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Blue periwinkle

Rim of gold, oval brass ***

Sunlit patio



✨🌿🌿✨
Jaslin Goh Dec 2020
The sky amidst
I think of those I miss
Even a day could change
Things we never thought age

I think of us
Sitting on the bus
I will change for us
Why am I holding a dry husk

Of the people I fought for
Some not anymore
Some are ropes
I pull no hopes

I would go back
My mind playbacks
I walk on empty shells
My heart aches as hell

You people are here
But can you hear
My thoughts that linger
Maybe you no longer tingle

The rain still patters
I am in fetters
The sky hangs amiss
I wonder about those I miss
an unpublished quatrain written some time back; fitting for all who’ve lost someone this bitter year, those unable/trying to move on with life
Raven Blue Dec 2020
Violet to black roses;
Doors of wonder closes;
Pomegrenates in winter;
Weeping willows wither.
Aditya Roy Dec 2020
Like sprightly spring and autumn's boredom
We are two lovers, different from another
Cold as cold is, the old man holds a sneeze in
With war around, vulnerable people wash their sins

A snowflake sits on the roof, melting overhead
The sun shimmering, as cleansing as an ablution
Underneath two crystal gazers cover the grass
Warmth to warmth, ashen leaves and stalk

Thistle to thicket, the birch covers the sun, a gas giant
Her eyes encompass all as eagles perched atop everyone
Grey with age, blue, gelid like ice, looking for some silver
The mountains echo her eternal reflection that disturb the conifers
I wrote this as a meditation on the art of language and the concept of its usage. Language and rhyme are intricately webbed in this poem to form a melange of imagery.
Beside me, in this unforgiving November’s winter, is she…
My queen beside me, amidst this rotting debris gifted to me.
Daphne, the comforter sent from the highest skies of Elysia
And Daphne, my love, you put a stopper… on my withering
Never did the sounding of a name, here, blossom a magnolia
Daphne, yours made my hell, the eternal orchards of Elysia.

We were betrothed to each other in here, in this wasteland
I await; you at our wedding, in your wedding gown, oh…
‘Tis her, the beau sky wrapped around your gentle frame
In your adornments, gifted from the agents of light, oh…
They are sapphire stars plucked from that midnight blue
On the edge of the Aegean sea, we await, in this wasteland

I await; you at our wedding, in your veil and crown, oh…
‘Tis her, the clouds and her raindrops, adorning your face  
I await our wedding waltz, in our deserted fields, oh…
Without our kin, persecuted and orphaned by the world
Alone we shall dance, on the edge of Ymos, our dwelling
Alone we shall be in our vows when our eyes rain in joy

I await your grand advent, beaming gleefully, towards me
Bringing me, serenity; being my succour, with your smile
I await your silhouette, irradiating the wide evening blue
Bringing me, release; being my soother, now I live anew
Daphne, your midnight blue eyes, your voice of mead…
My pen fervently gallops for words, as I just gaze in awe  

Let the sands of time tick away in joy, ticking, grain by grain
The heavens merry till the penultimate hours of our union
Now, in these salty Aegean waters, I taste honey and wine
I await our pristine union; as your hand knots with mine.
Beside me, in this unforgiving November’s winter, is you…
Daphne…
This one is for a person yet to be or yet for me to see. I hope you enjoy this.
lilac Nov 2020
outside,
the sky flourished with blue,
whistling winds intertwining with clouds,
eloquently
threading through the paleness,
sitting there capturing the light embrace of yours.
an attempt to try to make it look somewhat like a cloud.
Dali Nov 2020
I'm daring to
Glimpse
Perceive
Barely stand on my own feet
What shoes am I going to wear
Is it blue, red, nor green?
Don't feel the heaviness of my feet
But everything fit immaculately to my verity sheet
Ach,
Are these really the colors of my being?
Well...
They say emotions really fades away
I don't know now
Cause I heard the eternal aura whispers coming through my thoughts
Or is it just my own whispering sound?
Oh God
I can't speak
Nor find the root in me
Water me
I must water me
I want to see the flowers of my soul
I want to feel the existence in me
There's a black sky
But only to feed the earth's feet
A dashed black color in me
Coming through every breath I take while I speak
Raven Blue Nov 2020
As little Raven is falling;
Memories keeps reminiscing.
The clock's hands are turning back.
The past's time is coming back.
Flock of ravens flying through woods;
But that memory isn't that good.
Little Raven was just watching them flying;
Over a broken little window.
Imagining to be free from dying,
And could fly freely over the rainbow.
Little Raven (III)
Andrew Rueter Nov 2020
Deep underwater
we blow unwilling bubbles
pockets of blue air
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