Welcome to Poetree, a place where poets and poetry lovers meet each other. We have been doing our best to make a website where poets could write their poems, publish them and share with their readers. Please sign up to add your poems to Poetree!
Run! Run!
Better Run!
Keep going, please keep going
you kill a bug.
it’s ugly and disgusting.
It’s small but it’s still a threat.
to what? you don’t know.
it’s just disgusting.
Липка павутина тримає
Кінцівки асоціальної комахи.
Комаха наївно вважає,
Що вона не у фільмі жахів.
Голодний до щастя павук,
Показує яскраве життя -
and each arrow
that pierces your heart
just a reason to feel alive
A portrait without a face,
A ghost without a spirit,
A phantom never feared,
An assassin who leaves no trace,
A song with no music and lyrics,
A form that was never mirrored,
Newly elected, in more than 20 hours,
- I decided to read the lines of the prompter to everyone,
"Who is to blame?! - Tajik with Zelensky, mass
Am I the corpse that awaits the return of a spirit
Or the phantom that disappeared?
Am I the murderer who saw the blood on my hands; and on my face did smear it
Or the imitation that to the eye dead appeared?
Am I the bird who chirped in the wild forest
Or the observer that despises it?
your blue eyes
are like a paradise,
your eyes hit my heart,
you became a light in my dark
In the dead of the night,
I venture the dark alleys and streets,
Broken are the lights,
Each home is a memory of serene deceit,
I see the playground,
Where we as kids used to play,
the bile of thoughts
fuels hatred
indifference of action
fuels desire
I'm a writer,
A poet,
Screaming to the world that I exist,
I'm not a silent relic floating around,
Not some puppet to be fiddled with,
Not a sculptor's grotesque creation,
a bug, stuck in a jar.
in a struggle to escape
it crawls around.
to no avail.
after all it’s so frail.
frail, this bug still climbs.