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Young Soda Feb 2016
Most easily dredged up by balloons,
though it's in snowflakes, beehives,
watermelons and seasides, tennis
shoes, bare feet, deep dives and knee
highs. Two cups, four hands, infinite
tea, smiles. Falling asleep on the couch,
running a mile and then breathing out.

In the perfect timing, the rhythm
to life. The taste of the nectar, the
setting of the vivid dream, the smell
of the clay. The touch of the stone,
when you arrive at the peak. The
frequency of her soul, the feeling
of freedom. The communion of
people, who have found the same
wisdom. The light of the morning
Through the windows, of home.

The sound of harmony flowing
through your cerebrum. The air
in your lungs, the long breaths
when you breathe them. The
light in your face that reflects
off the sun. The clouds that help
all of the plants toward the sun.
The dog laying still finding warmth
in the sun. The air that was born
and that lives in the sun. The
piece of us that was once tied
to the sun.
air and water are some good tings
sometimes
if you stop breathing
you can hear
you can hear the sound
of the single drop of water
as it drips
onto a bit of tin
amidst the grass and the mud
or the sound of the ducks’
feathers as they play
in the eddies
or the sound of the sun
as it rises over the grey canal
kissing it to life
over treetops that are
japanese watercolours
and boats moored in the marina
memories of a time gone by

sometimes
if you stop breathing
you can feel
you can feel the breeze
on the hair of your arms
the wind as it chills your fingers
and you exhale
dragon breath
sometimes
if you stop breathing
you can feel
life
in death

sometimes
if you stop breathing
you gasp
as you take in the details
the masthead
on a boat
a dragon
with horns?
a greek god
to keep storms away?
hammered iron and blue
a totem
a good luck charm
a protective spell

sometimes
if you stop breathing
everything fades
and all we have
is the now
the single breath
pain vanishes
and all that remains
is bliss
Julia Mae Feb 2016
17.
another fail
i am not holding my breath
so please do not bother
bringing me down gently
i am already not breathing
Joyce Feb 2016
I stand here in the cold.
With the wind in my face.
My hands in my pockets.
My feelings unvold.
So quiet so beautiful.
Morning light so
untouchable.
Breathing slow as
I'm ready to go.
Leaving this flow.
Wish I could stay.
Hope you will have
such a lovely day.
Joyce Feb 2016
At this hour I know it's to late.
For writing and thinking.
Being restless mind spinning.
Words keep on chasing.
Heartbeat is racing.
Controlling my breathing.
In bed so revealing.
I should be dreaming.
Under warm blanket
so appealing.
Eyes are almost closing.
I find myself dozing.
Sweet dreams
before I am sleeping.
y i k e s Feb 2016
Who are we really?

We're all human beings on the outside, covered in flesh and filled with blood

But beyond that,

                                       Who are we really?

Are we good?
What is good?

Are we bad?
What is bad?

We're living, but are we actually a l i v e ?
What does alive mean, actually?

We're all breathing,
But what does that mean?

Deep down, inside
                                             Who are we really?
A collection of recent thoughts
Syiera Rose Jan 2016
She felt as if the air had died. As if the world had stopped.
As if the blood in her veins ceased flow.
And the burning began and she felt a rush. Her blood was once again moving, the world had started revolving again and the air came back to life.
I write all my poems, And if you would like to use what I have written, I ask you to ask my permission or at least let me know that you want to use my words.
That is the least you could do.
thank you.
Joyce Jan 2016
Steady my breathing.
Slowly drifting floating.
Close my eyes while
I'm dreaming.
Thoughts in my mind
can you see what
I'm thinking.
By looking without
blinking.
A fragile soul still
holding on strong.
It's when life unvolds.
When things can go wrong.
Leaving scars on our heart.
Fix them fast so you
don't fall apart.
We all have our highs and lows.
It's how we deal with situations.
Shine through dark nights.
Sometimes we have
to let rivers flow.
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