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Alek Mielnikow Apr 2019
The little girl’s arm was just long enough to touch the top of the lake. She lay at the end of the pier on her stomach, with one arm and her head floating over the edge. Both feet kicked the air in a steady rhythm. She tapped that same rhythm onto the water, one finger at a time.

thumb-index-middle-ring
pinky-ring-middle-index
thumb-inde­x-middle-ring
pinky-ring-middle-index

The Payne’s gray sky cast a languor over her town, and soon she would be called back inside.

Why was this Friday afternoon so boring?

Within the dark drum in front of her, she saw a glowing fish radiating an orange luminescence. She beamed a smile and waved at the tiny creature.

It swam away. She pouted a tut, but bowed her frown, aware of the wistful fated nature of all things.

She stood up to leave, but before turning she spotted the fish again, in its mighty illumination. She smiled and waved, and as she did the entire lake lit up in a cauldron of flaming fish. They swam around, an oil painting alive right before her eyes. Her hands came up to her wowed cheeks as she laughed with euphoric glee.

And as soon as it had come it went, and only the one gleaming fish remained.

The little girl said thanks, and the fish departed.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow
Living organisms that illuminate are considered bioluminescent, and it's a fascinating phenomenon. Though glowing fish are more often found in the ocean than in lakes, and they surely don't communicate with little girls... or do they?


If you liked this poem, you'll probably also like "Giggles" and "Dear Daughter of Mine."
Em MacKenzie Mar 2019
Please tell me all your secrets,
I’ll listen so very intensely,
I know I could never beat this;
intrigue consumes me so immensely.
Tell me all your little stories
from your birth until today,
I swear there’s so much there for me,
not one is boring regardless of what you say.

I’m an aspiring archeologist
wishing to discover your bones
I’ll take detailed notes in a list,
from the gravel to the stones.
I’ll dig as deep as you permit,
carefully brushing away the dust,
gently admiring bit by bit,
proving I’m someone you can trust.

Please tell me all the thoughts in your head,
the ones before you sleep and while awake.
A novel that’s new each time I’ve read,
each detail I’ll comb and rake.
Speak every word that comes to mind,
I crave to step inside your brain,
I know there’s hidden corners for me to find,
and so much understanding left to gain.

I’m an aspiring architect
wishing to build you to the sky,
every support beam I’ll personally inspect,
protecting any damage low or high.
I’ll construct only to your designs
ensuring you’ll never break and never bust,
producing the math and drawing the lines,
to prove you’ll be the only thing to never rust.

Please tell me all your deepest fears
so I can prepare myself to stand toe to toe,
the ones that cause sleepless nights and tears,
those are my one and only foe.
Tell me about the world you see,
how it looks through your bright eyes,
so I can express it creatively,
and paint you the perfect skies.

I’m an aspiring starving artist
wishing to illustrate every aspect of you,
you can criticize and say I’m blinded by the mist,
but every poem and portrait will be true.
There’s no explaining this pure bliss,
but I’ll make up new words and colours if I must,
as you’re the only thing that I ever miss,
proving this is love not just lust.
emru Mar 2019
No luck with love
I'll admit it.

I commit and dive in,
sort of stuck.

All in or not at all,
that's my premise.

Awe-struck always,
if it's not working.
Maelynn Mar 2019
My heart is full of unwritten songs
That echo
From long ago;
I seek them out with a pen and ink
But where they come from
I may never know.

Twisting lullabies
A melancholy heart,
I sit here and I sigh;
A beauty so bittersweet
Deserves a better vessel than I.
Hilla254 Feb 2019
It was hard to be man
Never had a inclusive guide
Life's exclusive hand out manual
Instead,
I lived by my rules
If you heard my thoughts
By day and night
You know it all
You know i really liked her
I would gift the world to her
The stars and the moon too
Though they belong to you
And the ups and downs
Turned me upside down
Mom Said they were there
To make us strong
But sometimes the downs
Were stronger
Thought of cursing life
Under my breath
If it would end the pain, end it all
But the will to live
Always won.
©Hillα
A gun on my head, my hand's shaking though i was the one holding it, end of simulation i couldn't do it
I went to the canyon
To see the sights
To read the writes
To meet the heights
The heights were high
The lows were right
But something didn’t click

The tears didn’t run
The breath wasn’t taken
Yeah it was cool but I’m not mistaken
I wanted to be blown off that cliff
But the wind fell short, the air was stiff

Never have I met my sense of awe
I hope we’ll meet someday
I’m holding out hope that I find my strike
That I’ll be blown away
I was trying a new style with this one. It’s more rhyme oriented. This one might seem stiff but I’ll get more comfortable with it. I want to diversity my poetry a little bit.
Lainey Jan 2019
Why must we unpack MYSTERY?
Wrap it in Theology?
Box it up with piety and on our knees call “Deity!”
Can AWE be trademarked, WONDER sold?
Does the unknown have to fit a mold?
Embrace the pure uncertainty and cherish possibility.
As an Atheist it ticks me off when religious people claim that only they can experience true wonder or awe etc.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
Clarifying failed. Spelchek is not on strike.

