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Mateah Sep 28
In the hum drum and the toil
In the itch of daily life
As we each till our own soil
Carefully avoiding each others' strife
We go to and fro enjoying
The comfort of monotony
And take pride in our employing
The right of autonomy

We take little heed of shadows
And the artwork they display
Or the fluffiness of clouds
As they drift along their way
We forget to thank our knees
As we bend to take a seat
Or admire the flowing streams
In the hardwood beneath our feet

It takes substantial effort
To see the inches in the miles
But there's something striking in them
That I think you'll find worthwhile
Take notice of the details
Don't be blind to little things
When life feels all too big
Just practice noticing
I've found this makes my life feel much less chaotic. Noticing details helps ground me, make me more thankful, and helps me realize the insignificance of most of my problems. Haha.
Drab Sep 25
'-) - cyclops winking.

What is the world coming to?
What is the world going to do?
The one-eyed monster,\
Is coming for you...
NOTES - HOLLOWEEN approaches from the south, build a wall!!!!!!
Zywa Aug 5
The more concretely

you tell a story, the less --


you'll be understood.
"Diary 1958-1959" (2006, Frida Vogels), February 12th, 1958 in Amsterdam

Collections "Trench Walking" and "WriteWiser signage"
Jeremy Betts May 26
I'm far from being a worthy investment
It's pretty evident
Someone would have every right to be hesitant
And feel the growth of resentment
When so many details are absent
My mood isn't constant
Had a mind but lost it
Thoughts run rampant
But are often incoherent
Called the cops on myself for self inflicted harassment
A living predicament
The opposite of a sycophant
My betterment is, at best, flippant
And I can already tell everybody's sick of it

©2024
Ken Pepiton Apr 18
The point of differentiation,
not the point of contention,

the point of no return
continuation relative
to knowing subtle forces

ostensibly contained
in the whole truth,
and nothing but,

to which no doubt,
you are personally sworn,
under penalty of cognative
cacaphonic gnosisnot cough

to reembodeize, embody abide
completely centered, self aware.

Then, the fiber that fuses string
theory and determinism hooks
a loop in time's SYTF problem set,

so the set that made young
Earl Russell paradoxically famous,

from now on, one may learn and learn
from now on, until one disintegrates,
dissipates as cloud forms disperse,
to show us how it works, wooly

clouds meeting the reflected wind,
and the winds from the pacific,
pour down one side of my valley
and up the other side, to make those

parrallel feathery shapes one can watch
form on fine days
with nothing needing done,

if the determinists are right, what matters
if I use my time chosing to bend clouds

into vast wings involved in making me think.
I invested four hours watching clouds while listening
o Long Walk to Freedom,
Mandela makes me think free will is most probably our choice.
- what difference does anything make if nothing really matters?
In summary, the main difference between energy and momentum is that energy is proportional to the velocity squared, while momentum is proportional to velocity. Additionally, energy is a scalar quantity, while momentum is a vector quantity.

AI-generated answer. Please verify critical facts.{its the spin, init}
June Jun 2023
I guess it does make me sad sometimes
The gaps on my wall
Places that you used to be
Now just empty
It’s like you’re drifting away
A ghost
And I do wonder if it all was real
If it hadn’t been how does it feel so real
I can still remember that day in the gardens
It is strange
Stranger
That’s all you are now
But I know every tiny detail about you
But I’m not supposed to anymore
I’m supposed to forget that you like the colour purple, like my grandpa
Forget how you chew your nails
The disapproving looks you’d give me
Those nights
The way that you sleep
And I’m supposed to be sad about it
I don’t think about it
But when I go into great detail
Like the first night we kissed
Eating neapolitan ice cream
You putting aloe Vera on my sunburnt feet
Me making you kiss my dog three times
It doesn’t feel real
And then it always circles back to how bad you’d make me feel
And I remember why I shouldn’t feel terrible
I remember why it can’t work
And now I’ll never know you like that again
Probably never even speak again.
Damon Robinson Nov 2022
Love is all about the details,
I learned that from you.

The best example being the morning of the winter storm,
How when you were about to leave,
I was reminded that I always had a thing for a girl in uniform.

We hugged before you left, and I remembered that
My favourite part of being close to you,
Is the essence of lilac sewn into your sweater.

I adored the fact that your toque,
The one that never fit you quite right,
Carried the scent of your strawberry hair.

“Be safe” I said.
It was only a five minute drive,
But when I saw the smile in your eyes
I knew you understood what I really meant.
it's always in the details
JK Oct 2021
I crest the sand dune
breath catching in my chest.
A sigh of relief,
my eyes consume the sight.

The ocean is so blue.
So vast.
So loud, yet
quiet. Like white noise.

Joy bubbles up into my chest,
onto my smiling lips
and squinting eyes.

My senses buzz with satisfaction.
The smell of sunbaked sand,
of the fresh ocean air.

The wind is cold and the sun is warm.
The sand, scalding hot on
the surface, but cool once
I bury my feet deeper.

Peoples voices and seagulls calls
are muted by
the waves crashing against the shore.

The weightless blue sky,
The deep blue ocean,
and the soft white sand.
Simple enough, but
I can't look away
and I want to stay.
An unedited poem. I really like the ocean.
Aseel May 2021
I told him:
Making me happy is not easy
Since my happiness hides
Between the smallest details
In the tones of my favorite song from the next car window
Under the buttons of my sky-blue dress
In how berries taste after 18 hours of work
In strangers smiles and between the lines of my beloved ones letters
Under the golden rays and on the iced cotton *****
In things that can’t be sold or purchased, but made and felt.
In you
Poetry Art Dec 2020
3 of 30

Pampering myself with the scent of the old ink,
The sound produced by the pen suddenly turns into a melody,
Letters collided and produced words,
Which indulged me as I turn them into metaphors

I started to define the curves of his lips,
How his tears flow down as he begins to bleed,
The way he laugh and make hearts skip a beat,
His anger and sorrow that turns up the heat

As I put the little details of him in each verses,
He began to learn how to use a pen and a paper,
Created a prose which contains lines,
Another being he is starting to define

A lady with long curly hair,
Fiery eyes which can easily tame,
Rosy cheeks and curvy lips,
He started to depict beauty― his poetry which isn't me
when will i ever be someone's poetry?
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