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Salmabanu Hatim Jul 2018
She was beautiful,
The moon scowled at her beauty,
The Sun shied away from her,
The stars flickered with jealousy.
Nothing mattered to her,
She was complicated,
Her mind was a tangled mess of thoughts.
All I wanted was to sit beside her,
Gently untie the knots  in her neurones,
Connect to the correct ends of the
dendrites,
Let her talk,
Spill out her secrets and frustrations
See her awaken,
Hold her tight and never let her go.
Ethan Moon  Feb 2016
Untitled
Ethan Moon Feb 2016
"That the Everlasting had not fixed His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!"

. . .

"Vanity of vanities," says the Preacher. "All is vanity!"*

. . .

I've been thinking too much. Help me.

. . .

What am I without words?
Others's words?
Copy and paste, copy and paste, copy and--
Pastel my mind with your philosophies,
For I am made of mirror neurones, feeling
What is not mine,
Empty with empathy.
I don't deserve your grief,
And I can't say I'm worth your pound of flesh.
Your stars are my pixels,
Your prison is my escape.
I wear your truth like veil--a lie.
Tear me in half,
Crack the cornerstone,
Break my mind palace; my temple.
Write on my heart, my mind, again.
Write these words
Hamlet, Ecclesiastes, Twenty One Pilots.
victoria Oct 2017
My father
Sick of motor neurones
And holes in the aorta
Has made a decision
Full of heartache and pain
I support
I understand
But the darkness has returned

He has started the journey
The process has begun
I will be by his side
I will hold his hand
I will fight back my tears
My aching heart will stay hidden
But the darkness will come too

I must be brave
For him I must stay strong
He will be frightened
He won't know what will happen
After he has left his body
Does he still believe in God
I'm not sure
I should ask him
I wonder if darkness has got him too.
I guess a lot of poetry will come from me during this heartbreaking time that lies ahead....
archana  Jun 2017
scintilla
archana Jun 2017
scintilla - a tiny brilliant flash or spark; a small thing; a barely- visible trace.

a beating of a heart,
euphoria,
a scintilla.

a firework of neurones
almost a burst of panic
a scintilla.

a brush of the lip,
flutterings in the abdomen,
a scintilla.

a sharp intake of breath
inflation of lungs
a scintilla.

a soft goodbye
a shadow of gloom
a scintilla.

a crack in the heart,
a browned vignette,
a scintilla.

a disappearance,
happiness then, despondency now
a scintilla

a faded spark,
the lost scent of vanilla,
a scintilla.
a once scintillated sensation, now a mere vibration. hearts can break over the years, or sometimes in a matter of seconds.
Lexander J Aug 2015
You're pretty and you know it
using those glassy eyes to tame -
my heart's suckered 'n you know it,
post-*** love purely (surely?) to blame

my mind melts as I grow weak at the knees
your gaze flitting from sultry to predatory -
blood gushes, adrenalin flushes
sweat dripping upon my skin lust-crazy, expectedly

oh I'll burn these nervy butterflies
with this blistering searing fury,
argh, stop this Pretence girl
'cause it's just starting to bore me -

Mind Control to Inner Soul;
"what's your status?"

Inner Soul to Mind Control;
"help! The guts are dead and the heart is fractured!!!"


my body slowly dying, polluted sick
with the caustic affection you instil
"WARNING; cytoplasmic deterioration imminent -
extreme ******-***** overkill!"


for now I know I must give up the chase
the Neurones have received a final transmission (oh please no, it can't be);

"This is .. Inner Soul to Mind Control..
we're all so tired.. so tired .. so .. sleepy - - -"


*CLICK
'Ain Syuqriah  Dec 2013
you
'Ain Syuqriah Dec 2013
you
I could write you poems with flowery language and fancy words
Or I could write you a song
But no amount of words can possibly describe how I feel about you
It's really vague and I'm very unsure
And a spark can turn into a flame which would most probably end in a catastrophe
That is why I choose to ignore the electrical signals transmitting in my neurones
I choose to ignore the feelings you're making me feel
Zywa Sep 2023
Notre-Dame, she is quite old: although she may
bury Paris, which has witnessed her birth, one day
But in thousand years or more, Time will make recoil
her heavy body, like a wolf does with a bull
and twist each iron axon, each of her neurones
to gnaw alas, with its blunt tooth, her bones of stones!

Many men will overflow the island in the Seine
to contemplate the barren ruin, the last remains
dreamers, re-reading what Victor Hugo has seen ahead:
- Then they'll think they see the old basilica
as it was, mighty and magnificent, a Gloria
rising up before them like the shadow of a dead!
Poem "Notre-Dame de Paris" (1832, Gérard de Nerval, collection "Odelettes", 1834/1853)

Novel "Notre-Dame de Paris" (1831, Victor Hugo)

Translation contest "The Netherlands translates" (2023)

Collection "Reaching out"
Helen Oct 2015
I left you
seven hundred miles ago
with a note that read,

I'm done with this ****

you should have known

when you woke up upon sheets
that were soaked with our final weeks, and you realised, that you woke alone, it wasn't just a joke,
that one thing should have made you know,

seven hundred miles later,
your bare *** is alone...

you should have known

and now I'm down the highway
seven hundred miles away
from you
checking out the sunset
wondering if you
see it
as blue as I do
are you seeing the splintering
and fracturing of the lightening
that splits between clouds
of such a perfect grey?

Do you even remember that day?

I do!

you should have known

how the ventricles in your heart
clip clop at such a slow pace
how the neurones that fire
within your brain
stitch together memories
so laconically

you should have known

that seven hundred miles
down the road
I was going to be more open
More free to be me
Less inclined to practice
this inhumanly farce

Seven hundred miles ago

You should have known

*It was never going to last
Commuter Poet Dec 2015
Thick tarry black matter
Clogs my neurones
Blocking the flow

Fragments of metal
Infiltrate my joints
And prevent me
From dancing

Desperate thoughts rise
Surfacing like weighty angels
Shouting
Impossible!
Impossible!
Impossible!

I never knew
That it could be so difficult

I never expected
To experience days like this

And yet

There has been joy

Companionship

Laughter
Closeness

Sunlight
And

Music
Of such purity

Only devils
Would try to disrupt

Days like these
Written 9th December 2015

— The End —