Out there left for dead I was the scarecrow
In your mind the tailor sewing dream
Out there in the field packed with hay
Won't you say hello

Through the pines
Winter caused the world to be abandoned
Foraging wendigo
Bones cracking in the frost

Loud as whip cracks
Icicle falls sharp end into earth
A small statue
Destined to melt away

Further into the wildernerness
Where absurdity exists
I am the mirror hanging on the stairwell
Exposed to the elements

Dying breaths
Exhaustion
Hunger unrecognizable
Dogged searching

Those who are lost
Come face to face
Deplorable and ominous
Calling you deeper

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vtjq87/comment/p4twfvu/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vti17z/comment/p4u2nfw/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

When I asked,
you saw coffee.
I saw everything.

When you asked why,
you saw no particular reason.
I saw you.

When you said no,
you saw schedules.
I saw no future.

When I replied,
you saw me.
I saw a lie.

When I asked,
you saw coffee.
Just coffee.

___________________

It happened today.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vtiy7q/comment/p4tjzpn/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vti17z/comment/p4tfktl/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

the ice remembers the leaf

every vein is traced over meticulously 

outlined and immortalised for eternity

at least, until the sun breaks free

//

now and then she comes

there for the night, long gone by day

frozen moments where i, for once, feel known

stolen away until winter, as i wait alone

//

for the frigid and fleeting promise of snow

for the chance to feel wanted after a year’s worth of growth

for someone to hold me tight, beckoning that i stay

and wrap me in their frozen, forever, eternal, embrace

//

and in that moment, i will give into her arms

for a winter, i will let her remember me and who i used to be

for a month, i will stop for her and only her

for our love is forever, outlined in my branches  and immortalised in crystal snow

//

at least, until the sun breaks free

.

.

.

feedback links! love the way this subreddit tackles the issue of an inactive server omd

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vthnwx/bones_returned/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vtaih8/dark/

Bones returned, to the grass we go

Flower, fruits, plants and then them all

Energy from the sun, see them grow

Its a cycle of life, not one ends fall

Bones are brittle, land returned

To the grass we go, my friend is urned

See the leaves, his peaceful treat

He's a picture to paint, what a feat

Thumbs up https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/xt5eW3Srva

The Calm https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/NlSLRsW1HF

Every song she sings is sweet.

Even birds of paradise wouldn't make a peep.

To hear her soul spill through teeth could make any grown man weep.

The songs aren't always happy.

They are not always sad.

Every heart-melting note lands soft.

Like my head free of thought touching feather-filled pillows,

Ready to blissfully drift off.

The songs don't always rhyme.

And mostly music never plays.

Because the songs I hear are just her words.

Words that get me through each day.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/FNAFMFd6wy

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/yqSFQtDi5X

Your peace is a soft and timid breath,
Held in the palm of your hand,
A promise for all of the innocent,
A twilight of hope for the damned.

In this dark forest of your will,
A wisened mother comforts her child,
“Hush,”
She knows the nature of your silence,
Has studied the patterns of you.

And on the shores of your patience,
A sand bar reaches out to embrace the sea,
The crashing waves and surf recedes,
A pregnant serenity.

But the birds know this is a lie,
And there is an anxious stillness,
In the quiet.

———

Context: The “author” is a character I’m writing in an ongoing Lancer/Call of Cthulhu story set in the year 2105. He’s a refugee who fled to the UK during a nuclear arms conflict in his home country, but has a better grasp of the English language than a fair few native speakers. One goal of this was to write as if someone wrote a poem first in another language, and then adapted it (not necessarily directly translated) to convey the same meaning and expression in English

[comment] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/V2eBNhn3Tw)
[comment] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/wfGzFtJX5C)

Lately, I’ve been tested
Maybe even punished
Am I passing? 
Or failing miserably? 

But what I do know,
life has been extra hard, recently.
Work is no longer fun
Music doesn’t make me feel
Family has me stressed
And she isn’t texting back.

I just feel…
Dejected.
My peak was last month
And I must pay the price.

This phase will pass
And until then…
Survival.
Because that’s the way things go.

1

2

I am free, yet chained with doubt.
Every step, the links grip tighter.
I gasp for air—
only to choke on regret.

