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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?”
tumbledry Aug 2023
The world suddenly feels empty.
Like your presence has disappeared.
I’m guessing this was the night
You took me out of your chest.
Slept on my side of the bed.
Changed the way I set up the room
Erased my from your mind
Painted me as the one who did the crime.
Or maybe it is just me.
Who’s finally accepted the loss of you.
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.
Zywa Jan 2023
My darling is gone
the earth pushes tidal
tears up through the sand

sails in the east
round me, signs
upon them, I walk

for miles
to spartina and seepweed
and fro to the beacon

build a stone tower there
break stone for stone
read word for word, listen

and build writing and
singing sentence for sentence
our love again
Collection "Foghorn"
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