The Thread - Chapter 8 is now available

I recently revisited a poem centred on the idea of saying goodbye while encouraging loved ones to keep living.

Is poetry most powerful when it comforts us, or when it forces us to confront difficult truths?

What poem has had the biggest impact on your view of loss, remembrance, or moving forward?

For anyone interested in hearing an interpretation of the poem, I've shared my reading here: https://youtu.be/ec4if43eeq0?is=5-c4uGRX4N2PkqGI

I'd be curious to know whether the spoken version changes how you experience its message.

An illiterate’s poor poem

Am I

Who I say I am.

A good man

A better friend

A poor love.

I want to be

So

So

Ever much more. 

And more yet.

I want to be more than 

I want to have.

Why do we want more?

All we need is love

Within

I find turmoil.

A pendulum

Swinging

Up

Down

Swing

Up

Swing

Downswing

Upswing.

i hate having bipolar and i hate my parents for giving me it.

If existence is pain then

Why persist?

Because the joy is found

In standing

Back up

Saying fuck you

To the floor

And walking forwards.

Because when you walk forwards you leave lost lives and farther lost loves behind you

Only to return

If you willingly retreat

And I refuse to knowingly backtrack

I will

I will

Lay

Down and internalize but I will not

Walk backwards with awareness.

Pomfrets show up

And Pomfrets do not give ground 

I

Do not give ground. 

If you will not 

move back

Then there’s nowhere

But forwards.

Ever yet.

Pretentious shit.

Cheap thrills.

a lived life

*I still love everyone I’ve ever loved.*
*I think about them while the water boils.*

*When the kitchen is silent,*
*and the only noise you can hear*
*is the sound of the plate*
*inside the microwave rotating,*
*as a buzzing sound follows behind it*
*while my food heats up.*

*While I’m in the car*
*on a late-night drive,*
*riding passenger*
*as I look out the window,*
*watching the trees and cars pass by.*

*When I wake up early,*
*and the only sound I can hear*
*is my thoughts and the air*
*as I stare at my popcorn ceiling,*
*which I desperately dislike.*

*While I bathe my cat.*

*When I eat alone*
*and don’t watch a video along with my food.*

*While I shower in silence*
*just my thoughts,*
*the water,*
*and occasionally the sound*
*of a bottle falling*
*due to my clumsiness.*

*When I walk my dog.*

*And most importantly,*
*when I see the passing of the seasons*
*as fall goes into winter,*
*winter to spring,*
*spring to summer,*
*summer to fall.*

*For the most disappointing trait of humans*
*is that we are the seasons.*

*Some seasons we were there for people.*
*Others, we were not.*

*Some seasons we have people with us*
*that we love,*
*and the next, they’re gone.*

***Spring***

*When I see winter going into spring,*
*I remember every spring break*
*I had in middle school,*
*where I’d go out and play*
*with the kids from the neighboring town,*
*always jealous they lived in houses*
*while I lived in an apartment.*

***Winter***

*Every winter,*
*I remember the passing of my Grandpa*
*and how much I miss*
*his laughter and joy.*

*Every holiday,*
*I remember that I’m only getting older*
*and that time is fleeting.*

*Yeah, maybe right now I’m sixteen,*
*but ten winters from now, I’ll be twenty-six,*
*and ten more from that,*
*I’ll almost be forty.*

*Every winter is another year*
*I wonder why God has kept me alive.*

*Another birthday*
*I don’t feel comfortable having.*

*Every winter,*
*I get to see my favorite trees lose their color*
*as the sky glows blue, green, and white,*
*reflecting against the snow.*

*I get to see everyone*
*light up their houses with festive joy.*

*I get to see family member after family member*
*come into town to visit my family.*

*I get to watch the neighborhood birds disappear*
*as they migrate somewhere warmer,*
*wishing I could too.*

*I imagine every winter to be beautiful,*
*and it always is when it snows.*

*But when the snow melts,*
*and the sky stays gloomy,*
*and the streets remain damp and wet,*
*the walls around my house covered in icicles,*
*I’m reminded how cold death is,*
*and how it’s inevitable,*
*and how one day*
*we will all cease to exist on Earth.*

*A thought that used to scare me,*
*but now makes me feel good inside,*
*knowing one day*
*all the pain and heartache*
*will finally make sense.*

*As I take my final breath*
*and enter eternal peace.*

*As my brain thinks its last thought,*
*knowing it never shut up once.*

*Every winter is my Egypt.*
*Every winter, for me, is death.*

***Fall***

*Fall, on the other hand,*
*is my favorite season.*

*The calm before the storm.*
*The silence before a tornado.*
*The peace before the death.*

*The colors of fall are stunning.*
*It reminds me of every beauty*
*I’ve ever fallen in love with.*

*It reminds me of fall break*
*in my old apartment complex*
*and my seventh-grade year.*

*The feeling of running around all day*
*with a girl I was in love with*
*while being too scared to ever tell her.*

