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  May 2022 cleann98
rem
hard to dream of life
when all I wished for is death

sweet darkness
stealing my breath away

can't make a picture of the future
I keep painting the past

if I stand in the rain will I wash away
can I evaporate

I could be a beautiful cloud

there's so much life
very little time

collecting the puzzle pieces
of myself
cleann98 May 2022
there's just something about
the stillness of these stones
that sings me to tears—
     today is august 5, 2026...
     today is august 5, 2026...

so screams the years of
layers of dust encrusting
the petrified earth; lonely,
rid of her supple footsteps
to graze and wipe it clean.

like the stagnant roots
that seem to have given up
creeping to grasp for any
foot to cling to or touch
i can only stay so still...
     knowing oh so well
     everything we touch
     turns only to soil.

i could act myself a fool
greeting barren outcroppings
only to the reply of my own voice
hoping that the once green grass
would once again bloom
to the bliss of my welcome—
     but i'd rather settle for silence...

instead of crackling leaves;
stepping, all i heard were
my shoes against pavements,
failing to muffle the cries
from underneath my feet.

*someday, somehow
i will make it so
these lands will know
soft rains once more—
something i wrote before my life just started shutting down~~ partially inspired by he short story 'there will come soft rains' by ray bradbury (hence the august 5, 2026 thing) and mostly just from he rush of feelings i had imagining how my now abandoned childhood home (where the ashes of my mom, dad, grandpa, and grandma are) back in the province looks like when i would eventually return there...

this poem means a lot more now after visiting there last month for the first time in two years since the pandemic began and yeah ._.
cleann98 May 2022
light footsteps as i was taught...

i have learned to balance my legs
like the precise swinging
      and swaying
of a well maintained metronome

in fact, they could very well move
on their own if i asked them to.

picking up the stars at the tip of my fingers,
connecting the fainting lights at the black
until i could form something
good enough to at least imagine it real

        or at least to make a good story about.

breathing in intervals
as the skies would allow
feet planted firmly
solid, stuck on the ground
i can only dance for now...

under the loudly singing
roaring sea of starlight
the half moon reaching out
to call me back home
i can only extend my arms
to sign a silent promise

here in the dark prison of gravity
the blackness of twilight taunts me
soon o' little skywalker

the day will again come
and hide my moonlight
and yet all i can do is
wait watch and practise--

**i can fly higher than this
thank you for reading!
i'm still in a slump ;-; maybe i'll start posting old poems i haven't put here yet just as buffer but i do want to be active in poetry again since i'll be composing songs again too ._.

btw do you think this poem is optimistic or pessimistic?
  May 2022 cleann98
Krista DelleFemine
Everyone is shining
Coming out with greats and
Memorables
Days like today
No rhyme or reason
To days when poetry flows
So easily
One more oxymoron
We don’t know we see
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