Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
POEM STARTER
'And as the waves return to the sea, so the words give way to silence.'
Write a poem on a theme of your choosing, that concludes with this line.
Writings
In the tempest of his words,
A storm brews, sharp and relentless,
Each syllable a dagger of ice,
Piercing deep, freezing the marrow.
I stand, a wounded warrior,
Firm in my rebellion,
Each unspoken emotion, a shield,
Against the fury of his hands.
His anger crashes like waves against,
The cliffs of my composure,
Yet within, a quiet tremor rumbles,
A fracture in my porcelain mask.
I swallow his muddy waters,
My eyes as still as a midnight pond,
Reflecting back his thunderous rage
With a gaze of chilling calm.
No tears dare stain my cheeks, no cry,
Escapes the prison of my lips.
And as the waves returned to the sea,
So his words give way to silence.
He sees only the surface,
The serene facade of stoic resolve,
Not the painful hurricane churning,
Beneath the tranquil surface.
I refuse to let him gaze upon,
The turbulence he’s brought.
I refuse to let him drown me,
I refuse.
A man the age of 24, A man who will take no more, Unbeknownst, steps through a door.
In an endless hell, Sex will keep things sweet, But escape remains a distant feat, A broken heart, a heavy beat.
The hands of fallen, the gaze of all, He stands tall, over bodies sprawled.
Yesterday he took a life, Laid the man down and removed the knife, Death’s taste lingered, bland and cold as ice.
Bullets rain throughout the days, The men long to feel the sun’s rays. Some men set themselves ablaze, For warmth in war’s cold space.
They’re dying. 735 days, they’ve been dying.
An end was meant to come, Before their eyes, their lives undone, Victory sought, battles won.
They’re dying. 1,045 days, they’ve been dying.
A man the age of 27, time’s cruel jest, Three birthdays passed, and he’ll live to see the rest.
Cold water’s touch, sweat drips from his brow, Yet, a warm breath escapes somehow.
The whirling sound of a copter’s blades After a long 1,905 days, They’ve been saved.
And as the waves return to the sea, so the words give way to silence.
Nothing left to give to me, I’ve died trying to save me, I’ve died trying to save we, Many places I could be, Wasted time without the sight to see, I walk the beach to feel free, Capturing the waves before they flee, And as the waves crash the sea, I began to lose proper guidance, So my words give way to silence.
The waves were high and words on the street was they can print And print and print and print they did
Naked they were, to show the world they gave it all , in return for the paper with the stamp, of the kings of their land
Tired they were but they can still go on , it seem it wasn’t enough for mother nature to relax
As silence is all they want but chaos is all they get
I saw it in a dream as they print and print and print again
I thought , if i caused a scream then give me a ring so i guess it wasn’t me , so they never came to me
they are still their , waiting for my silence to begin
And as the waves return to the sea,so the words give away to silence , that they can leave and other can come , for silence was not achieved
Lucky me:(((
Depression is a funny thing. It comes in large crashing waves, then settles into to a captivating, slow rhythm. One moment you are getting pulled out to sea, and the next you are floating. All is quiet, and you feel comfortable, bathing in your numbness. As the waves return to the sea, the words give way to silence.
The outline of your jaw tells me stories I spend days questioning. Your tongue, my mind makers of their own demise.
All I ever ask for is honesty- When the dark parts of you encased your spine leaving you without a backbone I was still here, holding you up.
But you chose deceit instead of honor. These lies they spill from your mouth like the trickling of a well and I am consumed by the sound. Repeating and repeating- How can you not see the impact?
You are an ocean of love for me but cannot seem to keep me from drowning- I cannot trust a goddamn thing And as the waves return to the sea, your words give way to silence.
The sun sets in the West, While the moon raises in the East. What do we see next, Do we sit for our supper feast?
The sky shines a deep blue The house dimly lit It’s just me and you In front of a fire, coffee we sip.
I open to you as you open to me. Sitting together enjoying the night’s brilliance. And as the waves return to the sea, So the words give way to silence. Tessa🦋
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