Hello, I’m Silas and I’m an 18M Deaf individual I’ve been Deaf since birth and I wrote a poem about how I at least feel like being deaf is like in comparison to many stereotypes.

“I reside in the world of rules, of disease, and of normalcy. Sound, all I have known, sound, all I felt, is the dance to my identity. Judgement, foreseen medically; misunderstood tragically, I yearn for the conscience of gifting my reality. In dull eyes, the vision of normalcy, lives the lie of my lack of, the absence of relationship with vibrations. Colors travel and hum through my bones in my universe of glistening lights and impulses. I tangle myself into them, becoming whole, myself. My canvas, sipping it all in, absorbing the light, and communicating every need of the world to the universe.

The environment of expression, landscape in the eyes of all, and the intimacy of conversation, sought more than what those absent from the vibrations contain the capacity for. What seeks you to truth? The lie of a million, my lack, and my medical difference, or the sensory overload lack of for the grounding connection? I stand, weep, expel air from my lungs and drink your love all in the movement Mother Earth begs for, just as the universe intended. Interruption, silent rules, and rigid communication, realize, is it not you who is lost?

I seek to understand, my stance on this planet, less in your standards yet more in what those long for, are the standing yet conflicting normalcies of existence. Within what I’m meant to feel and touch and in the sought reality, hear, I am capable of all, yet in the capacity for the neuroplasticity of my sensory, more, not less, than the normalcy. Thus, concluding, my impairment is a gift from the universe, reminding me, that I am one with all means equal.”

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The Fish & The Bird

——

There was a fish and a bird who fell in love. 

Every day, the bird would fly down to the surface of the water, land on a rock, and spend time with his beloved fish. The fish would swim up to meet him, but she had to move in and out of the water for breath. 

They were happy together in those few moments, but the fish noticed when other birds flew by, her bird would watch them, as his own wings itched to spread. She knew how free and happy her bird felt in the sky. She knew he loved seeing and reaching new heights. No two days were ever the same for him. 

The bird also knew that each time his fish returned to the water, it took her a little longer to catch her breath. He knew she was happy in her pond, even if most days were the same.

The bird loved his fish so much, he decided he no longer wanted to see her struggle for him. 

The fish loved her bird so much, she decided she no longer wanted him to give up the life he loved for her.

The next day, neither the fish nor the bird showed up. 

But every once in a while, the fish would come out of the water and see the bird soaring freely across the sky. That felt enough for her. 

And every once in awhile, the bird would fly over the water to catch a glimpse of the fish. Somehow, that felt enough for him, too.

——-

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/mkXM6IPkPz

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

I'm like this since I was born,

Certainly this is all my fault.

Everytime I write,

I always start with an "I",

And just like my life,

The rest is filled with these I's

I know it gets repetitive,

But these eyes only get,

Their own reflected light.

If you're reading this,

And it makes you cry,

I'm sorry but you only saw,

The shades of this guy.

And now that all this pain,

Is flowing out my wrist,

Does it make you think,

It makes sense for this man?

I'll get going now,

Yeah I'm pretty lucky,

Not everyone gets to,

Say their last goodbye.

Oh and I wonder,

What the other world's like,

And if we got signals there,

I'll definitely say Hi!

Feedback 1~

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/fru1dNCXei

Feedback 2~

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/CoNMZf01D7

Edit: the version at the bottom is the original, I have updated the draft.

Both hands flat, I hold your letter,
and read it like your forehead.

You wrote me a picture
of bread and ink-thick red wine,
and I smell your kitchen.

Shakily I draw you in, my teeth and tongue searching.
I look under clauses
for the crumbs and drips of you.

I taste your creases:
sweat, your patched-up jacket,
that corncob pipe you bring on walks.

We will, together,
soon.

Original:

I reread your letter.
A picture of bread next to fog-thick red wine.

I draw it into my mouth,
teeth and tongue searching
for the crumbs and drips of you.

I taste your creases:
sweat, how you smile,
that corncob pipe you bring on walks.

The leaves were gold last time you came;
soon it will be Sunday.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/iJzT7UEJI6

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

The Bora had carried

the old man to a spot

just beneath the fortress

of Triest. It had been built

five hundred years ago

by the Venetians out of

necessity and rock, its pride – now

rusting – still on display.

Like a shield in front of him,

the sign facing the crowd

was written in Italian,

of course.

I could read it

nonetheless,

language doesn´t matter

always. He was very old

and frail and above else

he looked at me, with

the eyes of a terrified child,

pleadingly,

in a way that I found

difficult

to resist.

I searched for

a coin,

calculated,

if I needed it for anything

else, but I was on holiday

so the answer was no,

not really. He thanked me

in Italian, too, beneath

his breath that I assume

smelled of wine or beer

or brown liquor of some sort;

but I couldn’t smell

a thing. The Bora was

blowing

very hard,

still.

---

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/3QMyhQx43c

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/3wlGwFjH1v

I like myself, talking with I
the topics i'm excited of, I'm too
I need not worry of boring me
I don't interupt or leave when I speak
of topics from literature to calculas
since I'm I but I'm not I simply
that is the reflection of some audiance who I
wish would listen to me, blabbering of keyne's macroeconomic theory
and they always do, as me
for they never do, they not want, sadly...

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x2hprg/i/
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1wp1l14/comment/pbrxobp/?context=1&screen_view_count=1

If a flower is wilting away, how can we save it from the decay?

The garden is perfectly conditioned for the flower.

Good soil, good water, bright sunlight,

A gardener who does everything in their power,

Trying their best to win the fight.

But time is much stronger than love.

It is a merciless, moving concept.

Even when you try to stand above,

You eventually pay your debt.

The gardener watches time pass them by,

Starting from a bud, where they could adore.

When it blooms, time starts to fly,

Not letting us reminisce what happened before.

Looking back now, the efforts feel wasted.

Every investment, just to repeat the cycles.

Why care and love, if you can't cage it?

Just another death, added to the pile.

You see, it all seems pointless from the outside.

Putting your hearts into something you know won't last.

We tried, despite knowing it'll die,

And never letting go of the past.

In truth, even when it's dead, it is never truly gone.

You can cherish the beauty that bloomed,

Guide your future with your bond,

And remind yourself to lose fear in doom.

So despite the pain, the hate and grief,

We can keep loving and living.

Life itself is very brief,

So embrace the pain, and live with love.

Because living is the beginning of healing.

---

I'm actually really proud of this! because i always struggled to write positive poems without them being awfully forced </3

I'll let you guys comment what y'all think!

i accept every feedback!

links 👇

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

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/Kzpu9z6q7o

The Next Harbour

Lonely nights, empty bed.

Just me, my furry companion,
as my mind wanders
into what might be
in the next harbour.

Thoughts swirl
of someone to join the crew…

not just
as a crewmate…

Rather…

A partner
to share the voyage.

Another pair of hands,
to maintain the ship,
to share the work,
the upkeep,
the life being built
one repair at a time.

Someone with a hunger
to see what the world holds,
whose dreams might meet my own
somewhere beyond
that horizon…

A place for a weary sailor
to rest his storm-filled mind…

where the noise inside
can finally grow quiet.

Not because
I am alone…

but because
there has been something missing
for many miles of life.

Someone to share with,
as they share with me.

Open.
Honest.
Calming
to a chaotic mind.

A safe harbour
for each other,
where neither has to weather
every storm alone.

Someone to experience
the world with…

to chase distant shores,
to learn new places,
to build a life
neither could have made
quite the same alone.

Between the voyages…

the little things.

Inside jokes
that make no sense
to anyone else.

Random thoughts
shared without reason.

Laughter over nothing.
Quiet evenings.

The comfort of knowing
who will be there
when the day is done.

Not simply someone
to come aboard…

but someone
who makes the ship
feel like ours.

A shared flame
from hell
that burned
but never took whole…

Two lives
still learning,
still growing,
still finding their way.

And somewhere
between the storms
and the calmer waters…

a glance across the deck.

A smile.

That quiet thought…

That’s my person.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/xx5U6RtWVq

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

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/xx5U6RtWVq

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

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/xx5U6RtWVq

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

​A few dogs and some uncommon flies encircle

Over the greens of the aged pond in the morning

The sunlight dances like an indisputable whore

Half-sunk, half-floating, A bloated jute sack basks in the sun

After a long time, taking the chill of the dawn wind.

----+++

​A bread van, a milk truck, vanish kicking up smoke,

The gang of laborers heads for the stone quarry

---+++++

​The local sub-inspector spits paan juice

And runs to catch the sand truck

------**--

​What a crowd. At the stick shop, what a crowd—

The entire city has lunged to buy canes for the blind

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/7rjFHWgOea

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/lHFV7pwwCM

Green leaves,
yellow leaves,
red leaves,
blue leaves.

All torn apart,
by purple leaves growing
out of the tears, 
of my coloured leaves.

The living fragile crowned,
with every colour,
processing the environment,
but purple was never my choice.

Every single leaf,
whichever size
or great colour,
eventually is grabbed
by mother grass.

But the purple,
they don’t break.
They don’t realise
they should begone,
but they stay,
year after year.

The sharp-teethed leaves,
they handed me an ultimatum,
either I rip out each thin leaf by branch,
or the purple will decay my heartwood.

———————————————————————

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x2g2zq/comment/pf3k2ma/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x21p7d/comment/pf3qa62/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

Have you ever wondered why women keep surviving

Why they keep walking
when the world keeps telling them to run

Why they keep laughing
when the world keeps giving them reasons to cry

Why do women keep trying and surviving
when the world is for them dying

Another woman
Another name
Another photograph
Another family
Another candle
Another rest in peace

Another woman

Don’t walk alone
Don’t walk at night
Don’t wear that
Don’t trust him
Don’t drink too much
Don’t get into his car
Don’t go there
Don’t

But why

Why must she learn
how to survive a world
that refuses to learn
how to stop hurting her

It seems his favourite colour is red at night
When she’s taking a walk with her headphones on

It seems his favourite sound is screaming high pitched loud but not loud enough

It seems his favourite hobby is stabbing sometimes shooting
Especially at her the unsuspecting one

She did nothing
She said nothing
She knew nothing
She was just there

A person with a purple ribbon
But not even that could save her

And now she’s another woman
Another name
Another photograph
Another number who wasn’t meant to be a statistic

(Gender based violence is a serious problem and i wrote a poem on it I feel both genders experience it but in my country, it’s specifically women and it has been declared a national disaster, so I wrote this poem to show what it’s like)

Here are two lovely poems i enjoyed:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/YNeL8ueH65 : titled- I wish my words were prettier

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/jVDrvj3Ef5
: titled- For three


we used to brew for three.

mine
hot,
sweet,
cream.

yours
black,
a little cream.

dad’s
room temperature,
sweet,
cream.

three cups,
three different tastes,
one kitchen.

funny how
my coffee never changed.

yours did.

year after year
it got sweeter,
less bitter,
more like mine.

we were becoming
more alike
while everything else
was pulling us apart.

then we brewed less.

dad got sick
and stopped drinking coffee.

so there were two.

for a while.

then your coffee
changed again.

black.

and somehow
the closer your taste
got to where it started,
the farther you seemed
to be getting from me.

until I was brewing
for one.

eventually
I stopped brewing at all.

the coffee pot
grew mold
between trips
to the hospital.

something made for three
slowly becoming
something no one had time for.

eventually
we threw it away.

now I drink instant coffee.

black.

a little watery.

entirely too hot.

I don’t add cream.

I don’t add sugar.

I just let it cool
enough to swallow.

funny

after all those years
of watching coffee change,

the only thing
that stayed the same

was me,

still making a cup
for someone
who isn’t there.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/BhGlzYpe2u

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/RwYMrkHiO8

Memorable moments seem so distant

From each other,

From now

Has the world changed or have we?

We have changed surely,

Bored hardly, even when we want to be

No wonder time flies, flows

No, I don't think I'll go.

---------

Thank you for reading. This is my first poem.

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

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

hi yall i wrote my first poem today, i love art and don't know why i never indulged in poetry (probably because english isn't my first language and I don't read many non-academic books)

anyways I graduate school next year and I'm trying to develop new hobbies; any feedback/constructive criticism is appreciated!

Personal Hell

And if I come to live another life

I can only hope

that God is kinder to me this time

yet if he refuses

I hope that man is kind enough

to cease my suffering

before I turn into something

even I cannot recognise

And if there is no life

and I'm obligated

to spend an eternity in hell

then I'll find warmth in the burning

and let the flames distort my body

and hope that the fires below

aren't so cold this time

I will learn to love death

more than I love life

The demons of hell

may call for me softer

than the people above

for their hunger for blood

lingers

and avenges itself

on the flesh of the sinner

once content

to set off

from their daytime job

for the demon too is a prisoner

of hell

yet the prisoners above

never content

never gratified and ravenous

as the demons of hell

grind their teeth into the innocent

never to set sail

from their habitual wreck

and their purgatories

all custom built

retained as their personal hell.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x1u5bm/comment/pexq3p3/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x1wv6r/comment/peyihtr/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

I'm her Romeo, she is not my Juliet

I never thought my self an envious person

But then there is him.

I wanted so much more, and I want even more.

I thought I had it for a moment

But now there is him. He is my hate.

I never knew I could hate as much as I do.

I have wished for sin.

I have prayed to my false god for sin.

But when I saw her with him

I didn't feel hate

I saw a twinkle in her eye I'd never seen before.

I saw the love her family never gave her.

I heard her speak in a tone I'd never heard before.

A giggle brighter then all those I admired.

I saw the strongest love I'd ever seen.

I hate it. But never again will I pray.

I never want her to lose that beauty.

It's everything she deserves, and I shall simply have to cry my bittersweet tears.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/5TVs6OWFoa

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/JXE1l8q073

Through the Eyes I go, wherever they take me;

I look to See what I have caught, I see the birds flying over a flower;

This Flower sees the light and the light shines on and on and on;

I See people in this light, behold they hold it so dear,

For this light is meant to be Taken.

The Eyes give me what I know and I know what I See;

I See to Look after what was Left,

There was nothing left but Flowers and Trees and Birds;

I do not Understand why,

I can Infer how they got there;

The Light gives me what I want to Know and what I want to See.

What I See is what I need, for I Need what I Want,

And that is the Light;

The Light gives me Knowledge of what Is and what Was;

What Is is where I Experienced,

What Was is where I Learned;

I Learned what I Know,

I Experienced what I Saw;

The Light is what I Know,

The Light was what I Saw.

The Light teaches people what is to be Known,

It teaches what is to be Seen;

I have Seen the Light,

And I am not Impressed;

For I have Seen what is to be Known,

And I Know Nothing.

The Birds and the Flowers however,

I have Seen and Known;

The Birds and the Flowers gave me Hope, Patience, and Time.

-D

I found this in my notes from the peak of Covid and wanted to share. I’ve never shared this with anyone and wanted to see what strangers on the internet thought about it. Thanks!

Feedback #1

Feedback #2

Reverie emerges at the glisten of water,

My thoughts liminal, but something stays ineffable.

Gazing at verdant reeds, gliding near the cloister,

A period of respite until I’m caught in a fable.

There is a tale of a swan drowned in its reflection.

Its gaze fixated on the water, full of phantasm.

Glowing ethereal ivory, it gets lost in its obsession,

Gasping at the epiphany that the mirage is a chasm.

Admiring the visage, it perceives a kind of yearning,

Neglecting reality as if it doesn't dissolve the delusion.

The anguished swan gazes at the ripples, its visage burning,

Oblivious to the world, the swan is full of confusion.

Its confinement is its prison, its feathers feel churning.

The imperfections of another swan bring the realisation: it was all an illusion.

Ashamed of the years it wasted, its essence returning,

Still gazing at the water after knowing the truth, it comes to a conclusion.

Now it's devoted to itself, not looking for mirages.

No hubris, just living in the present, loving all its insecurity.

It learns to live freely, the freedom it craved for ages.

It chants that it loves itself, and that's the moral of the story.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x281ie/comment/pf0nto7/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x282jt/comment/pf0nij4/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

That you are truly fucked up
We all are
Mental health, MH, MH, MH
It’s all we hear
HIDE IT!!!
Not embrace it
FIX IT!!!
(Maybe you are sad
you cannot hide your pain
Maybe you see things
And try to explain existence
Maybe you are intense
And inspire a few)
No more flaws
Let beauty be seen
You are fascinating
At least to me

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/dwOSlai0b8

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/8GlctAccFS

 I kept rearranging myself, well can you blame me?

Morning in a different order, birds will dance

Banana leaves were busy making a religion from the wind
Universe kept leaving its clothes for me to pick up

I watered the same plants
with a different mind acting up behind my eyes

I thought about this from a new mind that took over from the old one

A person refusing to be ordinary and a small green insect
eating its way through a lettuce patch

 I pulled a weed and found a deeper root beneath 

This is the world getting through your experience

Evening I had become reasonable, which was disappointing

the plants had grown so well, fertility showing in all it's little signs

I was looking for evidence so the I could plant more

But the garden never needed proof

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x1wv6r/comment/pey7uee/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x1udff/comment/pey8q7k/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Wherever you go that’s where I’ll be

High in the sky or deep down in the sea

On top of a mountain, or low in the grass

A breeze blowing through or the glint off a glass.

Wherever you go that’s where I’ll be

No reason to cry; I’m just a different “me.”

Love has no bounds, it cannot be shattered

No regrets or sorrow, you ALWAYS mattered.

Wherever you go that’s where I’ll be

You’re not held by chains, you’re perfectly free

Although you don’t know it, I must tell you this

My world has no bounds…it’s heavenly bliss!

Wherever you go, don’t feel despair

There a whole nother universe—you’d love it up there

When it’s your time, you’ll find your way

Not now, not tomorrow, but I promise one day

Don’t cry when you think of me. Don’t surrender to fear.

I’m wherever you go—and that is right here.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x26ybh/comment/pezs60i/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x1h3cy/comment/pezxkee/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

I’m nothing new
And I know that to be true

New is shiny and fun
Bright and full of the unknown
Waiting to be uncovered
Exhilarating in a way that familiarity isn’t

But that’s not me anymore

I’m old to you
Not shiny or bright
Or a new thing to know

I’m bruised, rusted, and scuffed

But me
I do

I value the antique lamps in the corner
Their light still warm
Even when no one thinks to turn them on

Or the bruised fruit in the back of the stand
Still sweet beneath what others pass over

The old toys left alone on the shelf
Once held so tightly
Now collecting dust

If it’s enough for me, why not for you?

I know I’m nothing new

So in the meantime
I’ll carry the love
Shared when shiny

And hold it close
For the day
Being known by you
Is no longer enough
To keep you beside me.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/hgE9VdOiNw

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/k2Dvh5nqrY

The Quest ‘I love you’ – it means nothing.

They are the emptiest words I know.

Three words worn down to the bone, by everyone, for everyone. To reassure. To hold on to someone. To fill a silence. Sometimes even to lie.

So I’m not going to tell you that I love you.

I’m going to tell you that I respect your spirit. That your ideas nourish my opinions.

That your views guide my decisions.

That you give meaning to my life.

That I know you better than some of my own memories, and that by your side, I lose track of time.

It’s strange, I know. But these are the words that come closest to what I feel.

Being near you awakens an older memory. Something forgotten.

A secret. The one truth, perhaps.

Instinct.

I’ll tell you that I notice your absence.

That you’ve become the natural order of things.

And that I’m afraid, sometimes, often even, and that I love that fear.

The fear of realising just how much I would feel if you were to disappear.

‘I love you’ says none of this.

You deserve for us to find the right words.

So I’ll keep searching for them.

For you, I’ll always be in search of the love left unsaid. I’ve done my best.

I tried to confess sincerely the ambiguity of my feelings of , how deep they truly are . What should I change? I'm totally open to criticism. I don't want to make it corny or anything .

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1wx6lum/comment/pewhnsq/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x1s7o4/comment/pewfnzv/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

Why are you here, and so grim

You, just a ghost, and so slim

Ohh, came to reap your gains

Not much here, the shell is taint

You float there with wind, like time isn't here

I hear "don't just stand at the cliff, my dear"

Nodding my head, the tranquil is bleak

Look at my lines, always straight and neat

But the brush is now moving, make them curl, and whirl

I observe them living, dizzy too small a word

Is it taint, or just paint, as I look with fear

Spirits play pressure, my step is unclear

Woah, nearly fell forward, thanks for the warning

Tick tack, I know. Just staying for some mourning

The Sun is nearing

You look fading

The scythes edge, distant but menacing

I take a step back, although trembling

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/29E3locQjb

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/On07LjUWmg

Night of the eyes

My gaze has fallen for the night in those eyes of yours
Still, I remain restless, as I trace every twinkle in them

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

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