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Starry Aug 30
In the bottom of the river
There is my shadow
Clear as day
The water crystal
How God creates
The best art.
Where I am just a mortal
Artist.
Jeremy Lauzon May 15
Suttle mark upon the window
Landscape dazed
The arrival of spring
Sunlight swept to cause the haze

Among the scholarship
It is me
Aspiration to days of kinship
Troubles face this lack of breeze

The fear of the short term wait
Rummy beyond my fragile day
A mind that has always gone away
Depictions of these irrational sways      

In the distance
I watch the branches
The flutter of their fragile lances
Visions obtained with prying glances

Ideas flooding the mind
Is this a hint?

A new glory I must find
Leave the words in my print

Writers block now released
Joy from this new found breeze
An idea offered by my disease
The phenomenon is complete

I am pleased
Apporva Arya Dec 2018
Saw you first time,
In the campus of mine,
For love is crowned with the prime,
U stole my heart in daytime..
Nothing sets more chills down your spine then the love at first sight. When you meet or saw someone that it takes you a while to realize that yes he is not a dream.
Maxim Keyfman Nov 2018
and turned off the lights in the daytime
turned off the light and it was snowing outside
it is snowing outside today

and I'm still still waiting

30.11.18
Bryce Nov 2018
Two pigeons
Resting lip of ATM
Nature's kind tellers.
Gabriel burnS Sep 2017
what, already
that aroma;
not a single spoon
of sugar:
the better
the awakening;
my coffee grinning,
shaking me

there's no way
to backtrack;
I'm sipping from b-cups,
kicking into gear...

flash forward;
(flesh in the background)
absentmindedly
chasing destination
instead of destiny,
always in a hurry

coffee drops
now drying up
disheveled,
the only ones
still keeping
memory of lips
retreating
like the waves
caressing shores
goodbye

long gone is
the reflection
undulating eyes

thoughts are perched
on mornings:
the old ones,
the upcoming...
V
JAC Jul 2017
It was suddenly twenty-eight minutes
                 after three in the morning,
and I found myself in your bedroom.
     Your sheets were cheap and creased,
                     your quilt was older than you,
                   and your pillow cases didn't match.
There were three pillows, and you had all of them.
                                                                ­       I didn't mind.

Your breathing was the steadiest thing in your life right now,
              and your back rose and fell
                          as regularly as your hopes did in the daytime.

                    There was nothing on your back -
           whatever was there
an indefinite number of hours previously
     had joined the convention of disorganized stress on the floor
              that slept a mere seven and a half inches from us.

                      The mattress was as warm as we were,
           and the whole of it held tightly to the scratched hardwood floor
that was probably still owned by those that lived here before you.

                                                           There was an appalling lack
                                            of glow-in-the-dark stars
                              on your dull, cracked ceiling.
A cut-up excerpt from what will soon be a long story
about growth, uncertainty and lives we never expect to be a part of.
Zero Nine May 2017
My grandpa, he got cancer from smoking
cigarettes. I set fire to the ends of bones, too.
The only male energy in my whole life,
and the best example of what I shouldn't do.
Emotionally abused my family,
no regrets, no subtle nod, or attempt at truth.
We set aside the split hairs in sunlight,
watched them fade while listening to the empty tune
of two hearts too lost and misunderstood.
One perfect look at conviction displaced and strewn.
I'd like to think I'm resistant to death's call,
but I'm well aware how the earth hurts,
how my home land endures political turf war.
Queer cannot be an exclusive concept.
Would you like to come lie beside me on my floor?
Drift between feelings, count specks on the ceiling?
I can't seem to find purpose in living, but I love,
and love life just enough. Do you love enough to meet nighttime
and sleep til the morning? Press your forehead to mine,
tell me of your scrapes and how many times.
6

Inspired by Alkaline Trio.
Wyatt Mar 2017
As sure as the night will come,
the beginning comes after the end.
The first thoughts are glum
while the gears start turning again.
Back to work, tie your apron, coffee for energy.
It's a rambunctious quiet,
different ideas for how the day will be.
This is the start of the day
where I'm awaiting another end,
how will the storyline
be placed for me today when I begin?

- Editor's Note Coming Soon -
It's no shocker for me to tell you all (whoever may be reading this) that my fingers have made contact with my brain a lot lately to type out these pieces. Inspiration has found me in such a strange time after only peeking in every now and again here on HelloPoetry. It's been a long while, but I'm feeling inspired to get my words out there to you all again. I am currently typing out a series of poems that can be enjoyed separately, but also are built to be read one after another. To tell a story of my thoughts throughout a day. My way of life as of now stuck in between the words success and failure. "Daytime Daydreams" is the name of this series of poems, I guess you could call it some kind of poetry book...just without the book part. I hope you look forward to my next entries where any related to Daytime Daydreams will be marked in the description of those pieces. I thank you all for reading, commenting and showing some love.
Cweeta Cwumble Feb 2017
as the daylight breaks through
the stained-glass window and
rests upon your sleeping face
like a blanket

i like to look at you this way
when dream world is still open for you,
your day hasn't yet started and you're
untouched by the rest of the world.
just dreaming.

i feel like this is perfection.

your soft hair, your eyelashes,
the gentle rise and fall of your chest,
those lips that are (somehow) even more
perfect than they were the night before.
the lips are my favorite.

i think about kissing you, tasting you,
folding myself into your tattoos,
lifting you gently back into your body
so I can once again be with you

but I linger in this moment a little
longer. savor it a little more. allowing
you more time in the mystical purity
of your dreams. allowing myself to bask
in this budding garden a little more.  

and I hope that in your dreams you are a king.
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