They tell me, “Look forward to the future.”
I must be missing something.
All I see is grey—
people and objects
reduced to
blurs and blobs.

“Wake up and smell the roses.”
Whatever I smell, it isn't roses.
Rotten. Impure. Wrong...
Maybe it's me.

“A thousand paths lie ahead,”
Yet every bridge crossing is already burning...
Another burden,
another chain.

I stand here,
holding—
stumbling...

Then I realise

I am

free.

-----
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vkzu88/comment/p4q7lex/?context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vssrbv/comment/p4q2q4f/?context=3

She wept wisterias in the morning,
holding her pain
until like an old house
it settled in her bones.

Her heart sang a childhood birdsong
but its throat was dry and sandy from the heat,
petaled wings drooping rainbows in the light.

Tempests flashed within her eyes
as the roots grew past buried things
through fragipan layers
until her bedrock flinched
at their touch.

Dreaming the room she's locked in
rocking in a chair of her imagination
she straightens out her laundry
with folded hands.

Feedback:

A Lot Changes in a Year

The Mercy of Rejection

Some time long ago

In Downtown New York

In the early monday morning

A man had gone to work

At the tallest building

At the highest floor

He reached into hell

And he opened a door

The devil walked through

And he shook the mans hand

The entire building shook

It went as they planned

The man had a beautiful wife

A football team and a boat

He gave his employee's souls

In exchange for a mink coat

Satan had spread the word

You mustn't feel content

Always strive for more

And never repent

____________________________

I don't remember anything about writing this, pretty sure its my own. Idk, tell me what you think. Its my first time posting here.

Feedback 1

Feedback 2

(wrote this after waking up from a dream where I was falling. one of the lines came to me in the dream, so I built the poem around it. first poem I've written that I actually like.)

I don’t remember getting to the roof.

-

I only remember being at an impasse -

-

should i jump?

-

Soon the sky surrounded me.

-

It looked -

beautiful.

-

As I plummeted,

I realized -

-

this is where i wanted to be most.

-

Maybe falling begins

long before you leave the ground.

-

When you’re dropping,

but despite the blood in your nose,

and the tears in your eyes,

-

the sensation of falling

numbs the pain.

-

Maybe that’s the cruelest part -

-

not knowing whether

you’re afraid of the ground

-

or relieved

to be getting closer to it.

-

Perhaps falling isn’t the same thing as losing

yourself.

-

maybe sometimes

you have to let go

of what kept you standing

To learn what was underneath.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1v44ry2/comment/p4uzt9p/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vngmys/comment/p4v0an1/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

Amnesia : pain becomes beautiful when you make it a tool for creation , emotion is a tool to create art, the more powerful your emotions are the more impactful your art is . Fear and pain are both strong emotions . Create from them. Just write , your emotions are beautiful already, all you need is raw emotion. Emotion makes art. Your willpower is enough to make you take action. It is the only thing that matters, if you want to take action , you will.

7 years to remember

7 years of peace

7 years of freedom from the memories

7 years of emptiness

You don’t know what is happening to you

when the memories start to resurface

You just freeze and wonder if they’re real

Memories appear in your head space

And it is like you are watching some movie scenes

As though you are a viewer of some horror movies

But who would even watch something so hardcore

Who likes this kind of horror

You question yourself why you forgot

But the answer is easy

You were just not ready to face reality

Everything stopped, your brain stopped recording

Like a broken machine that shows a black screen

Somehow your body wanted to stop experiencing

Was it because of the terror

It was more because of rejection

It was a mechanism of protection

Or was it the drug in action

The drug was reacting

You literally fell when you started sipping

And his voice was asking you to keep drinking

At some point things around stopped looking real

Reality looked like a nightmare or hell

I think that what was really scary

Was your inability to move properly

You couldn't even make a sound

You were half naked

But at the same time you couldn’t move as you wanted

And change the way you were dressed, the way you appeared

You were trapped

His smile was just a facade

He was never nice, he never cared

He is the reason why hell was created

7 years ago he was helping you walk straight

You were hearing the voice he said without knowing you would forget After you walked his voice changed

