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kind hands Mar 9
i had
a slice of normality
the other day

and
it was
******* delicious
kind hands Mar 9
please
dont feed me
to the vultures

im already
skin and bone
kind hands Mar 3
give me something real
a hand to hold
so i can feel

not just a flailing soul
lost
in lifes bitter gale

torn and tethered
hands of steel

give me something real
a hand to hold
so i can feel
kind hands Feb 25
this nauseating numbness
eats away
day after day

endless
relentless
repressive
scream

and still
the water drips
tipping me
from restless

ripping me
towards a man
whos broken and helpless

it wears me down
screaming
hoarse and breathless

it dont change
day after day

grab it
but i cant catch it
its my life
and its passing me by
kind hands Feb 28
this rubiks cube
is spinning & dancing
and im always ******* grasping

empty hands
clasp again
im tired of this grey noose

house of straw
built once more
or will it take root

share your words
share your thoughts
help me navigate
While walking through a warm afternoon
that suddenly turned from bright to dim,
with blazing clouds that began to loom
and shadows grew deeper and light was thin:

My way ahead was unexpectedly barred
by an iron gate, its lock snapped shut.
It’s topped by spikes well made to ward
off hurdlers, sharpened, made to deeply cut.

Past the gatehouse, a tunnel, a fallen shelter
from the rapidly coming hard rainfall
that once was sung about by a jester
in time with a tambourine, as I recall.

It leads to a light that’s still ablaze
where sunbeams’ sheen still sparkles bright,
beckoning us all to pass this gate
that looks at first glance a menacing might.

To stay before this wrought iron fence,
its spikes tipped with red poison that drips
into the soil that’s in cracked distress?
I won’t just wait here in the dawning eclipse.

No lock is unpickable, no wall too high
for those with the will to reach new skies.
Inspired by this photo I took of a locked gate and tunnel in Park Sanssouci: https://bsky.app/profile/jackgroundhog.bsky.social/post/3lhj73chk522d

(Yes, there’s a Dylan reference in there)
Calling out  
To the stars on a solemn night  
Weaving whispers  
Through the shadows that shun the light  
One truth  
I remind myself each day: "Hold on tight"  
Yet still I yearn to ask what’s right?  

Calm stillness  
While the flames dance all around me  
Just a breath  
Before I tumble to my knees  
A sudden quake  
The chaos swells but somehow feels so bright  
For this is my fight  

Shattered another wall, yet it still stands tall  
Scaled the highest peak, yet I’m destined to fall  
Spin me another tale so I can piece my heart together  
It’s like shifting the weather  

All the love that slipped through left me frail and meek  
Heavy clouds, vacant stares, I find it hard to speak  
Just a thread, just to weave my soul back together  
Is like changing the weather  

When all is lost  
Will I ever be found?  
On this trembling ground  
Will you hear the sound  
Of the me that drifts, never to be found?  

For it all feels  
Like changing the weather.
Syafie R Jan 14
Life, mean—

Unkind it seems.

A battle fierce,

A shattered dream.

Yet in the dark,

A spark still gleams,

And through the storm,

Mankind redeems.
How do you feel,
as you carry on?

Is life meant for you,
or mean all along?
As this is an interactive poem, I’d love your thoughts on the question it poses.
Lizzie Bevis Dec 2024
Not all victories wear medals of gold,
Some hide in moments,
overlooked and untold.
They were found in a deep sigh,
In a smile and through tears,
when days were long,
when you wished for hope
and a will to be strong.

With each sunrise met
when rest felt incomplete,
and with each foul day weathered,
with heavy feet.
These too are triumphs,
written into each trial,
between survival and each mile.

When you carried on when it felt too much,
found peace in chaos, with a patient touch.
Building castles from the ruins of your plans,
and held faith like water
cupped in trembling hands.

Count the small victories, every single one,
each battle fought and silently won.
For perseverance begins with each try,
and strength lives within
the desire to thrive.

This year that's passing,
Has been harsh and kind,
And left its markings on your mind.
Yet here you stand, still breathing deeply,
With hope your heart has learned to keep.
In a quiet victory, that is yours to hold
Worth more than any medal of gold.

©️Lizzie Bevis
For me, personally 2024 has been shocking, it certainly hasn't been without its challenges, but I am here and I am hoping that 2025 will be much better.
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