BrokenSouls Reborn

(formerly brokensoulsuploads) Death only means tomorrow is coming. You are broken, not beaten. You are beautiful because you survive. You Are Not Alone. #brokensoulsreborn for general subs

[schuylerpeck]

Woot woot!! It’s NAPOWRIMO time, babeeeyyy!! Pen a poem everyday for 30 days or browse around and write when you can—the choice is yours. ❤️ I’ve loved making prompt lists over the years and I’m excited to see what this years brings. Be silly! Write some bad poems! Write some okay poems! Enjoy ya’self. Love you. ❤️

instagram: hiitssky

[gemmxx]

there’s an emptiness inside my chest,

sometimes it’s gone - rarely; whereas sometimes it prefers to sit in my stomach

but when it comes, it comes to stay. like a lousy family guest you’ve been dreading the arrival of

like a mother in law

i feel jittery around it, almost as if i were looking for anything that might stuff its void

i can drink and i can smoke and i can do this and i can do that but it’s always there,

i only need to sit still for one second until it is back, making itself be heard, seen, felt

the truth is that i believe that part i so much dread to be just my very core

a restless core, faded and nervous at its roots, truly quite the terrible kind

always uneasy and never knowing what for

always in search, for this and for that and for what might finally settle me

but i don’t think anything at all ever will

perhaps i’ll take it to my deathbed

leave an empty casket

[poetrex]

I can feel your laughter from inside: shiverwet    seed-heavy, I write my pearl-name under your riverbed till every cattail water body with a mouth is begging    please,     pollute me— sweathungry, fever-swim reedfisted till each golden arm is dripping, honeywarm    the light behind your eyes— seal with wax my hand around your throat in prayer:     holy; holy! lick with flame & every other light with tongues    I take your only sacred name like a communion wafer:     mine; mine.

[jackalpants]

FaceApp

I don't think you should stare at the ocean like that

Come back to the forest with me

You probly should not put those rocks in your pockets

I know you will die in the sea

You're made for the forest

We're built for the forest

I wish you would just fucking see

Please stop walking into the ocean

Come back to

the forest

with me

[drsonnet]

AUTHOR: Fatima Z Said

What if we turned children into stars so the missiles couldn’t reach them? A poem for the children of #Gaza

[onlylivingforwords]

Once adorned with vitality, my old tree stood proud, whispering tales to the wind. It's trunk still echoes the hushed secrets of a bygone era, a poignant ode to nature's eternal dance. He was thirsty, but two months of a watery ballet that bypassed his weary roots, and time's cruel grasp, when the rain became a distant melody, on a day of colossal winds, he surrended, a tempest's fury embraced him in a solemn creak.

Now in the garden of Eden, his absence leaves a void. Of course, horses run free, of course, sunsets ignite the horizon, setting the sky ablaze. But amidst this untamed beauty, he lies on the ground, embraced by the earth's cradle. Ivy weaves around him, nature's shroud a silent testimony to the intertwining of life and loss in the vast expanse, where the wild spirits roam and the sun each day bids its fiery farewell.

[chirpyblues]

loss is like a black hole in your heart that never will ever go away. and somedays, this black hole is violent and vicious. it becomes just the perfect cavity to drown your what-if's and why's and tears in. and sometimes letting yourself fall into that cavity is equal amounts heartbreaking and comforting. i have had so much loss to grieve. so much that I don't think i will ever stop grieving, consciously or subconsciously. and right now, in the middle of the night when the outside world is quiet and cold, my mind is raging with grief. it's not angry, it's just broken down. there is no fight but there is still so much malice. life took away the fight from me. maybe I'm grieving that too. i just really hope that one day this black hole stops being resentful. loss can't be replaced but i hope one day i have enough happiness that it fills the remainder of my heart. my fragile little broken but still kind heart.

