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 Nov 2021
Patricia Policarpio
i rise with the sun
green plants around, clear skies above
a plan to bloom today, but then a fog surrounds
different hues blooming around, i feel dull
why is there a dark cloud above?

flowers standing tall around, im drowning in a muddy puddle beneath
the sky poured it's tears on me, it weighed me down
it made me dry, i cant feel the ground
why am i left behind?

as if it's the end of the world
the sun begins to set, it's leaving me in the dark
a plan to bloom today, swallowed by the night
i am scared, i cant see the path ahead
why am i still here?

the stars gently smiled
as the moon softly replied,
"some flowers only bloom at night"

20211311 (inspired by Hwasa's LMM)
if anyone have any suggestions or insights for this poem, feel free to comment down 😉
 Jul 2021
Valsa George
as a soft breeze,
a hushed whisper,
a cool mist,
you came quietly
and slipped
into my thoughts

I skimmed through the sunlit
alley of a dream world
and whirled in an uneasy sensuality.

the embryo of love
in me
has matured into a full grown fetus
kicking at the crust of my womb
the tremor
of a
 Apr 2021
Valsa George
Some days blend well
with smiles and songs
and the passion of love
leaving swishing whirlpools inside

Some days settle down
as dregs in a teacup
the bitter dross
sticking to the froth around the edge
and the residue coming to the surface
as if constantly stirred

Some days, the mind’s slits open
and fancies sluice down
like a dam with shutters removed
or like birds fleeing away from a cage

then hands quiver and ink spills

Some days, I feel so alone
stretching me on the rack of pain
then I shut myself from the outside world
like a periwinkle withdrawn to its shell
hoping nothing,
sinking under dead weight
unable to feel if dead or alive!
 Apr 2021
Valsa George
he panted heavily
muscles twitching in his naked body
running frenzied, without looking back,
he shouted, “He is after me.... my life”
a rip roaring cry....!

the traffic halted
pedestrians stopped
people from shops came out
women through curtained windows peeped
children stopped their play

“so drunk”.... a man murmured
“A crack”.... someone shouted
“coming right after an ****”
sneered, an oldie...
“pity on him...! Take him to an asylum”
one gentleman suggested.
he needs help, majority opined
‘nab this plague’, the moral police quipped

what is he running from...?

an Assailant....?
corona virus....?
his own phantom...?
two sane men staying,
at a corner wondered.
they had masks on their face

“must be a health worker”..!
one of them said...
“yes, the subtle nuances of an agonized mind”
the other agreed!

as the scene on the road,
had grown into a high voltage drama,
dissensions grew and multiplied!
 Aug 2020
Druzzayne Rika
I was a mystery
   To you

But I was a broken piece
   A tired soul
     feeling unease

I closed doors
built fences around my home

all I wanted was control
  Of the car
   My life was driving

and wasn't it nice
      every other sunsets
   a shadow beneath the surface
we collided

a disruption
    my routine gone
   and back to drama

It was uncontrollable
  the fifth gear
    I am scared

The wind flying my hair
    car radio, top volume
it was going too fast

   It was beyond
me, my white fences disappeared
and my living room couch is occupied
        Why cannot I stop this mess

Soon it will be too late
   A repeat of fate
       Or maybe this is not a mistake
 Jul 2020
Druzzayne Rika
It is not simple
It cannot be given
So simply
Without the intent
The mind won't rest
Till the end
But forgiveness
Gives the freedom
To move on.

Is freeing,
It is the peace,
It is so much more.
It is a step taken
To move ahead,
Leave behind
The history
In the past.

It is the best gift
Given and received,
It can be the beginning,
it is the end of bitterness.
It is just like a necessity
To be a human
Who makes mistakes
live with harmony.

I give to thee free
To free me from the chains
Of the ill thoughts
I conceive in head
time to time, again and again
To not loathe the trust
I placed in you.

It is a process
To forgive myself
As I forgive you,
I give myself another chance
To believe the best
In you and in me.

Let's mend it.
 Jun 2020
Carlo C Gomez
captured children,
locked in
vending machines,
like princes in the tower.

Swiping the barcode
imprinted upon their foreheads,
placing them in playpens
--free range, of course--
and listening to the stories
that caused them
in this precise order,

To empty their lungs,
to rage against the machine
that first boiled blood
into the deflated veins
of their youthful tendencies.

Birthing a furlough,
for when
the wild
and profane
wish for scream time:

babes in the wood,
before figureheads to die for.
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