last morsel

It flew it's last peaceful flight
suffered the hardness
Enjoyed it's ease
It blesses the mud with it's corpse

Position of final forfeit
Elements and bacteria
Until all evidence of the creature has gone
The angle of the neck is a thank you

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1sbjxrn/comment/oe4pvrx/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1sbajgg/comment/oe4quwr/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

One bows in fear, asking to be saved,

One looks within, no self enslaved.

One seeks a hand beyond the sky,

One asks who’s there to live or die.

Fear calls out for something above,

Understanding... well that dissolves into love.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/QTqJ06Igmt

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/jB1vulUquL

You haven't wronged me
but I feel like you have.
I acknowledge the present,
but reminisce on the past.
We walked down that path together.

I lose my temper
every time I remember—
that walk is over.
Each day since then feels colder.
The path once wet is buried in snow.
Patches of us catch light as they show.
It blinds my eyes, I throw up my hands.

We discussed that picture—
that wall, the tall house, the crooked lamp.
I still picture our talk.
I made a joke, you laughed, brushed my hand.
We would still be close, had—

I walk along at last.
Why reminisce on what I thought I had?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1sbjg10/comment/oe4tr7t/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1sbnvtj/comment/oe4uzj4/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

maybe you stole my heart in pictures,

kept me locked up tight from the storm

but a promise left out in the open,

will always find its own door to close

so keep me in that empty room

gaze at me like a porcelain doll

feel that there's something missing still

like some words left out from a song

and you'll hear the tune follow suit

Waltz and twirl and follow through

if only we'd switch roles for a minute or two

you'll let all your lies bleed into truth

./.

./.

./.

see It's not so easy now

could you stand that coming storm?

a harsh reality that keeps its hold

because the devil's dance needs no ball

when entangled and trapped and held so tight

you must always heed his call

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/pKB2lLYqvj

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/NaMEHJn7Wa

Paint me. As if you made love to me.

Paint me, as if you never saw me before.

Paint me as the one who stayed.

Paint me as if you had only me to paint.

Paint me as a good memory.

Paint me as if I was holding the key.

Paint me as if the world is ending.

Paint me so much then this world.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/aPRXjdFzM5

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/2xPAr2B4nE

For the first time, I feel the sparks.

His body melts into my embrace,

and my heart skips a beat.

Our noses brush

as he meets my lips with his,

and my heart flutters once more.

His soft breath of slumber

melts my body into his

and sings me to sleep.

But do I follow the heart or the mind?

A question beneath your breath,

eating at me inside.

How can a love so wholesome

be called sinful?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/i6CAN5VbQ1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/VYRzRMSWzH

What did you say?
I'm not in the running,
move out of the way.
My pack doesn't need me,
I'm too slow to stay.

Just an old workin' dog,
but I still want to play.
I can fetch a ball,

maybe…
not right away.

No quick Terrier,
I feel so middle aged.
But in my day.
I chased a few posties
and taxis away.
Head and tail high
Glossy fur on display.

Now Jack Russells all laugh,
"Look at his coat,
it's so gray."

or in my case,
simply absent
like I've got the mange.
Just like my potential,
hair today…
gone tomorrow,
so strange.

But I'm not gone!
I still remain,
clearly on display.
Like the old dog at the SPCA
no families are coming
to take me away.

That grizzly old Alpha,
who knows what to say
to the young pups,
all the rules I relay.

But they snap and growl.
Is my knowledge passé?
Taken for dogsplaining,
when I want to convey,
the tricks I have learned,
mistakes I have made.

They say, "We won't make them."
Different times I'm afraid.
So maybe this new blood,
must become the cliché,
follow their instincts,
the old-fashioned way.

So I will stay quiet,
do my job as I may,
and slowly and surely
let my sway
slip away.

For there comes a time
when old dogs walk away.
Leave the herding behind
and sleep out the day.
I know it is coming
like the winter in May.

My old bones feel its chill,
but to the cold wind I say,

Not today!

There's bark and there's bite left,
in this old Huntaway.

So to rolling over quietly
I simply say,
there's cattle to muster
so let's not delay.

Let me up on the truck,
there's still light in the day.
I will run the old trails
chase the sheep
where they lay.

Till my nose is too dry
and my bark fades away

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/TPkrjKfOoH

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/DtpWKeToEE

Two mirrors reflecting eachother

frozen in time, fragile yet rougher

Never meeting, inches apart

A kaleidoscope of drifting hearts

Cracks in one fractures the other

In darkness both fail to recover

Shards of broken silver strings

A melody splintered before it begins

They feel and know but never speak

one hopes that the other seeks

Thus, one awakens with thoughts deranged

Pleads a song for things to change

"I wait for your words that never land

A thesis that you wrote in sand

I glance through lines and memories old

Searching for relics and glittering gold

This game we play with dance and rhythm

Moving through this heart shaped prism

Scattering into ribbons of light

Colliding and bouncing, restrained by fright

You pull me from my self imprison

Baited by your seductive glisten

Pushed me with your silence still

Mind erupting, spineless chill

Now I wait to meet your gaze

Hold your hand and read your face

Sunset of this year awaits

Time stands still to meet my fate."

And so it bargains with the divine

"Keep her frozen, give me time

Yes or no it matters not

Just a chance to cry my thoughts"

A quest imposed for polished perfection

To shine so bright, worthy of her reflection

With bated breath it gathers it's shards

Mending them with gilded scars

"When I am complete, you will be mine

Please wait for me just one last time"

But it never realized

It need not turn into a prize.

