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Snehith Kumbla Jan 2018
to be assured
of a roof above
my head,

and a mother
who will cook
for me lovingly,

nothing is so
damning as
absolute safety,

I am the human
cat this fading
winter, wait

and I may soon
grow whiskers,
the days fling

away like speeding
scenery from a
train window,

I sing my
death song,
tomorrow,

tomorrow...
Star BG Sep 2017
I sleep in a cocoon of words,
sheltered when winds get rough.
They make me giggle
when inner child surfaces.
They move with power
urging self to expand.

My cocoon is my haven
keeping words safe
until ready to fly.
The creative fibers of words
flow continuous
from endless heartbeats
that weave in mind.

And when I release them,
in gentle song they float
gracefully in colorful fashion,
Float, as I steer them
to land in the
landscape of a poem.
The word cocoon inspired me
K Balachandran Jul 2017
Here in dense darkness, alone I sit,
and crave for the caressing rays
of thy gentle light, nowhere near.
Out side the balcony netted to
keep the deviant doves away
the city of million lights speaks
in a jumble of numerous sounds.
like my heavy heart, the overcast sky
is a silent observer, holding light back.

The silence within me kept deepening,
every little light in this city night has
a story to tell, I perk up my ears to hear.
Every skyscraper silently exchange
encrypted message of light of many kind,
to one another, written on darkness.

"I don't trust the night,
she is a cheat" says one
The other replies, "Oh! the night
her luxurious dark hair heals"
Within the discordant sounds
what light etch on the night air has
love and hate, sin and redemption.
Neon pauses create a rhythm,
the musical river flows on.
Sitting here inside the cocoon,
I did spin myself and inhabit,
I think I see you there in the distant
blue light, which you yourself embraced

Will you be ever dreaming about my lonely plight,
when you dive deeper in to your dark night?
Richard Grahn May 2017
Inside your cocoon
You think of this as home but
You must learn to fly
Transformation depends on letting go. Get too comfortable and the next thing you know, you’re trapped in your cocoon. If you’re made to fly, then fly. If you’re made to write then, by all means, write!
Sandoval Apr 2017
I miss you, the same way

the butterfly misses its

cocoon on a long journey

to migration.

*Sandoval
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