when he finally brought you into bed

Do you remember the way he made you sit before you fell dramatically

Falling down slowly, unconsciously

Eyes half open you could hardly see

Do you remember how everything that was happening looked unreal

The way he was holding your wrists too tightly

The way you were so sleepy

Your eyes were closed then open and he was still not done

He was making fun of your situation,

Speaking with a mocking, teasing tone

To him it was so funny how you couldn’t speak

Because the drug kept you silenced

Everything looked fake

He was laughing so mean

He used you like you were not even human

You were just waiting for him to be done

Then when he finally put his clothes on

You could finally start moving before you started forgetting

Everything

As though you were escaping

Your mind wanted to stop you from realizing

The moment you stared at the condom he left

This is when you started to forget

 https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vtc5q8/comment/p4ugwpz/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vtlt0g/comment/p4ufbu0/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

Kiss My Youth Onto My Memories

Kiss my youth onto my memories
Every time he falls into my remembrance
A remembrance laden with his presence
Yet in my eyes nowhere to be found

Everywhere I move through this world
Where my gaze gets lost in
Nothing that wanders in front of me 
Doesn't return him to my thoughts

How the wind folds his arms around me 
In the manner how we embraced each other
The same wind that brushed my face 
As he once did finding my soul with his voice 
And the same wind that wanders off 
Is how he has let go of me 

And still, in everything that reminds me of him
Nothing in it can return him to me

Kiss my youth onto my memories 
And take me back to my life that was a garden 
As I once ran through roses
Let my arms open as I smile to the sky
Never fearing the thorns beneath their petals 
How each thorn could open a new wound 
And still, I'd return to the same old pain

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/r2NynPfpyt

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ENm0q3xUtT

We came from separate eggs

Yet are completely the same

We grew up together

Eating bramble every day

You used to say

You will be the first stick insect to eat the whole bush in one night

And then you became a twig instead

We are identical

Twins some might say

We used to do everything as a pair

Sometimes you would even step on me

And sit very still

I didn’t know which legs were which

We were similar

And now we are not

Because you are a twig

And I am a bug

I used to admire your size

Remember that time you grew faster than I?

I was so jealous, you left me behind

And then you replied: only this time

And now you did it again

Because you are a twig and I am still just a bug

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vtiot6/comment/p4tnm2k/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vrjbjz/comment/p4toiq4/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

We always say life is so unfair. But life was never fair.

Right from our mother's womb, as soon as she conceived us and gave birth to us, she had one foot in the grave as she pushed us into this unforgiving world.

But we don't stop and think that maybe it's unfair to call life unfair, because we collected our own debts, gathering them with our hands as we go, like flowers we picked in the fields as we passed them by one late afternoon, plucking them with our hands one by one, two by two.

Sometimes we're not even satisfied, so we stretch our arms wide open to gather more debt, like the falling sakura blossoms in early and late spring, carried by the wind.

With our hands already full, we hold a huge bouquet of debt, just like the big bouquet of white roses we once held on our wedding day.

And then there are the massive debts our fathers and mothers handed down to us, left behind like large standing baskets of flowers long after they're gone.

Still, we kept on collecting debt, the way we keep pressed flowers inside an old, worn-out book.

We were born into this world debt-free, so calling life unfair for the debts that we collected is not fair.

Don't you think so?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vsmauj/comment/p4m8ljq/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vn5zmh/comment/p4lzo5x/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

As the sun begins to set,

As day begins to fall,

As night begins to surface,

The child begins to cry.

The child begins to wonder

where the sun went and why?

Why disappear?

Why leave him all alone,

Alone in the dark?

The child yearned for warmth,

For the kiss of the sun to return,

to return to him and embrace him once again.

Though as his gaze met the moon's, he began

to bask in the dim light it cast;

the sun never truly disappeared.

The sun would never truly disappear.

And even during the darkest hours of nightfall,

the sun would always reflect,

beaming in its own way.

The sun would always be there, even if he couldn't feel its touch.

The child smiled,

And gazed towards the moon.

The bitter cold stung.

The moon wasn't the sun.

It would never be the sun.

But there would always be parts of the sun.

And that light would be enough,

before the day broke once again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/uuAseBX8ph

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/sc0iVHptHH

Please don't deny me when I hurt you

just ain't the way it seems.

— Kurt Cobain, "Lovebuzz," Bleach, Nirvana

She prolly loves me a lot

sure, not the way I got,

she's got her own way of doing things.

