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How we never relent believing
     even in the clutches of doubt!
    
How we withold living
     -without the hues of dreaming  
     -and the nurturing arms of loving,
      both nursing suffering into healing!

How we move the quill to see more,
     and more to love what is essential in things,
     -even the things that fall and crumble
     amidst the ravenous roar and the rampant rumble!

How we defy the Frantic Fret of a hollering sky
     with a hued cry hovering over this raucous choir!

19/04/2025
Hirondelle
A dutiful reaction to Patty m on her 'Frantic', whose vibrant voice has ever been well carried above all tumult and thunder cajoling many fellow poets.

Inspired by Friedrich Nietzsche's Amor Fati: "I want to learn more and more to see as beautiful what is necessary in things; then I shall be one of those who makes things beautiful. Amor Fati: let that be my love henceforth! I do not want to wage war against what is ugly.”

The more we write, the more we learn about the hodgepodge ensemble and discover a voice within; then, the less we start despairing and the more we begin to love. Thus, we raise our voices above the cacophony.

How our ink strikes to and fro;
Above dark skies wielding light,
no one is alone!
Nat Lipstadt Apr 19
by any human interference
from sleep to sheet
they came unannounced,
uncontrolled, I, but the conveyance

claim not/seek not/ authorship
or thanks/how they came, who
is the suthor is unbeknownest
to me/yes, thay passed through
my body, and typing errors mine,
but you desire to say,
But You Authored Them!
I did, but did not, this is us,
what I struggle
to explain: when I
awoke they were
inside
           of me,
wholly formed,
having fallen from the
Leonard's Tower of Song

onto and through
the top of my head
coming to you presently,
after a good night moon rest.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 19
night/night
time/time
night overheats
                         wet awake, damp is the status:
mystery no more, familiarity brings unsurprise,
the machine issues environmental sounds,
cool air, deep cover, setup ~ perfect
wake up soaked/mystified/drizzled unhappy/awake to change/
meaning comes
                         /pieces of randome thoughts/movie trailer bite sized/

these are:
                sweating words/eager for realization/escape needy/impatiented
                by foible human/who needs sleep? is the unasked question...

dress for winter, may I? in May?????/!!!!!     /!\
                              ~change to summery
                                 "ACTIVE WEAR" at-tire<>
                                   skin expose<>  
                                     
  AM I NOT ACTIVE?
                              thus this oddity poem/product of sweat/
                              provides cooling panting/dog?
  am I a dog?
                              that would be nice!
                              sadly or nat~not, a human
                          o         verfilled / o        verflowing
                            tale telling from evrey pore/ Alcatraz                 escape/  recaptured/twisted  
                                                  d a m p
                             became a poem/d a m p is me
                             becoming/ reducing/emitting/inquiring/
                             enquiring/
                             aligned
will this be my last poem?

sweating with/from/AND
all the way over to............................................................Ant­icipation...
Avril 2025/18
300~330/am|AM
BAH HUMBUG
  Apr 18 Nat Lipstadt
Ahmed Gamel
I live and love as if reborn—
a soul unclenched, no longer torn.
The skies toast me with silver cheers,
a prayer answered through the years.

They come—those laughs, those quiet grins,
in giggles, bursts, and subtle spins.
Joy spills from me, a song unplanned,
like heaven kissed my throat by hand.

Love lives in me, unmasked, awake,
no echo now, no smile that’s fake.
This flight—unreal, yet somehow true—
feels like the stars are shining through.

So bless me once, then bless me more—
this heart has found an open door.
Alive at last, and every time,
my pulse recites a warmer rhyme.

And now—farewell to cries and drains,
the ghosts of sleepless, silent pains.
I’ve stitched my wounds with threads of grace,
and kissed the shadows from my face.

A fresh start waits with arms spread wide—
a softer path, a gentler tide.
Let love come near, with light that stays,
in hugs and hopes and golden days.

Watch me drift, a flame unchained,
laughing where the stars have rained.
The sky broke open just for me—
yes, life still burns—
but now, I burn to be.
This poem reflects the journey of self-renewal and embracing the freedom of life, shedding past struggles and opening up to love, joy, and authenticity. It’s about rebirth, empowerment, and the beauty of transformation. The idea of letting go of old pains and beginning anew runs throughout, celebrating the human spirit's ability to rise above and thrive.
  Apr 18 Nat Lipstadt
Kai
that hurt in your gut,
the one that starts in your diaphragm and coils up your lungs,
then clenches in your throat and salts your eyes
and when you swallow it,
it wraps down and squeezes your stomach
the one that jitters your nerves,
shakes your shoulders,
freezes your tongue,
and curls your spine
the one that crawls out in whimpers,
in whispers,
in wails
in words too honest

that hurt is not your enemy.
it is your heart’s voice
it says, “this isn’t fair”
it says, “i deserve better”
this one is as much a reminder to myself as it is something i want to express to others
  Apr 18 Nat Lipstadt
Kai
when you were born,
a shy summer snow,
they said:
“bear the burden of this world on your shoulders.”

to you,
a sauna in the snow,
they said:
“give us water. quench our thirst.”
and so you brought forth steam,
and gathered humid dews,
and sweat salt,
and wrung water into their maws.
and so they sweltered, and still—
they were thirsty.

you say:
“i bring no water. i quench no thirst. and thus i fail.”
i say:
“give me heat. give me humidity. give me heart.”
“give me whatever you want to give.”
and you do,
and from this heat i sweat,
and from this warmth i cry,
and aren’t my tears water?

to you,
a shy summer snow,
they said:
“give us water. quench our thirst.”
and so you melted,
and dissolved into the current,
lost into salted misery.

you were born not to bear burdens
but to love and be loved
to live, to laugh, to sweat, to cry,
and aren’t your tears water?
my snowstorm, my sauna
the salt i sweat for you
cry for you
is the sweetest nectar.
our modern post-capitalist society punishes people when they fail to do a level of work no one was ever born to do. (neurodivergent people tend to take the first fall here…)

i hate watching my loved ones blame themselves for failing. i hate seeing them think they’re not “good enough”. it’s the demand itself which should be blamed.
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