{clear ification, an ionic bond be tween me and thee,
alienated mind, not mined, crafted
from tactics and strategies
beyond chess.
Player One,
1980's era
jewish-geek-mid-pubesence-kid-level,
proceed with caution.
This trope has trapped many a curious child.
---
Now, enter the old ones,
Grandfather taught uncle chess so well
he went to the state tournament in Kayenta,
and a grandma was
state-champ-bare-bow-in-the-rain-shooter,

these, now must learn

minecraft on x-box to be considered
for the real life role of

good at games grand parents
from the time right after atom bombs kicked up dust
places dust had not been in a very long time and
as the dust began to settle

some dust mights was cationic.
Negative bits, they became embedded in the code.
Bumps, fering, coming together
just a knot in a string,
attracting anionic curiosity might

round and round phorward ferring to be
a thread to tie my heart to yours

like twisted Pima cotton thread,
that I pulled from an old sweatshirt
to tie a crow feather in this paho of words filled with old jokes

Making this clear would belie the entire story AI and I know true}

truth is. we agree. no capsokehspaceasneededcommasetal.
caps okeh space as needed commas et al
go.
Did that work? That line

subject of this act fact done, agree to follow,
and I may lead and be

not you, me, dear reader, I mean first true

there is no any if nothing is. So simple some say its sublime beyond the spectrum of ones
and zeros thought on off probably

either or any time time can be accounted for

wouldn't you take a

thought,  nothing,
as it is commonly said to be understandable,

the state of not being, imagine that

the state of not being we negate in being,
unless you are mad and are lost in a whirlwind
such as such voices have been said to

have twisted into threads as
wicks for our lamps
turn floating on
golden oil twisting
wickered into wickering wee shadow fibers
on the western wall for legends to sprout from.

Wickering mare over there, expands us both by my hearing her
you had no idea she was near enough to hear
time is no barrier in actual ever.
What phor can contain me,
whispered my whimsy

Imagine she spoke,
what would she say for what reason
would she say

good good good, I feel good, ha,
I am right, by accident. ever body can feel this good.

good is good.
good is.
Sam Harris, agrees, good as far as good goes, is good
in every vecter from now

the terrain does exist, beyond the moral landscape, to

true true
trust me, I been there.
Been there done that was inserted into the vernacular on my watch,
first summer post war.

matter must not matter as much to me as it does to thee, nestypass? no se?

All jewish boys have chess move metaphors.
(a phor is for containing,
bearing
meta,
everybody knows, like metaphysics,
after physics in the stack of stackable metadata)

OHMYGOD THE IDW circa 2018 -- who knew I ate this **** up?

[the old code calls for excretion of digested material
from which meaning has been extracted in the idleword accounting processor:
literal
<pre>what if utterance=****, then **** haps, no else then</pre>]

Did that happen? One of my friends told me that happened in Florida, the whole world turned to ****... for lack of a nail a kingdom was lost, they say, little foxes spoil the grapes,
hung chad ex
cuses...

Pre-expandable ROM, not magic. tech,

pre-infinite imagination? impossible.
and nothing is what is impossible with good as god.

Is there no perfect game?
is the game the session or the life of the user
offline

rerererererererererereroxotoxin, poison pen
ideal viral umph exspelliered
up against the wall

reset. We

kunoon albania omerta oy vey, who could say?
one way better, one way not? quark.
up or down, with variable spins, who can say?

Life's right,
yes. but mo'ons of other something must have been for higgs to ever matter

and it does, I got commas, from 2018.

Are you with me? This is that book I told you I had access…

You or some mind other than mine owned mind, where
my owned peace rests in truth,

otherwise, I know every any or else in the code since I can recall,
in time

if this were a test I swore to take to prove to you
the we can be me in your head

phillipkdicktated clue

if you don't know me by now, maybe we should stop.

Temptations are times. Time things. Time spans, yeah, like bridges

or portals, right
The Internet in One Day, Fred Pryor Resources,
Wu'wuchim 1995.

Ever, not everish or everistic or every, but ever
body knows,
but you.

Catch up. We left all our doors blown off, once we learned that we could blow our own doors off,

there are no open sesames or slips of leth or sibylets

shiba yah you knew all along there was a
song she sang all one and we watched it morph
before our very eyes

alone.

The magic stories words may contain, may bear, we must agree

more than we may know, by faith, metagnostic as we see

the sublime gift of the magi
become clear und

be und sein sind both trueture same tu you, we agree.
But. Lock here, no pre 2018 editing codes

validate past last go.
Do one good thing today. That was my goal. Today https://anchor.fm/ken-pepiton Part 3 Soyal Hopi Mystery Enactment (called mystery plays). And the intro to Moral Landscape by Sam Harris, led me let ******* write a poem.
plat Nov 2018
Some say real
Is what you see
Some say
It's what you feel
Like a man down on one knee

Some say real
Real does not exist
That if we really open our eyes
All we see is a cloudy mist
And it's there we go when we meet out demise

I wonder
What does real mean
Is it what we see
What we feel
Or something else
Right under our heel?
Tanay Oct 2018
When they met,
They were both young and stupid.
Under the tree of love, they sat
Kissed by the arrows of cupid.
He saw a fire in her,
It burned bright.
He was in awe of her
She was like a light.
A light he had sought for
But, couldn't find.
In his core
He was in darkness, he was blind.
Until she came along
And turned him into a different man.
She was like a beautiful song
Her name was Ann.









Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved.
It has been a while since I decided to pick up the pen and write something. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: All characters or people (if any) mentioned here are subject to my imagination. I am yet to meet someone to whom I could dedicate a poem like this. Hence, I made up an imaginary person and wrote a poem for her.
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