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gayatri May 6
I've heard many poets wish for a grand death.
One where the waves of the sea
knock the living breath from their pipes.
Or where a hurricane
sweeps them off their feet.

Maybe I'm a little different
from other poets.

It isn't the chaos of the earth that calls me.
It has always been the inviting quiet,
and her sultry eyes
beckoning arms
and sweet lies.

Because I often find myself thinking
about how grand it would be
to fall asleep peacefully
in a bed in a sunny meadow
no eager tics or mosquitos
preying on me.

Maybe with a few flower buds
to bloom and greet me when I wake up.
gayatri Oct 2020
bat an eye,
coffee paradise,
it's such a sorrow
when your pour yourself
out, it hurts
the cup
and the saucer.
gayatri Jul 2020
silence is complicity
write some words
hope it reaches the community
our opinions met
with such hostility

**** the verse

there's a dictator
running our democracy.
arrest the killers of Breonna Taylor.
we will be heard.
gayatri Jul 2020
screaming and shouting
the cries of stories untold
being drowned out
**** 12. acab. blm.
firework phenomena in NY.
gayatri Jun 2020
i check every message
hoping that it's you
it never is
but i still look
when my phone turns blue.
gayatri May 2020
hello again,
old old friend.
i missed you.
gayatri May 2020
it is spring now.
i don't really know which of the following prompted my acknowledgement of the fact.

it might have been the warmth of the ground beneath my feet,
when I walked on to the patio this morning,
and the change of the air from harsh slaps,
to gentle breeze.

or maybe the dandelions showing their happy yellow faces.

perhaps even the flip of the calendar,
to the month of may yesterday.
april distance brings may existence.
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