[iwanttofeelchaotic]

forget this perfect perfection

playing this part so well i

disremembered the point where

my heaven met my hell

[grimfox-deactivated20250321]

fireflies

your glow a beacon in the dark

flitting up into the stars

the dewy dampness of the park

a warbled cry from sleepy lark

flitting up into the stars

i lift my eyes to see my heart

the ardent sigh from sleepy lark

imparts the meaning of this art

i lift my eyes to see my heart

your wings enfolding all my parts

the starkest meaning of this art

we are one, we share the spark

your wings enfolding all my parts

i rise into a spiral arc

we are as one, we share the spark

our glowing soul will show the mark

i rise into a spiral arc

from dewy dampness of the park

our glowing souls to show the mark

two golden beacons in the dark

[maryhall]

All the Girls He Had Wronged

a girl because she is always a girl

always a child half his size

a girl who must be lured in

because her parents taught her

never to trust strangers

so he takes the skin of an animal

something he knows the girl will like

a swan, a bull, an eagle, wild animals

who chose the girl as if she’s special

as if she has some magical power

she’s unaware of.

and she thinks she’s magical

a demigod herself of a lesser-known

god of nature she cannot remember

some god fathered her she thinks

as she scratches the swan’s neck

a girl stands no more a girl

her feet in lapping waves like a tongue

and she asks if she can go home

or she goes home but what can she say

or she sits there in the summer she made

or she’ll float float beyond the reach

of a wife blaming the wrong person

or she’ll throw herself

into the stormy sea

[aishasarchive]

🪅

[sd-d0-l1y]

Night Light

She is my night light a comfort giving glow the subtle warmth, in the distance when lights are low

Though far away and hard to reach I know she's there, for me when times are bleak

We wave goodbye when day arrives and I must go live my fake life but when at dusk returning home I always know my night light love me so

[iamdusttoo]

I am a mote of something soft

And lost

A little sunlight on my bare edges

Raw

Find me laying still, still

Upon a whispering sea of grass they hush,

“Come home.”

[putah-creek]

welcome to the fascist states of america.

those who would take over the earth and shape it to their will never, I notice, succeed. -lao tzu

I am eating a fine, red pear, perfectly ripe, while the fascists decide how many socks a person may own, and if everyone must pray kneeling or standing. soon, all the men will part their hair on the same side. soon, they will announce when the women should all be pregnant. everyone will wear the same uniform and be punctual. I am eating a fine, red pear, perfectly ripe, while some white men raise a flag that looks like a dollar bill. next the money flag will be behind the altar with jesus. eventually the money will suffocate them, or perhaps jesus will toss out the money-changers again. i am eating a fine, red pear, perfectly ripe, it is delicious, and I slice off bite after bite with a pocket knife. taste buds. they're a marvelous thing, aren't they? so is having a choice.

james lee jobe

[acklum]

Effin Frank

Frank cunt use the fuckin oven;

he dint know ow.

Frank wunt go to the fuckin doctors;

he dint trust em.

Frank told everyone to fuck off -

cept fuckin Ken,

who could go fuck imself,

shitty little bastard.

Franks foot got bloody gangrene

but that dint stop im,

not for a couple a weeks, anyway,

then it killed im.

Daft fucker.

[poetrex]

You see the preamble is part of the song,

& songwriting's easy. You just imagine what John Prine would say in this situation, throw some "Yeah babies" in there as needed to fit the scansion, & Steve Goodman's your uncle. Well, on the night of the hunter's moon I was an ant begging a cloud to stop the ocean-swelling space rock frying my brain like a dim magnifying glass. On my shoulder were two angels, & they spoke to one another but not to me, because I wouldn't listen. You don't hate yourself, they said. You hate that the world is unfair, & that things are broken that can't be repaired, & bad things happen that cannot be stopped—bad things that aren't yours or anyone's fault. You hate that the way you do anything is the way you do everything; you hate that it's never too late to change, & still you haven't. & still, you sing. The preamble is part of the song. & on my back there were two giants, & I was crushed by their belief in me, for the angels spoke of wings, but only a friend's hand on my shoulder turned me away from the abyss. Still, I sing. Who am I without mouth or ears? Plagiarist of music no one hears. Still, the angels speak to one another—not to me.

[opheliasnotdead]

God, but I love you

like a dog

Slavering and

ever present,

resting

at the foot

of your bed

desperate for a pet

but content

with a kick.

You

dance fingers across

my maw

and condemn my teeth,

declare them

weapons

inevitably used against

You.

I grind them

while you sleep,

sawing point

against

point,

to dull my own blades

and ease your

rest.

But they

sharpen

overnight,

intent on puncturing the

delicate peace

between us.

God, but I love you

like a dog

And someday I fear

I will bite the hand

that refuses

to feed.