Category Archives: Poetry

Wounded heart

The word you said yesterday, Made my heart heavy, If I was the smoke of incense, I would have dissolved into air. Even the carved painting on the rock, Has a time of disappearing. Who has created your mind? Which seems permanent. Although the caged hope in me, Fragile as dew, I won’t give up,…




12 Most Beautifully Touching Missing You Poems

BayArt - New Perspective on Life

I love missing you poems because “When you miss someone….it’s weird…your body doesn’t function normally..as it should. Because I miss you, and my heart…it’s not steady…my soul it sings numb. Fingers are cold…like you…your soul.”  ― Coco J. Ginger What is that? It feels intense and the worst part is that you feel completely out of…




Words to Babble With

A blank page on the screen that is the gym mat for working out syntax bend some words back wind up writing sentences so absurd that you fear the reaction if so and so heard that. But you don’t turn back because you grow to prefer that.   Quirks that galvanize the gals and guys The…




I Like the Word Fathom

I like the word fathom as the title suggests I cannot fathom not liking it.   I cannot fathom biking it to Nicaragua Or eating Pluto in one spoonful   I cannot fathom being raped by a towering, massive cell mate But what I can fathom is sh*tt*ng soiling myself to drive potential rapists away    …




Somber Notes

I am one of many, flickers in hellfire Extending myself to be an outlier Distinguished in this petty human history Hang my hat kneeling down My motivation is no mystery   Will undoubtedly perish nameless and in poverty Playing the lottery White lines stripe my pottery Etching failure in stone A lawn that needs watering…




Bare

BayArt - New Perspective on Life

(This is a re-post from my own poetry blog, but I thought it’d be appreciated here:) My face. Scrubbed and polished to its natural perfection Simply to be covered by Chemicals, Cloggers, Unnatural elements that may or may not cause future harm Whilst striving for a look that is not my own Men. They walk…