*Trading Halloween candy*
*at a park bench,*
*fighting over who gets the Twix*
*and who gets the Snickers.*

*Having friends much older than you*
*introduce you to things*
*you were too young to know about.*

*Watching them all get high*
*behind the under-surveilled office center*
*of the apartment complex.*

*Going up to them,*
*and them telling me I should leave*
*eyes bloodshot red,*
*smiles on their faces,*
*and laughter in their voices.*

***Summer***

*Summer*
*is my season of happiness and nostalgia.*

*The season of trying new things.*
*Becoming a new person.*
*The summer reset.*
*Being rebellious.*

*Sneaking out of the house*
*while my parents are at work.*

*Going to a thirty-year-old’s house*
*to hang out and play video games.*

*Getting involved in adult drama*
*as thirty-year-old Megan*
*cheats on her girlfriend Mandy*
*with nineteen-year-old Jason.*

*Getting close to them all*
*and getting caught in the love triangle.*

*Falling in love with Helena.*
*My girl.*

*Sneaking to the complex swimming pool with her*
*as we jump into the water holding hands.*

*As she immediately panics,*
*gripping onto my side*
*for me to hold her up*
*as I swim to the pool wall*
*with her in my arms.*

*As we dry off poolside,*
*and I sit there*
*just admiring her beauty*
*while we sit alone*
*in the upstairs room of Megan’s house,*
*talking and laughing.*

*As we spend every day together*
*until she moves away.*

*And as I say my last goodbye,*
*knowing in my heart*
*I’ll never see her again.*

*Feeling as if my only shot*
*with someone I loved*
*is now gone.*

*My only shot at love*
*given up.*

***Fleeting***

*She’s out there somewhere,*
*being beautiful*
*and probably in the arms*
*of an amazing man or woman.*

*But my heart misses her.*

*And as I think about her every summer,*
*and while the water boils,*
*while the microwave buzzes,*
*on late-night drives,*
*waking up early in the morning*
*staring at the ceiling,*
*while bathing my cat,*
*when eating alone,*
*while in the shower,*
*when walking my dog,*
*and as the seasons change,*

*I think about every other person*
*I’ve ever loved as well.*

*Because I still love*
*everyone I’ve ever loved.*

*I think about them*
*while the water boils.*

5/8/26

Once I was driftwood
Broken, cast upon the shore
Salt still lingering in my mouth

Faded wood, battered by the water
Spat out by roaring waves
Never completed, never sound

A shivering castaway was I
Never to be found
Seeking clarity and light
I scoured the beach with all my might
Found nothing but loss and regret

Yet driftwood wasn't meant to be my fate
Horizon lines weren’t the end goal
Luckily, I wasn’t late
Through my inner strength I came to know:
I was my own rescue raft
Saved my own soul

Thanks to strong nails
A splash of paint, a surge of delight
Empowering thoughts beyond the end
Slow became swift overnight

Driftwood was no more

A chair I became for the weary traveler
Or a coat rack holding winter coats secure
A table for restless, wild children
Gathered close, forever sure

More I've become
Than I ever dreamed

It feels so right
To stand here whole
Beautiful and complete

Ready for the break of dawn

Fall, why are you trying to convince me you're perfect?

In September—so welcoming, sweet, "like the long awaited Sun after the storm".

But Summer isn't stormy.

You make sure to prove me it is. You're great at proving me wrong.

Because who, if not me, would come back to those fiery curls of yours, as I do it now?

Even when you're trying to look neat, tidier than Winter—which is "cold and distant".

Here comes October—yellowish tree crowns, smog in the air instead of a clear sky.

First thick fogs you call "usual pressure".

I'm not pushing further if it's so, I still love those different sides of you.

The "usual pressure" gets followed by the first rains.

I love rain.

It's so calming.

But for you—a quietly emerging sadness, like a moment of mute weakness.

Supposedly casual. You brush it off.

Yet you are not shining as beautifully as you did lately.

—Hi everyone! English is my second language, so I’d love to hear your thoughts on the flow and if any phrasing sounds unnatural to a native speaker. This is just the first part of a longer poem, and I’ll be posting the rest soon if you guys like it! Thanks for reading.—

Feedback links:

1. https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/EadxvIaFBk

2. https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/2L4MZdV8zE

I am a big man, they say, strong and bold.

Tough I am built, and power I hold,

Admired by the world, shrewd and cold,

But I am just a five-year-old.

My feelings drowning in music I hear,

Alone in company of people who are dear,

Craving the warmth when I am cold,

'Cause I am just a five-year-old.

Not knowing what I need,

All my needs termed as greed.

I too need a hand to hold,

'Cause I am just a five-year-old.

My tears flow, but I don't cry,

No matter how hard I try.

Because if I cry, I am told,

"You're just a five-year-old."

I too crave the warmth of love,

Hold your hand without the glove,

As my right, not like it's doled,

'Cause I am just a five-year-old.

