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Lily Mar 2018
Conversations overlapping.
Suitcase wheels rolling.
Babies sobbing.
Mothers calling.
Headphones blaring.
People scurrying.
PA system whispering.
Starbucks bustling.
Airplanes taking off and landing.
And in the middle of everything,
The lady in black.
Sitting motionless, hands grasping her
Black umbrella, her sleek black dress
Accentuating her young body,
And whilst a black veil covers her face,
Her tears shine through, reflecting
From the bright lights of the airport.
When you look closer,
Her slim body trembles with concealed sobs,
And her calm facade is broken
With closer inspection,
Broken inside from something undetectable from the outside.
The lady in black.
We have all been her.
Amanda Mar 2018
I have awakened
a deep, drawing wanderlust
that yearns to break free.
mk Mar 2018
planes breathe
and i find myself
sinking into the
lounge chairs in
waiting rooms
traveling has always
been more about
finding home than
coming home and
at the end of the day
i lay my remains
at the feet of a rootless
tree and flowers
sprout around me

this greek yoghurt parfait
was too expensive
and the bottled water
is probably contaminated
**** airports.
i've been on a plane twelve times in six months -
Nick Stiltner Feb 2018
The melancholy eyes of departing,
The lingering taste of love’s last kiss.
To the skies I've been sentenced and
In the soil you've been left, softly sprouting.

Oh, what I would do, to spread my roots
There next to you.
Our petals caress with love unstressed
And our leaves would collect the morning dew.

But I’ve been plucked,
Snatched in the claws of the bird!
Cast to flight, cursed to explore
A life without you that must be endured.

Upwards dragged but eyes cast down,
Drinking in the sights of her last frown.
The wind pulls me clean, and I see
The last of that morning's dew
Falling with a shimmering gleam.
Josh Nov 2017
"Dreams are foreign and uncomfortable. The common dreamworld never quite mimics life in its truest form."

I flew over snowy mountain peaks on my way to Amsterdam, dreaming of existing in my truest form. My layover in Reykjavik was only three hours long, & I was traveling alone. Three hours is just enough time to worry about getting lost & I pondered what it would be like to let go.

My trip would take me to Amsterdam, then London. I would find myself in Amsterdam again by day 10. I chose to ignore the loneliness by drinking a pint of Belgian beer in a bar that was much too small and enveloped in tobacco smoke.

On my way to the bathroom I spotted a cat prowling the floor like he was hunting for a bird. He was out of place, yet here he was in his truest form. Forever hunting for a bird that was nowhere to be found.
Josh Sep 2017
I'm on the train again.
Stopped at Manchester Airport
I am presented with an excellent opportunity to check out a flight attendant standing by the doors.
Her uniform is block red.
Of mice and men, it's the boys
Who ogle, cats soon to be fed.
And I did always think there was something sinister about cats
Their sly eyes and how they yawn
How they pretend to sleep long past dawn but have been slinking and thinking and stinking and
Hunting
The blood of mice
and men reward their pet's **** with a stroke of their ego by their ego.
"It's human nature" to hunt for rich, red reward you say
"It's part of being a man"
I'll say human nature can,
No, should, change,
And I avert my gaze with shame.
Read it to the end or you'll think I'm a pompous *******, and if you read it to the end and still think I'm a pompous ******* then I probably am
Janine Jacobs Jul 2017
i hate layovers, the long stops
the nothingness of the in betweens
suffocating of boredom
surrounded by strangers
all anxiously waiting

there is a universal oneness here
regardless of race, religion or age
something which everyone endures
a temporary pause in time
where reflection is forced upon us

reminiscing of what we bid farewell to
and the hope, love, fear or excitement
awaiting us at our next stop
Layover at Istanbul after my Europe trip. Waited four hours for my next flight home to Cape Town, SA. Wrote this to pass the time
Srirachasauce May 2017
"Look into the camera,"
and bring your eyes nowhere else,
not behind to where the lady stands,
holding an eight-year-old's hand.

"Place your forefinger on the sensor,"
and don't dare move it closer
to your wet eyes, for the man
with the ten-year-old might see
you shudder.

The arrow always points forward,
so take your steps fast and sure.
Ignore the shouts, shove away the feels,
smile and wave your way to
DEPARTURE.
There is a window-wall that separates the passport checkpoint area (and the terminals) from the rest of the airport in Bangkok. Loved ones often lounge by this see-through wall, clinging onto their last chance to say goodbye.
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