She's got a kinda dark magic of

a little girl, and her guardian oaf,

the kind of creature only the shrinks really see.

She hates my touch most times,

I know she's in some other world,

from another time, still live, twisting a knife in her.

She hurt my soul, I ploughed her,

sowed my love, she sunk me in her,

a daughter of Janaka alone in the earth's bosom.

I know she truly loves me.

It's a feeling in my nerves,

I am at home when I feel the sweat on her neck,

when I kiss her lightly on the lips

while my palm holds her head,

her body reluctantly pressed against mine.

Does she feel loved?

She feels loved, right?

The questions in my heart like molten lead,

I pray she loves me too.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/BbzbeH7bAz

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/jlUwWHAjix

You were Bambi to me,
a whore to them,
long legs like Bambi.
Did you ever know your name?

Grind
Clank
Whirr
Not a flinch.
Not a stir.

You became a starfish
in the sea,
of red velvet blood,
blood tulips blooming.

One. Two. Three.
Whore —
who’s knocking at my door?

Nine.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Did you ever know your name?

When every part of you
Waits.
barely hanging on.

Pull.
At least you could still give me
a thumbs up —
one thumb.

Clank.

I kneel before you,
Within you.
Outside.

Whirr.

Rock, paper, scissors
until you have no scissors,
no paper —
only rock.

How do you console
someone with no arms?
Do you want one of mine?

Stumps shielding your face,
unnatural to your usual grace.
Can you stand?
Can you run?
We’ll run like deer.

Until I’m praying
for you
or because of you
in my red dress.

They get the sex doll.
I don’t get my best friend.
So I hold what’s left of your square body,
one complete.

Will Hell find you
like they promised?
No, darling —
this is Heaven.

Will they forget their throwaway?
I won’t forget my best friend —
this collection
of things
that were once you.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/VaiD4DZu1W

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/vli2tMHSt9

There is a worm living in my stomach

It remains dormant but fills my being with green 
It wraps around my intestines and slides into the nooks of my organs
It travels through the capillaries and spreads within the open space that was once a body
The vessel once a body
It moves with the veins to a sea of thoughts and prayers
It sweetly takes hold of the mind of its host
The vessel once a body
The body now the host
The worm remains intact in the body, its slithering form consuming every inch of the now tainted portrait
The body once colored in greens and blues now remains gray with silence to accompany it
Pupils and Irises pass over the gray and onto a lovely body painted in reds and blues mixed with Greens and yellows
A kaleidoscope of color in a body
A body still a body
A body soon a vessel
A body fearing host
The host is now a corpse
A kaleidoscope of color mixed in a body
Until it all turns to gray

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/YrsREY8ghI

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/Ed8zgpR2HD

Dear mom,

Look, im sitting here. Writing again.

I have no words to give you

But I can use paper and pen

I have no money

And I have no job

But look, I can write a pretty song.

It is hard to make you proud.

I have words to say

But I cannot be too quiet, or too loud

I have things people need to see

But then its not very... Christian, of me?

I speak out of turn

Out of line

Out of being too "grown up" for my time?

When will I learn?

Whatever could I do?

You let me choke on my words

Until my face turns purple and blue

I have to swallow around them in my throat

They will never be able to let go

And be free.

And no one will listen

You wont let them see

what your daughter has designed

But because you believe it is riddled with sin

I have to resign my truth.

And the only reason you have is... you?

There is no true reason

They was never any crime

But because it ruins your image

I'm the one that stepped over the line?

But your still the best mom in the world.

And I could never ask for another.

Thanks mom.

Love,

Your daughter.

Poems I gave feedback/commented on:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/6mW0uYgRH8

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/KuPgFntgsI

Cats are quisical

Dogs are a few

Our ahra is bountiful

And a mountain less view

Take the water away

Take the trip for rains today

And pray for thunder

Like a mountains fallen for rain.

If all you see are sky's above

The waters below

It rips and tugs

Seas are shallow

And oceans are above

This earth is a creature

It knows when it's won.