Feedback 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/MuZ9hqSDsQ

Feedback 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/G1v8gPvokD

“THERE IS NO FEE FOR DEAD ANIMALS" The sign in big red letters says My grandfather stops by the window Talking to the garbage man

Money is exchanged My grandfather keeps on driving We pass the animal drop off point And I look the other away

Tractors and machines are organizing The remnants of people's lives Into big piles To be covered up with dirt

Far away they look Like little ants Off in the distance Over many piles

We stop by the most recent addition Pulling up next to a pile of weeds My mother opens the truck door And the stench hits me

I try not to breath As we enter into the wasteland Full of decaying products And things…

We pop open the back of the trailer And I gaze at the cargo hold Chock full of seventeen years of stuff Long forgotten My mother grabs a bag

And begins to throw "This junk's not gonna move itself, you know." I pick up a doll cradle The forgotten dusty thing

Barely even used I throw it and it breaks Scattering wooden splinters Far off on the ground

I find a box of coloring books next Scribbled and destroyed I chuck them Some school things follow Broken back packs Rulers Books

We get down to the dilapidated washer My parents got for their wedding "Your dad always said he was going to fix that." Mom says Onto the ground it falls With a clang

There are only a few things left now A chair of my great grandmother's We got when she died Which is ripped to shreds Held together With duct tape Not anymore We toss it

"Well, that's that," my mother says We get back into the truck and drive away My grandfather starts to go off On insurance policies again

"You know, sometimes you wonder if you wouldn't be more useful dead" He jokes "No," my mom says

We pass the animal drop off point And I look the other way Glad to be leaving the dump That was formed decades ago With generations of filth

We pass the garbage man And as I wave out the window He ignores me

The last thing I catch a glimpse of Is the sign "THERE IS NO FEE FOR DEAD ANIMALS" And I look the other way

-------------

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ul9y3gM7Ep

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/vpNneS0zIt

My Endless Devotion,

To Feel the Emotions, 

I once Feared- Implosion,

has Led Me, to the Land of Grace 

The Streets, filled with People, 

Who See Me, as Equal, 

Are Ne’er Deceitful,

In their Smiles, I See My Face 

Here,

There’s no pinching pennies, 

This Land, Horn of Plenty, 

No need for a Sentry- 

In This Place, Our Heart is One 

To Love, is the Gateway, 

Compassion, a Mainstay,

Receive it, so Bravely, 

There is No Race- We Have All Won 

I Hold Tight, to this Vision, 

A World, of Co-living,

If I Speak, will You Listen? 

To the Word, that I Profess? 

To Some, I’m an Angel,

To Others, a Fable, 

To One, I am Abel-

My Path, One of Righteousness

Much of it, I’ve lived, scared, 

I never felt prepared, 

The Signs, shouting “Beware!” 

Just Distortions, In My Head 

But, I Hear the Trumpets, 

They’re Calling for Oneness, 

Say “You’re gonna Love this,

Hold your Heart, Close to Your Chest.” 

To Focus on Badness,

Will Lead One, to Madness,

Fast Track, to the Casket, 

It’s Your Choice, to Shift Your Lens

The Power Within You, 

That, Which You’ve Been Through, 

What it Shapes You Into, 

Is Your Choice- Right Here, Right Now 

Will it leave you Jaded? 

Or Destined for Greatness? 

Just Poles, on a fake disc, 

All That Exists, Exists In You 

No such thing as Sinning, 

The Thoughts, Unforgiving, 

Reflect how You’re Living, 

Just a Mirror, of Your Truth

Your Values Define it, 

And Actions Align it, 

To Learn, takes Refinement, 

But in Contrast, lies your Strength

Hard earned, are the Lessons, 

The Field, it will Test them, 

Much like a Profession,

Slow and Steady, Wins the Race 

So, Treat Yourself Softly, 

When stirring a coffee, 

Or folding the laundry, 

Go too Fast, you’re Bound to Break 

The Key here, is Presence,

It’s Found in the Present, 

No need to be Restless,

Take your Time- oft Smile, and Hum 

For, You are a Child,

Ne’er to be Defiled,

Repealed, or Reviled,  

You are Sovereign, You. Are. Loved. 

As, Love is Inherent,

And for Those, who can Bear it, 

It Hurts, Not to Share it,

Show your Self- It’s Not Too Late 

And, in this Acceptance,

I found my Repentance, 

Was No Cause for Penance, 

My Own Heart, Enriched with Grace

It Spoke-

“Much, You have Gone Through, 

But You have Grown Tall, too, 

The Whole Time, I Saw You,

Treading so Long- the Time Has Come- 

To Shine, as the Beacon, 

This Moment, Your Season,

The Voice of Cohesion,

Now Go Forth, in Reason-

And Spread the Message, 

Of The Son!”

comment 1

comment 2

I don’t know who I am anymore.

I could be a tree’s shade,

I could be a dog’s friend,

I could be just an afterthought.

I don't know who I am anymore.

When stripped down to my silence,

it’s hard to recognize myself.

The quiet is too loud to ignore.

I may as well be the cold tea sitting on the counter,

forgotten by its encounter,

lost its warmth to its surroundings,

waiting to be poured out.

leaving only a stain where it used to be.

I may as well be a balloon accidentally lost by a child,

floating aimlessly into the sky,

observing the clouds as they greet me,

but I burst before I reach them.

So maybe I am just a nobody with no weight,

no light of my own,

drifting through people’s mouths, through a tree’s shade,

or through the dust the wind carries.

COMMENT 1:
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1sad5b9/comment/oe2fuyg/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

COMMENT 2:
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1sban2i/comment/oe29nk1/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button