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Like an old lover,
I press my lips on the mouthpiece,
And I blow.
I blow until my lungs are about give out.
I blow until the beads of stardust twinkle.
The air tastes like rust.
Still, I play.
I may not have learned all the notes
On this blue saxophone,
But still, I play what sounds good to me.
The air rolls over me like a dream
One I didn’t have the good sense to
stay asleep and finish.

The red dust longs
For thicker air,
Burning with everything that it knows
The taste of its name,
The hunger of its touch,
The pull of something stronger
Than us both.
If silence comes from a mouth,
It is still felt, regardless of whether
It has arms.
Mars, a girl that history got wrong,
wisps through the red dust.
Whether I stay here on Mars,
Return to Earth, or go somewhere different,
You never forget the way breath
Feels against your skin.
Never.

I continue to press my lips on
The mouthpiece,
I blow until my lungs are about give out.
I play what sounds good to me,
Whether it’s old or new.
Love is still love,
No matter how cold it gets
Valentin Eni Nov 24
We are strangers, strangers we remain,
From distant worlds, apart we came.
You call to me, I call to you,
But silence answers, cutting through.

You don’t know me, I don’t know you,
Our thoughts diverge like morning dew.
Alive we are, yet still we stare,
As if from graves, from shadows there.

I’m not your loss, nor you are mine,
Like clouds, we drift through endless time.
Wherever I go, wherever you’ll be,
We’re at the edges, lost at sea.

Yet yesterday felt near and bright—
You held my hand; your voice was light.
When love was endless, pure, and true,
And I was me, and you were you.

When whispers spoke of tender care,
And hearts embraced in love’s repair.
When vows were shared, no lies between,
And strangers we had never been.

I
(Alternative translation)
STRANGERS

We are strangers, strangers through,
From worlds apart, both old and new.
I call to you, you call to me,
Yet silence falls like waves at sea.

You do not know me, nor I know you,
Our thoughts like paths that never grew.
Alive we stand, yet lost we seem,
As if we lived within a dream.

I do not miss you, nor you miss me,
Two fleeting clouds the wind sets free.
Where you may go, where I may roam,
We’re at the edges, far from home.

But yesterday, it feels so near,
I held your hand, your voice sincere.
When love was boundless, bold, and true,
And I was me, and you were you.

When whispers shared what hearts could feel,
And hands embraced with love so real.
When we were one, no space between,
And strangers we had never been.

II
(Literal translation)
STRANGERS

We are strangers, strangers we remain,
From different worlds we come.
When you call me, when I call you,
We cannot hear, we cannot hear.

You do not know me, I do not know you,
I have one thought, and you another.
You are alive, and I am alive,
But we look at each other as if from graves.

I don’t miss you; you won’t miss me,
We are two clouds driven by the wind.
Wherever I am, wherever you are,
We are at the edges of the earth.

But, it seems, yesterday there was a day,
You remember it; I remember it, too,
When we could not stop loving each other,
Believing we would love forever.

When I whispered how dear you were,
And we held each other’s hands with love,
When you told me that you loved me,
And we were not strangers at all.

III
(Original poem, Romanian)
STRĂINI

Suntem străini, străini suntem,
Din diferite lumi venim.
Când tu mă chemi, când eu te chem
Nu ne-auzim, nu ne-auzim.

Tu nu mă ştii, eu nu te ştiu,
Un gând am eu şi tu alt gând.
Eşti vie tu şi eu sunt viu,
Dar ne privim ca din mormânt.

Eu nu-ţi lipsesc, tu nu-mi lipseşti,
Suntem doi nori mânaţi de vânt.
Oriunde-aş fi, oriunde eşti,
Suntem la margini de pământ.

Dar, parcă ieri, a fost o zi,
Ţii minte tu, ţin minte eu,
Când nu-ncetam a ne iubi,
Crezînd că ne-om iubi mereu.

Când îţi şopteam ce dragă-mi eşti
Şi ne strângeam cu drag de mâini,
Când îmi spuneai că mă iubeşti
Şi nu eram deloc străini.
The poem explores alienation, distance, and nostalgia for lost intimacy. It reflects on the transformation of a once-deep connection into estrangement, showing how love and familiarity can dissolve over time, leaving behind a haunting sense of separation.

The poem reflects on the fragility of human relationships and the pain of estrangement. It conveys how love, once profound and unbreakable, can fade into distance and disconnection. Yet, the poem also suggests that such painful memories hold a certain beauty, offering a glimpse into moments of genuine connection.

