Poetry Slam! Share Poems Yours or others!

@cyanessence

I believe we can learn and grow without thrue studies of any sort, looking at others do, but indeed we tend to learn faster through mistakes.. even watching others mistakes!

@ALIEN444

I really enjoyed reading that!

I relate a lot to the lines "Life is a wave and I just want the highs.

It's ironic because I'm afraid of heights."

I used to want just intense happiness, although I know that when I'm that happy I can't think, function. I'm thankful I've levelled out now, experiencing a range of emotions.

@ALIEN444 I love this, very well written 💜🥰

@ALIEN444

The Mercy of Oblivion

We are born

on a rock spinning in the void,

a brief flicker

on the scale of stars,

our entire lives

not even a whisper

against the roar of time.

We build—

cities, nations, stories—

stack our fragile dreams

into monuments of meaning,

hoping they’ll defy decay.

But stone crumbles.

Paper burns.

Voices rot.

No empire lasts.

No name endures.

The universe has no need

to remember us.

In a hundred years,

no one will know your favorite song.

In a thousand,

no one will remember

you ever breathed.

You could love deeply,

sacrifice everything,

write books, save lives,

burn with purpose—

but entropy does not care.

It takes kings and beggars alike,

treats legacy

as just more dust

to scatter.

The stars themselves

are dying.

And what of us?

We, the conscious mistakes.

Born aware enough

to ask why

but not equipped

to ever know.

Burdened with thought,

cursed with memory.

Animals that dream of eternity

but rot like all flesh.

We measure worth

in currency and praise—

illusions.

The richest man

dies the same

as the forgotten one in the alley.

Faith?

Another story

told to give shape to the void.

Hope?

A drug for the anxious.

Meaning?

Something we invented

to not go mad

with the truth:

there is no point.

And yet—

we go on.

We sing

into deaf skies.

We write

on paper that will yellow and tear.

We love

knowing it will end.

Maybe that’s the cruelest part.

Not that we’re forgotten,

but that we know we will be.

Ignorance is the only paradise,

denial the only shield.

To live wide-eyed

is to ache endlessly,

to know

you are not the hero of anything,

not even your own story.

Just a breath.

A blip.

A tremor

in a timeline that will erase you.

And in that erasure—

maybe peace.

Maybe freedom.

Maybe

the mercy

of oblivion.

@cyanessence 💜🥰

@cyanessence

Ash in the Void

I am a whisper in the wake of giants,

a dot on a timeline stretching

billions of years before my breath.

We arrived late,

dripping blood and invention,

carving our names into the bark

of a tree older than language.

In 0.01% of Earth’s life,

we broke her—

not with malice,

but with blind, hungry hands

and minds too proud

to see the mirror crack.

We run from death,

every breath a bargain,

every monument

a desperate prayer

that we will be remembered—

not as the cowards we became,

but the gods we pretended to be.

And now?

Now we build rockets,

not from wonder,

but escape.

We’ve bled this garden dry,

so we reach

for the next one to ruin.

Still, my brain,

this soft, faulty organ,

grieves the oceans

and gets angry

because I forgot to buy chips.

I see extinction

and feel sadness—

then sulk over empty cupboards.

Is there anything more human

than that?

To scream at the stars

and cry over snacks?

We are ruled by tiny hungers

in the shadow of cosmic silence.

We are brilliant,

and brain-dead.

Vast,

and pitiful.

Alive—

and already burning.

@cyanessence

Makes me think of Dr. Who.. Time is absolute, and a mysterious thing.. makes you love and end, you run from it, you kill it, you want it to stop, and yet you want it to fast forward.. time is the one thing we will never run from and at the same time always try to catch. 

Nice poem.