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Zywa 3d
I cannot hear you,

only the waves, wind sometimes --

but nowhere your voice.
Documentary "Louder! So I can hear you" (2022, Laura Bokhoven)

Collection "Stall"
Jeremy Betts May 23
Something doesn't feel right, could be that my head isn't ******* on tight
Could be that, try as I might, the absence of light shrouds the line between wrong and right
Hiding in plane sight but fright often forces the eyes closed, a blind plight
Never found the passion to ignite
Didn't think it possible to gaslight ones self outta spite
Never shined bright enough to conquer or at the very least scatter this proverbial night
Narrow vision and bad eyesight was my faley alright
Hit and fell through my rock bottom with the force of a meteorite
Bobbed instead of weaved and lost the fight, but not contrite
Many issues I'd like to extradite back to their day of origin, with new insight I'd like a full rewrite

My Dear Poet May 1
In your dreams
I draped down the curtains of my mind
and in your thoughts I hung high
the light of the morning sun
before you breathe
your last sleep of night
remember my shadow
by the window of your heart
hold me close
before our lives whisper passed
Silver Hawk Jan 29
I want to snore
softly into the pillow
toss and turn a few times
wrapping myself tightly with my arms

I want to snuggle
under the weight of the blanket
sheltered from the cold rain
beating the streets outside

I don't want to have that peeing dream
filled with relief, warmth and regret
Neither do I want to share the bed
with anyone
not today, not this time.

I prefer to be stuck in the dream
where the twins are constantly giggling,
and running after each other,
their big sister, having her hair undone by her mum.
And I, looking in from the doorway
always present in their daily lives.
Zywa Jan 7
People celebrate

the astronauts on the moon --

who'd like to join in.
Novel "jl." ("recently" - the title also refers to Juno Linnaarts, 2016, Anjet Daanje), chapter July 21st, 1969

Collection "No wonder"
Zywa Sep 2023
The empty chair may

not be my father's chair, but --

I do miss him now.
Song "Lege stoelen" ("Empty chairs", 2023, Wende Snijders)

Collection "VacantVoid"
voodoo Sep 2023
I never thought about love when I thought about home. never felt the pulse of it.

the sun kisses my side of the planet but never touches my skin. I try to twist the knife inside me,

write lines that gut and bleed

but not every lived moment draws pain and demands witness. not every morning

clothes itself in deep indigo and creeps in on lithe legs to sit on my chest. my breath

no longer entwines with yours — you with your feet on the ground,

rhymes and rhythms are all the same to you. you move like you know you belong,

like the very air around you

rushes to meet your limbs. and yours met mine with a reverberating heartbeat.

I tell you I never think about love when I think about home, but

to me there is no difference between going home and rushing across the state to you.

and when they start to pull apart, both moving in opposing orbits

your corner of the planet a stranger to my house,

I’ll call you, listen to your voice wax poetic about new love,

and in the silence that follows I’ll ask you,

“Is it cold there, too?”
Anais Vionet Jul 2023
If my days were fanned out in front of me,
like a magician's playing cards,
I couldn’t pick one, just one, any one
that was better for your absence.
jude rogers Mar 2023
A wanderer is here
he stays for a visit
his kindness is clear
he roams bringing good will.

But linger he shan't
his time here is quite scant
and remember you can't
what he's done for you now.

But, aye, he's yet gone
hear his troubles till dawn
take his word into notion
set new good things in motion.

Cherish these times
his presence is sure
a good indicator
of things in the future.

Wait for brand new beginnings
lest you forget these sweet things
these travelers say to make
memories, newly fleeting.

Said scant time is finished
so fast, like deep sleep
so filled, practically brimming
with concepts for morrow.

Let his wisdom surely guide you
put your old things behind you,
'tis an age of new beginnings,
and a wanderer is here.
This can serve as more than one metaphor to you, which was my intent. I don't write poetry a lot but it is nice to be able to express parts of the world in ways such as this.
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