“Strangers” is a poignant meditation on love, loss, and the transformation of intimacy into alienation. Its images and rhythmic structure guide the reader through a journey of longing and reflection, making it deeply personal and universally relatable. The poem leaves an emotional impact, inviting readers to consider their experiences of connection and distance.
David Hilburn Oct 12
Walk for it...
Ideal's for sojourn's deed
A promised jewel for your wit
Spare to my eye, wishes will feed...

Mercy, to a quaint dance
Might a problem sit?
I will still kind, of a shared defense
Misery, is remembering when I meant...

Simplicity's swallow...
Of verisimilitude to conceive
All's of a decision, here to hallow
Risks or retinue, waiting is ours to believe

A drive for impression...
Is salt the divine?
A shame has tendered, a care's lesson
A quieter question, that will share haves marital shine?

Profession of a charisma's flower:
Shall we compare ourselves
To awe or wisdom, known a charity for my sighing's lover
That has a voice that gave merit, my name, for what delves...
SomeOneElse Mar 30
I don't want to be
where I'm not wanted but I
WANT TO BE WANTED
A constant theme in my life
Francie Lynch Nov 2023
I've been exposed.
Many have witnessed me,
And more have noticed it.
The ones I taught to use a spoon,
Tie a lace, ride a bike,
Arise from a fall.
Those whom I've instructed
On when to listen,
When to question.
They've acquiesed to the knowledge.

The colleagues I once cornered with
In serious situations;
When our decisions effected others' paths;
Those who recognized my signature.
They've acquiesed to the knowledge.

I meet less often with friends.
I ask for less favours, and return fewer.
I don't stand holding meaningful conversations,
Sipping strong drinks.
I wear a cap indoors sometimes  (I once condemned this).
But, here you have it.
They've acquiesed.

I'm on my own now,
Hoping my memories are real and are mine,
And my ideas are new and genuine
(I change my mind a lot).
I seldom check the weather;
I've cancelled my cable (and this is a milestone).

I've enroled in a new world order.
Ask anyone you can find around here.
I no longer run the world.
Anais Vionet Oct 2023
Thrice about the cauldron go
and answer me, if it be known.

Untie the words and give them form,
dissect the ingredients of ******’s charm.

A new tradition has traction gained,
a tradition of alienated masculine pain.

Where insults demand their due in blood,
in schools, stores and quiet neighborhoods.

"A 'sociopathic perpetrator'..
we will ghost him  forever"


But what is this  thing
  she feels..

Why is the picture  painted
so very  different
   from  the  one
   she now  remembers?

"We will help her to forget."
            .      .      .


The saving of one's soul
from that which would steal
is not done  in violence
   (Though it still   feels
   that it should be)

It is done in patience,
and in reminding one
of who it is they truly are.

     Tell me,  world
     of who you think
     a father  should be

And watch  me laugh
my mother-*******  *** off.
Tell me all about it,  world.


  And I will show you all
      what truly saves.

"When you came  in
I could breathe again."
~Young M
https://youtu.be/iZNFKxeYZPA

for my beautiful-hearted
little Yeepers❤
J Nov 2022
Silence
Silence
anything but this

Give me hatred
give me violence
give me anything but

I can hear a pin drop
but it will
never hit the floor

your lips
forever sealed
and the truth won't save me

silence
silence
anything but this

give me hatred
give me violence
anything but this

they're all falling
like shards along my path
in the quiet

give me something

anything but this
11/13/2022
Carlo C Gomez Jul 2022
What on Earth
took you? Do we dare land?

A lark of descension. An aborted beginning.
Moon trills.

Captain is dead
at the controls.
Mother gives birth in the airlock.

Trouble in the passageways.
A struggle to name it.
A drink before eclipse.
All that's wrong with the world
sounds like harmonium in the (wishing) well.

First flight over Hölderlin's Archipelago,
creating new and stranger versions
in the sandclouds.
So this is
Tharsis Rise?
Life without a trace.

Non-terrestrial Martian field.
Halcyon flowering seas. A rock with no trees,
no urban hopes.

Yet, the whole universe inside
wants to be touched.
I love you in zero gravity,
pushing tender buttons.
*** as solution.
Moon trills.

A kiss of atmosphere.
This alien womb.
Those android embargoes.
Our children are born echoes of astronauts.
Lunar schedules
their first words.

There's a lightspeed sensibility
to this type of marriage and parenting:
no leaving the hub,
no exit procedure.

The Sol they sing
is a harm hymn,
moon trills,
subject to the ladder and the weight of breath
this outside Earth.

But I love you in the veil of a twilight moon.

We're monuments
burned into moments.
Moments without a beyond.
Farah Taskin Nov 2021
I feel alone inside
a stream of people
my presence
is merely
insignificant
my existence
doesn't
really
matter
I deeply
realize
the cruelty
of the reality
I feel a sudden dart of anguish
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