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Gabriel Sim Nov 2018
Here is where we watched the lunar rise and you told me
Here is the moon. And there is Mars. And beyond?
Here is where we watched the stars and I pointed out
Here is Orion’s belt. And there is Ursa Major. And there is a satellite.
Here is where we scanned the pitch-black presuming I would be your satellite.
Here is the orbit that the ancients used to predict the future. But I don’t know.
Here is where I looked at you like a supernova. Bright? Wondrous? Dying.
Here is where I awoke to realise my feet were soaked because the moon was so high up.
Here is where I turned to see your face, pale, eclipsed by your wig.
Here is where I look back to see one set of footprints and another set of tire-tracks.
Here is where I can always swing back in an orbit to find you again.
A H J Nov 2017
Tell me, how do I drown my sorrows?
It is riding on a huge tidal waves,
and it brought along tsunami and hurricane.

Tell me, how do I chase my sadness away?
It screams into me, agonizing over every part of my memory,
and it haunts and possess me on every change it gets.

Tell me, please tell me how do I stop these sentiments?
It overcomes all of my emotions, now I feel numb
and it causes me to doubt each of my happiness, telling me they never existed in the first place.

Tell me, tell me how do I kick away this despondence,
how do I stop my negativity?
how do I stop questioning my positivity
how do I stop these mad screaming thoughts in my mind!?

Tell me,
but I can't even convey these messages to you.
wendee mcmoon Nov 2017
I try to dance in the rain
I try to sing through the night
I try to light up the darkness, but I can't even find a match.

I try to bring peace and tranqility
I try to make those important to me just as happy
I try to sleep, but find I can't even close my eyes.

I try to use my imagination
I try to dream vividly
I try to soar above the clouds, but I can't even find my wings.

I try to be supportive
I try so hard to love you
I try to help you, but I can't even help myself.
An anaphora I wrote for my Intro to Creative Writing class.
Homunculus Jul 2016
If I start to write a poem, will I finish it this time
Or will I give up midway through, because there aren't enough rhymes
In this old dreadful, awful language born of brutal feudal swine
Wearing wigs and pantaloons, and saying words like 'thee' and 'thine'?

If I have a hazy thought, will I succeed in making clear,
That murky bit of intuition felt, or will it disappear,
The minute I put ink to paper and begin to toy around
With all the scattered bits of insight that implicitly abound?

If I find myself inspired all the sudden by a muse,
Will she hastily retire before I can spread the news
Of all her wondrous gifts to me, that I so luckily did capture
In a transcendental state of exaltation, joy, and rapture?

If I have a vivid vision, flowing freer than the stream
Of a river, clear as crystal, and as dazzling as a dream
Will my will be of such power that I'll succeed to convey
It, or just fall flat in defeat and then retreat into dismay?

If I see sumptuous fruits that hang atop the mighty tree
That's down the road of human intellect and creativity
Will my reach extend sufficiently to gather them and bring
Them back into...into... oh, **** it! I can't think of anything.

                                                (╯°□°)­╯︵ ┻━┻
Har har har
Homunculus Apr 2016
The process of becoming other than,
  the shedding of the old by way of time
  the hands upon the clock traverse their span,
  the ever fleeting moment reigns, sublime.

The emptiness of all objective forms,
  the rushing river, never stepped in twice,
  the reconfiguration of all norms,
  the virtues of lost ages seen as vice,

The elements converge and then react,
  the caterpillars weave themselves cocoons,
  the world amends its stock of gathered facts,
  the moths emerge, in flight to greet the moon,
   The firmament, destroyed and rearranged,
     the universal essence, found in change.
I'm actually beginning to enjoy writing these.
ashlynn Apr 2015
I was always one for honesty.
Never a lie slipped from my lips,
No matter the consequences
In which I was sometimes left wounded and
Bleeding onto the white tile.
I know that with each blow I grow continuously weaker,
As a feather is reduced to nothing after being in a heavy downpour.
Was it yesterday that I reverted the pain onto you?
My newfound truths serve me only one purpose:
The power of the lie.
The truth leaves you lying on the floor in a beg for mercy.
No one cares for the truth.
I think of the honest;
The ones crippled from their endeavors;
The ones ****** to the crack of the whip.
What do they need?
More than a lesson,
They simply do not learn.
The feel neither the force of the blow
Nor the blood escaping from their very being.
How I wish them to see!
May the truth be washed by the lies.
May they see the light and grow.
May they gain happiness at the hand of their unconventional success.
May the rain not drown them, but clean them.
May they be released from the bloodbath.
May they open their eyes and see!
this was an experimental piece used for an assignment in my creative writing class, but I developed a strong feeling for it.
Homunculus Jan 2015
**** the religion,
**** the division,
**** the crony capitalism,
**** the drug war,
**** the shady cops, and
**** all the prisons,
**** the suits,
**** the boots,
**** the watches,
**** the rings, and for that matter,
**** the foolish pursuit of material things,
**** monopolies on property
**** this country's fake democracy,
**** the corporate aristocracy, and
**** the leaders' proud hypocrisy
**** the layered social classes,
**** the non-apportioned taxes,
**** the cars that run on gas, its 2015, aren't we past this?
**** mortgage debt,
**** student loans, and
**** the tanks, and
**** the drones
**** Wall Street,
**** stocks and bonds
**** the wars and
**** the bombs, and
**** indoctrination,
**** the public education, and
**** the institutional racism,
**** my mind for always racing, and
**** the American Dream, the one that's sold in magazines, and
**** me having to say **** a bunch, so I can vent some steam, but
Is this the best that we can do? I look around, it can't be true, but
If the answer to that question's 'yes,' I'll kindly say:

Timothy Stout Jan 2015
Happiness is key
It's not purchased at a fee
What makes you happy-- I dare ask
Is it the way the water shimmers like glass
Or the sunrise on a summer morning
Or in what others find boring

Is it in the writings of love
Or in the purest dove
Or in a hard days work
Or in the food on a fork
Or the touch of your lover's hand
Or in the symphony of your favourite band

Is it the way she looks in the pale moonlight
Or in the way for her you'd fight
Or in the way she looks into your eyes
Or with her, time flies
Or the way you feel with her
Or in the way you dread days without her

Words of the wise say, "don't put your happiness in a person
Because they will just fail you when it's all said and done"
But in a way, I cannot help but do this
Because there's something about that feeling when she gives me
*Her kiss.
wrote this as an anaphora in my writing class. If you don't know what this is, it is simply the art of repetition. Turned out better that I thought it would :)
Ryan V Nov 2014
When you are as high as I, you can only sit and think
When you are as high as I, you learn to take life slow
When you are as high as I, the length of a day becomes a blink
When you are as high as I, you learn how to take a blow
When you are as high as I, you manage to sleep through every class
When you are as high as I, you can’t shut your mind off at night
When you are as high as I, you find it is hard for you to move your ***
When you are as high as I, you learn it’s best to keep things light
When you are as high as I, you find it easier at night to smoke yourself to sleep
When you are as high as I, you learn to step out and explore
When you are as high as I, you don’t toe the water you go ahead and leap
When you are as high as I, you swear you’ve seen it all before
When you are as high as I, you learn the beauty of a star strewn sky
When you are as high as I, you understand that the music’s always right on cue
When you are as high as I, you learn how it feels to say “Goodbye”
When you are as high as I, you really want to not care how people look at you
When you are as high as I, you want to travel and live life day by day
When you are as high as I, you hunger to make a change
When you are as high as I, you begin to think a whole new kind of way
When you are as high as I, your aspirations are just in range
When you are as high as I, you also come to terms with the dark
When you are as high as I, you are surprised to see so many settle
When you are as high as I, you are determined to leave your mark
When you are as high as I, you can feel the heat beneath the kettle
When you are as high as I, you develop a service attitude
When you are as high as I, it can be so easy to just be lazy
When you are as high as I, you see joy in expressing gratitude
When you are as high as I, you start to feel like you’re crazy
When you are as high as I, you'll find it can be hard for others to understand
When you are as high as I, the length of a day becomes a blink
When you are as high as I, you learn the importance and uselessness of a plan
When you are as high as I, you can only sit and think
When you are as high as I, you feel as if the world is inside your mind
When you are as high as I, you sit awake at night in a bathrobe drinking tea
When you are as high as I, you find you want to share with all mankind
When you are as high as I, well welcome to the club come on out and join me.
Morgan Powell Jul 2014
I am the way the cold
seems to seep into your bones
on that one day in January.

I am the milk
in the eyes of a
lactose intolerant.
You take the risk once,
then never again.

I am turning the lights off
at 4 AM and running
upstairs. You know there's
nothing behind you,
but the sliver of
is still there.

I am the rejection letter.
You wait
and wait
and wait,
anticipation building,
only to receive me.
I bear nothing
but disappointment.

You are the smell of summer.
That first day
of the season when
you open the windows
and are greeted by songbirds
and the smell of freshly cut grass.

You are a favorite meal.
The one people crave
when they've eaten nothing
but ramen noodles
for the last 3 days. You
aren't tangible
but I can taste you as
if you were.

You are sleeping the day
away, but not caring
because it's the weekend. I'll
regret it tomorrow, but
**** does it feel good.

You are walking outside
barefoot at an ungodly
hour. Crickets chirping,
moisture in the air, each
breath you take goes
directly into your soul.

You are beauty
in the form of a person.
You are the trees and
clouds and
air we breathe, while

I am merely a
grain of sand
in your least favorite
for alina
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