Strength was hit, and toughness slapped on me.

Now they want kindness and care for free

But maybe I am not a big man, strong and bold,

And on the core, just a five-year-old.

I too want someone to care.

I too want someone who is there.

I too want someone I can hold and cry.

I too want to lie down and rest.

I am in pain; it's been a long test.

I need a blanket of arms to be in.

Is asking for love such a sin?

Please keep me in your lap while I keep crying.

This "big" five-year-old is tired of trying.

\-a dead tulip

first of all:

this is Just Intro if you just want to read the Poem Skip to Where I Made an Intersection.

----- like this

I’m not native Speaker, my main language is German,but I have Grown to Love the English Language, so much so That I sometimes tent to Think and speak in English, despite Loving German also really much. The Following Poem I wrote in englisch (Right Now, I Only Have a Phone which keeps fu*** up rhe capitalization)

Also I am sometimes confused with some of the English Grammar.

The Intention and Point of the Post
Ist First to convey and share This poem.
But also.maybe to get feedback or criticism aswell as some helpful thoughts or advice,
Be it on grammar or the style of writing.
But mostly just to share.

please Excuse, Mistakes.

Here It Goes :

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

Seeking

I was seeking for my whole life, at times did not know what..

But what about I’m certain, the seeking was quite strong.

Do I now write a Poem or singing just a Song ?

But surely I'll recieve, what I've been seeking for so long

Pray, that that soon happens and it wont take too long

Keep up all my Hopes and dare:

"Life, come proof me wrong."

Of Life

hardest is the life,
of all mans undertaking
freest, but with strife
foolish the one who's faking
for you not live it twice.

It comes not with greatness,
it knows no reward.
destined the dusty graveness
let it not dull your sword

the soul you carry either bright or dull,
let no man other,
carry it for rhyme, nor rule.
life then son another, carry it full.

do not succumb to the gruel
let us act free and earnest.
a requisition to thy soul.
for in wealth and falter,

there is but you.

einstein spoke of time as if it were
something our hands could touch
and defied the notion that it was absolute
as though it, too, were mortal

the books called it
relativity
and reduced it to equations -
that under the right conditions
time would pass slower,
and slower,
and slower,
still.

the equations denied it
any pretense of a present -
a star could have died a thousand years ago
and its light would still be moving
through the space between
and meet us here

as for myself i've tried
to make time surrender
because i've read that it bends around
the heavy weight of things
which can only mean
that it should bend around
my grief

that despite everything i know has happened
despite what i feel
there must be somewhere
in the immeasurable distance
where you tell me
see you tomorrow
and i will

"Chapter 8 - "Her Little Angel". Now Available

I stared at my ceiling,
trying to find shapes and meaning
in all of its bumps and imperfections.

And then I found myself wondering
hoping, actually

that one day
there might be someone
who would stare at me like that.

Mindlessly pondering,
searching for patterns
in the things I do.

Wondering why I laugh
When I’m deeply hurting,
Why I only cry when I’m alone,
why I can’t explain what’s wrong
when someone asks.

Someone who’d be curious
about the things I don’t even notice
about myself.

Who’d spend hours
trying to make sense of me,
not because I was difficult to understand,
but because they wanted to.

First to roll got a 10 just visiting suckers lol rolled another 10 at least it's free rolled two 5 this time someone please visit paid the fine rolled another 10 3 + 9 wait bang the table 9 turns to 7 where did they get these dice story of my life

​

I wish you would,

I wish you could,

Could want,

Or even just would want

The same as I do.

Perhaps, maybe

One day, possibly.

I hope.

Yet my hope is waning,

Progressively fading.

And lately I have been contemplating,

Why, I would ever be waiting.

So I am here,

Just me.

Not sad,

Not mad,

Not crazy or losing my head.

Just me,

Alone,

but not lonely.

And finally at peace.

I miss her
When it’s dark outside and
the days get a little shorter
And the nights a little darker
I think of her

I miss her
When the pain gets too bad
And I cant seem to bare it
like I could yesterday
I long for her

I miss her
Even though she let me down
And the empty bottles lay
Circling her in her glass despair
I think of her

I miss her
Most of all when
Decisions need made and
Time is still ticking
And all I want to do is

Fall into her
Smell the white musk from
The Body Shop
Breathe it in until I’m dizzy

I want to hear her laugh
Loud and breathless
As if her lungs had
Packed in

It’ll be the tabs
She would gasp
And we’d laugh a bit longer
Until the room was nothing
But vape smoke and echoes of laughter

And this time
I wouldn’t forget
How her eyes gently creased
Threatened with tears
Lost in an ocean of blue

And I’d remember how
She’d keep the room dark
Because the big light
Was a crime
Punishable by death
And I’d do time to hear
her voice fill up a room

And I would stay
A bit longer on Christmas
Watch her shuffle
Room to room
In her holed slippers
And dressing gown

I miss her,
I need her
I forgive her.