Learn more about other poetry terms

Darling, you love me And yet, I love you more My angel, you like me And, but I like you more.
drip    drip   drip, crack   drip   drip   drip, puff
The clock ticks down the day, How much longer I have to wait, For the revolving door to make its final spin. Around it goes in a shadowy blur, Its magnificent speed is hard to ignore.
Dear No one. Someone I have met in the past, But refuse to let back in today. You remain, knocking, at my door Seeking, to see if I still have hurt in my soul. But I don't,
My mind explodes with hatred. I was only told of the awful memories. I was only told of the abuse. My mom wanted to protect me from the bad. I was forced into a game of hide and seek except there was no one looking for me.
One dreary night so bleak and grim, I found myself gone in spirit. No longer was I alone in my room, but alone in the depths of a pit. I looked around this dark chamber but only the full moon and Draco would meet my eyes.
I am from music at volumes so highFrom the feelings of all that make you sigh I am from hours of bright, hot lightsAnd the packing of instruments at the end of the night
she went in her room and shut the door
What would you change If given the opportunity What would you change?   I would change The amount of waste left behind I would change The way people ignore the cries for help.
When I walk out that door, I want… To see an end to sexual harrassment, I  Want to see women wearing whatever they want. And not having to worry about, Being catcalled or harrased when they
Screeching Scratching Goes the door Latching its Latch through The floor The pitching So cruel To my ears After all These years The door Still leers
My Door   My door keeps people in or out when I Want to be alone. I do not understand Why others do not comprehend this fact. My door represents privacy at home –
Bam, the door closes Your toe is in between Oww, oww, you yell and jump around while holding your leg   Sensory nerves from your toes Shoots up your body to the brain
When at a door a common thing Is to knock your hand on that door. But is that door meant to be knocked on? Is your hand meant to knock?   Or is your hand meant to build that door
From the corner of my eye she peeks into the world, Timid and soft-spoken— I can hear her But others say they can't hear this girl. She never bothers to speak up, Always insisting on getting ignored,
As I walk through the door, nothing but childhood memories hit the floor, calling me back to where I once stood, happy and understood.
You’re on a rock. You don’t know how you got there or maybe you do; regardless your there. You might’ve faced a great tragedy you can’t accept, or just a great dilemma you can’t figure out a solution to.
Subscribe to door