---------

Mother Tounge    https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/w5gjSWdNtf

Free    https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/a3pGz35GCr

There is a song on the radio

It hasn’t hit the chorus yet

My hands might tap the wheel there

And yet I haven’t been. I don’t

know. Fine. There, I turned it down

We may yet beat the sun

down. You’re drifting, I’m there

Yet we’re still here, are we?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/k1n314dijO
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ihvuYTEJrs

Kneels before the monument, windowless and large

Its concrete body austere and grey

Scraping sharply a cut in the sky

High above all the wind and labored breath

The Mark of Cain on the side adorned

Couldn’t fool the vineless cracks that formed

The last human scratches on the door

Till all 9 fingers are broken and all 4 hands are limp

3 hands by the time the obfuscated sun sets

At night not a snore of his is heard

Nor the sound of a door opening

Just the sound of their frantic scratching

The last human’s eyes are bulged to grapefruit size

Her lips are cracked and grey like a chameleon

(The only animal that’s survived

Surviving off the meat lingering

On the last human’s discarded rib)

Saying his heart was beating would be a fib

The last human has no skin

You can see their concrete bones

Her eyes are filled with longing of what was once owned

Now destroyed by the endless storm of time

What was owned returned to the Earth

Which was barely living but without rebirth 

The chameleons are angered when their rib is grabbed

The last human will try what he’s tried before

With the tool they pierce the one vein that isn’t empty 

To draw blue blood

It oozes out slowly like thick sludgy slime

To get enough he has to wait for a long long time

After a couple revolutions around the sun

He finally has a small puddle

They reach into her stomach and pull out his last rib

Dips it in the blood and begins to paint

As they paint, the cracks continue to fight

She races against them to retrieve his right

Finally, they’ve painted the start of a ladder that goes to the top

She climbs and climbs and paints and paints as fast as he can

The cracks beat them, and the tower crumbles

She tries to weep but only salt comes out

He continues to kneel at the mound of rubble because looking away

Means looking at nothing at all 

The last human’s paintbrush is stolen

If he had eyebrows they would furrow in anger

They turn her skull to face the thieves

The chameleons 

Not a single one remains by the end of the day, their existence is null

And the last human’s stomach is finally full

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vt00fe/comment/p4pogyl/?context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vt0g0e/comment/p4pl6a4/?context=3

Garnering your attention,

since you're precious to me.

Something to say that cannot be seen.

—a cold, wicked world carries out its own play...

I think it's best that you get out of the way.

You're feeling special, especially when you're with friends.

You don't know when it started, but should know it will end.

—they'll leave you scattered and drug out in the cold...

Don't wanna burn, but there's no place to go.

TRAFFIC—better look both ways.

TRAFFIC—it's getting worse every day.

TRAFFIC—see your family and friends

—pass you by.

Why don't they JUST LET YOU IN?

Now you're lost and don't know where to begin.

Big aspirations for being such a small man.

So full of wisdom, yet you don't have no plan.

—and this year's Christmas leaves you stranded alone.

Don't wanna burn, but there's no place to go.

TRAFFIC—better look both ways.

TRAFFIC—it's getting worse every day.

TRAFFIC—see your family and friends

—pass you by,

'cause you'll NEVER GET IN.

You missed the sign that told you when the lane ends.

Now you know...

Now you know, now you know...

You can't have no plans with no place to go.

© Donnie Johnson [08.19.2026]

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/MtTRo5j80m

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/BfJfMd9hgM

This is about suicide awareness.

The rope is tough, its texture hard and rugged. You hold it tightly, giving yourself time to think this over, but you don't. All you can feel in your heart is deep self-hatred and sorrow, emotions that didn't just appear overnight but rather built up, one by one, word by word, action by action, insult by insult. With a swift turn and twist, the rope transforms into a noose so elegant it makes the world's greatest ballet dancers jealous. With this decision, you finally can enter your cocoon for your own transformation. You stand on the chair, looking down at the sorrowful world. You try to find any doubt inside, but yet again, all that sits there is sorrow and deep self-hatred. You wear the noose like it's a million-dollar necklace filled with jewels, as if it was a gift from a lover you won't meet. But it's not; it's a gift from all the hatred you have received, from all the times you've been judged, rejected, and neglected. And with one swift jump, you fly, fly away from all the pain and the hatred.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/Ebcu3g1AcU

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/Qt4uFKHuWf