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A small speck
Rests a fragile chin
On another

We are safe
We are together

Of 8 billion strong
My lonely atoms
Waited

Now they hum
As you always have,
And you, too, call me home.
Elkhan Asgar Nov 24
Bir gün bir hörümçək
bərk sürüşərək,
Dığırlandı yerə
dəydi kətilə.
Kətil yerə düşdü –
taxtaları deşdi,
Döşəmə yırğalandı –
və ev dağıldı.
Evsə ucada, yamacda idi,
Birbaşa aşağı diyirləndi.
Tappıltıyla çaya düşdü,
Şişdi çay daşqına döndü,
Ətrafda nə varsa gömdü.
Dərələr və dağları,
Ağaclar və daşları,
Evləri, hasarları,
Uddu hər şeyi sular,
Acgöz, qorxunc dalğalar.
Dalğalar qoynunda üzür bir budaq,
Gəlin bu budağa yaxından baxaq.
Oturub orda o fağır hörümçək,
Sürüşüb yıxılan ağır hörümçək.
Köksünü ötürür, büzüşür, qorxur,
Hərdən də əzdiyi dizini ovur.
Perla Nov 16
A reality so sharp that it hurts. Let me be like an olm so accustomed to everything leaving, falling apart, mending itself, and tearing itself apart again that I no longer need eyes to see that which I know will inevitably happen over and over.

Submerged in cold cave water; wading hands--slow moving and no longer paddling about like a drowning man. In the darkness of environment and of loss of a kind of overwhelming sight this is all that matters. A blunted reality diluted down to what is ultimately real.
MetaVerse Oct 31
Oh, weep for Adonais—he's undead!
    And hath been, lo! these interstitial years!
Yellow and black and pale and hectic red,
    His cockney mood consumptively careers.
Upon a bubbling Hippocrene he's drunk
    And dreaming, standing tiptoe on the brink
Of the wide world that sinks, and will have sunk,
    As love and fame to nothingness do sink.
An anguished autumn wind doth howl a HOWL
    Of abject grief that sweeps the graveyard's stones.
The sickle moon observes the downy owl
    That eats a mouse from tail to skull and bones.
Zombie Allan Poe, who's green and obscene,
Is sobbing, "Happy Birthday Halloween!"
I hope to awake on an open field
Where children play on swings,
Watching people walk their dogs,
And all those kind of things.
I hope to see yellow daffodils
In their thousands all in line,
Followed along with bluebells,
A blue sky and sun that shines.
I hope to see those people
The ones I used to know,
Instead of sadness in their eyes
Now is a smile that always glows.
I hope to see those animals,
Cows, pigs and sheep
Grazing together without any fear
Knowing they're not food to eat.
I hope to see a different world
A world that we've never seen
One with peace and harmony
The way it should have been.
I hope to awake on an open field
And I hope that day will be
With all those lovely people,
And my true love waiting for me.
Had a chat with my cat.
Now how about that?
She spoke with a twitch of whisker
and slow blinked her eyes to whisper
that she’s feeling quite content
to be in this moment.
For though she’s told me her life story
of all the times she’s been crowned in glory
by defeating her toy mice —
which is really not a vice —
it’s in the here and now
with no sweat upon her brow
that she’s glad to becuddle me
and from worry be wild and free.
Watch her fur belly rise and fall
and her purr keeps me in her thrall
as I scratch her fluffy chin
and feel peace spread within.
My imperial feline mistress made me write this bit of doggerel (catterel?)
Oak trees, Pine trees, Cottonwoods, and Birch
Upon these trees,
birds love to perch
Birds come in all
sizes and colors
Birds calling and chirping
with all the others

Squirrels, Rabbits,
Chipmunks, and Foxes
Scatter the grounds, burrow into holes, and sometimes boxes
Winter, Spring,
Summer, and Fall
They gather thier goodies,
to survive them all

Deer, Moose, Antelope, and Elk
Wander through fields,
woods, and corn silk
Grazing on whatever
nutrition they can find
All hunkering down in these times with thier own kind

Bears, Bobcats,
Cougars, and Wolves
Hibernation, catch prey, climb and attack, the
beautiful, wild dog packs
in droves
Deep dark caves, burrowed holes in the ground,
to wandering forests, and
great big meadows
All these predators seem to come from the shadows

Waves of lavender fields of dreams, like river beds of sand
Fields of flaxen, golden grass waiving with God's hand
Daisies, Buttercups,
Rose's, and Daffodils
Just smell thier sweet scents rise into the hills

Dreams are Wishes,
Wishes are dreams
Wildlife are the makings of everything in between
Flowers are the fragrance of life
The blue skies and
white fluffs of clouds
Take away all the strife...
Copyright ©️ to Julia L Carlson Vogel
Original poem
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