We are Poetry Family

April is national poetry month (US), as you may know, and I feel like reading some poetry. (Whether you’re :+1: or not. So I want you guys to enter some poetry!

RULES (which I have to do because whether you’ve noticed or not, Episodians do some rash stuff on this site):

  1. No hateful poetry or comments such as:

@MimiYoo67: Kyla, your poetry SUCKED, why don’t you go back to the bush you obviously inhabit.


Kyla is a girl
Bad haircut
Bad life
She lives in a trashy hut

(Sorry if these two comments offended anyone (they weren’t supposed to, but I apologize in advanced :frowning:)

  1. Give Credit where Credit is Due
    If you are using poetry from someone other than yourself (such as Langston Hughes or Emily Dickinson or even @AnyoneInEpisode) you need to credit. I don’t mind if you use someone else’s creativity as long as you leave credit.

  2. Have Fun
    This is Episode, not poetry slam! Have fun!



Living in the dark,
Full of fear
And not knowing when something vile is near.
No dog bark
Depression washes upon me like a wave,
Hitting me with its rage,
Or anything within its range.
It feeds off of joy
And destroys
Then, vile Death flies in with it black wings.
The door hangs on its hinges,
Everyone cringes.
“They’re dead, all dead”, the kings.
The lady shouts
And runs about.
With Death, you can’t get out.
Can’t escape…

(That’s all for now! I’ll think of some more later)


Hands that glide across her face
With each brush stroke he gives her an embrace
That erases worry lines
That wraps beautiful vines
Of rainbow and black and white
Complex and simple; twisted in a hopeful sight
Her eyes once dull with a touch of strife
Now burn bright
And dance with life
He brings her back to reality
With the greatest feeling of immortality
With a simple smile that he creates everyday
From miles away
He applies shadows of luminosity
Goosebumps of stars arise
As he traces her body with care
The skies
He builds are improvised
He spares
His time in creating her wings
To fly
Her lips to sing
Her soul to cry
Her mind to rise
Above the lies
And her heart …
To be able to touch her inside
With this he parts
With no goodbye
Leaving her perfect
But still …just a simple object




Thanks :relieved:

I’m just amazed… Can’t say nothing.
Yours is like, 10 times better than mine!

Girl, no!!!
All poetry is beautiful

Thanks, honey! Although, it was a bit dark

I got some dark stuff if you wanna read it

Have you ever stolen anything?
He questioned
I replied
And I was lying
Because I am a thief

I have a collection
A carefully plotted box of trinkets
An assemblage of artefacts
A landscape of crumbling cathedrals
That i have kidnapped
Because I am a thief

I have reached down
As far as i could
And ripped from you something
You can’t ever get back

It’s an addiction, you see
A repetitive ticking
A constant itch in my throat
A stubborn twitch that refuses
To be ignored

It’s not something I can return, you see
Because these things I take
They can’t be held in hand
They can’t be replaced
Or bought with a dime and penny

You see, these things I have kept
Are an apparition of mankind
Counted in a halo of twelve parts
And then some in sixty

These stain glass caves I treasure
Talk to you in hands of two or three
Depending on the complexity
Of your dulled mind

And I am so ashamed
That my craving of this drug
This enslavement for this poison
That holds me so dear; so warm

Has brought you to a disintegrated
And mourned mess
Of a disrupted past.

Let me know if you figure out what this is actually about



:woman_shrugging:t4: Eh.

More lovey stuff?

I guess.

End. Just end.
Stop the madness.
Stop the insanity.
Snap out of it.
At least a little.
Maybe not.
What is sane?
What is sanity?
Who’s to judge?
Who’s to say?
Don’t judge me.
I cut.
I smoke.
Six psychiatric meds.
Still not enough.
Does enough exist?
I cannot find it.
Boredom is agony.
Agitation, irritation.
Stuck in one place.
I want to scream.
I want to yell,
to shout out,
to tear into me,
to bleed and cry.
I usually can’t cry.
In shock.
Fight or flight.
Both together,
my yin and yang.
Always and forever.
So there it is.
That is me.
Now you know.
But you already did.
I don’t hide it.
It is who I am.
What can I do?
But share it and hope.
That others will care.
And be comforted.
Don’t feel by yourself.
If you feel crazy too.
I asked for no judgment.
I won’t judge you.
You’re never alone.

Here’s the one I read

Its actually by @L.M.Taylia


I wrote this little piece for an assignment in which we had to play off of a famous work. It’s basically a parody of Emily Dickinson’s “Because I Could Not Stop For Death” except the speaker in my version is an atheist who fears the uncertainty of death whereas hers is a Christian happily accepting their fate because they believe in an afterlife. Anyways, here it goes:

Because I could not stop for Death –
She coldly occluded me –
And wrenched me toward her Carriage – brash –
So I’d no chance to flee.

She mugged me then – with brazen hands –
And purged my pockets clean
And hurled my belongings to the Wind,
Who seized my memories.

She barreled on, her whip in tow –
Fast as her steeds could fare –
A montage flashing by for me
To look on in despair.

Day gave way to somber Night
As we hied in heavy stride –
Blistered skin – bitten by the breeze –
Ill-prepared for our ride –

We closed upon a vacant lot –
The steeds halted with haste –
I peered into the grave in which
My soul would be encased.

She dangled me over the edge –
Leering at me with bliss –
And then she sent me reeling down
Into the black abyss.


Oh… OK.

The Eggs

The eggs
and the toast
are burning
in the oven

You told me
I shouldn’t
put them
in that oven

But you can’t
fry eggs
or toast toast
in a microwave

by me :sweat_smile: