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 Jul 2020 LightToBurn
Han Drew
Sun
 Jul 2020 LightToBurn
Han Drew
Sun
You we're my sunshine
But then I remembered that the sun doesn't just shine for one person.
 May 2020 LightToBurn
Henk
I saw the fog as it came crashing through the trees
As if the heavens had changed its mind
Striking the soil,
The fields untilled,

At last, imbalance,
bitersweet imperfection
Free from the yokes of the ether
The heat of the stars but a memory

O! To become breath itself
O! To speak and to be
O! I am that which the light denys
Forsaking shape and dimension
Relentless and undefined
I see you changed your tune
Fast as phazes of the moon

So true,
That you

Should-a seen it comin',
Should-a heard the hummin

Right through,
Bright blue...


Must-a been my voodoo
Cause I sure did do it to you.

Oh you,
You're through.

You're through.

Must-a been my voodoo
Cause I sure did do it to you.

Oh you,
You're through

I can cross the river
'Bout-a any time I feel.
Nothing's gonna be a break
A-slowing down my wheel.
I'm gonna take you out
Any time I want
And it won't cost a pretty dime
Because inside of you, I haunt.
I have a few brief pieces of verse to post this morning. I hope they get read.
if the ocean would carry me
it'll collapse under the weight of my bones
made with cement and steel
and the burden each brick owns

witness the waves howler and scream
just like the heart caged in my chest
blood bubbling around the muscle
surging with every beat and protest

the bottom of the sea may be quiet
like my tongue folded neatly in my mouth
though feral beasts deep within
choke with pressure more than i can count

the ocean and i are seperate
both flowers from different gardens
one ephemeral, one wilting before your eyes
but both's head tilting up to the heavens

sorrowful eyes, swirling, storm awakening
chaos mingling betwixt water and blood
ravid souls in dire need of feeding
cursed and blessed by god

i wonder if i could carry the ocean
within just the corners of my palm
i and the ocean - we are one
a catastrophe after the calm
i love the ocean. it makes you feel a lot of things.
 Apr 2020 LightToBurn
Emily
Smoker
 Apr 2020 LightToBurn
Emily
i never used to smoke
but since you left,
it’s the only time i can seem to breathe
 Apr 2020 LightToBurn
Eloisa
Longer sleepless evenings
Humid, dark, and bleak
Serene and sorrowful homes
Blossoming sakura trees weep
With heavyhearted lonely buds
Spring, unforgettable saddest spring
Trees not lovelier and so are fields
Nor the day more delightful than the evening
These unhappy blooms in pink
Signal a different kind of grief
Sakura  (cherry blossoms) are constantly cited as the most recognizable sign of spring in Japan. When trees all over the country burst into breathtakingly beautiful clusters of pink flowers right about the time it gets warm enough, people  yearly go outside to enjoy. Blooming of the sakura is a beautiful  gift from mother nature, hanami (sakura viewing) is done by many people in spring.  But due to COVID-19 pandemic, parks right now are being closed to avoid more transmission of SARSCoV2.
 Apr 2020 LightToBurn
Nylee
Creeps
 Apr 2020 LightToBurn
Nylee
Catch me with the light
Cause I only play in the darkness
Creeping around with my
Claws out
 Apr 2020 LightToBurn
Natasha
my head spins, and I forget
nausea creeps in
before each sunset.

children age, and pictures grow old
speaking of stories
repeated, told.

empty heart, empty stomach
gasping void nocturne.

the past imprinted on my mind
like old lighter burns.

pain, joy and memories unfold
who I used to be seemed so simple
before my heart turned cold.
"Mariana in the Moated Grange"
(Shakespeare, Measure for Measure)

With blackest moss the flower-plots
Were thickly crusted, one and all:
The rusted nails fell from the knots
That held the pear to the gable-wall.
The broken sheds look'd sad and strange:
Unlifted was the clinking latch;
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch
Upon the lonely moated grange.
She only said, "My life is dreary,
He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!"

Her tears fell with the dews at even;
Her tears fell ere the dews were dried;
She could not look on the sweet heaven,
Either at morn or eventide.
After the flitting of the bats,
When thickest dark did trance the sky,
She drew her casement-curtain by,
And glanced athwart the glooming flats.
She only said, "The night is dreary,
He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!"

Upon the middle of the night,
Waking she heard the night-fowl crow:
The **** sung out an hour ere light:
From the dark fen the oxen's low
In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn,
Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn
About the lonely moated grange.
She only said, "The day is dreary,
He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!"

About a stone-cast from the wall
A sluice with blacken'd waters slept,
And o'er it many, round and small,
The cluster'd marish-mosses crept.
Hard by a poplar shook alway,
All silver-green with gnarled bark:
For leagues no other tree did mark
The level waste, the rounding gray.
She only said, "My life is dreary,
He cometh not," she said;
She said "I am aweary, aweary
I would that I were dead!"

And ever when the moon was low,
And the shrill winds were up and away,
In the white curtain, to and fro,
She saw the gusty shadow sway.
But when the moon was very low
And wild winds bound within their cell,
The shadow of the poplar fell
Upon her bed, across her brow.
She only said, "The night is dreary,
He cometh not," she said;
She said "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!"

All day within the dreamy house,
The doors upon their hinges creak'd;
The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse
Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd,
Or from the crevice peer'd about.
Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors
Old footsteps trod the upper floors,
Old voices called her from without.
She only said, "My life is dreary,
He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!"

The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,
The slow clock ticking, and the sound
Which to the wooing wind aloof
The poplar made, did all confound
Her sense; but most she loathed the hour
When the thick-moted sunbeam lay
Athwart the chambers, and the day
Was sloping toward his western bower.
Then said she, "I am very dreary,
She wept, "I am aweary, aweary,
Oh God, that I were dead!"
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