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SoVi Feb 2020
Bubbles are forming
As my breath leaves me,
Ripples on the Surface
As I go underneath.

Deep in the Sea

The sand glitters
Pears glistening
Hidden wonders sparkle
Running through my hands.

Deep in the Sea

Blue is no longer blue
Shades of black and purple
Begin to seep through
And confuse my vision.

Deep in the Sea

Calls from creatures
Songs from sirens
Rushing of water
Reverberate inside me.

Deep in the Sea

I lose sense of me
Becoming nothing
Yet still something
As I float aimlessly.



© Sofia Villagrana 2020
Daksh Sep 2019
It was time.
A spectacle was yet to take place
Exploring other worlds were always facinating to me
A footprint we left, every step it took was the sign that life exists.

We were like little trinkets, parts of stars that followed the rover from behind and took our fractions of amazingness of the universe.

It was the universe that broke you.
- This poem is about the opportunity rover
- The rover went to sleep on February 13, 2019
Ash Jul 2018
You
You know when you get the whisper of a melody in your head,
Or just that murmur of a song,or poem that you just have to write,
That gut feeling you get that it could be something amazing,
That's exactly  what I feel when am with you,
Euphoria  at it's highest peak.

True this could just be a lust phrase
That will hit hard and leave me seeing stars
True our physical chemistry isn't in question
But lacing fingers in the dark,hot breaths on your neck
Your murmur's "I know its to early but I really really more than like you"say more its like a euphoria drug injection to my heart.

You are like this song in my head,I want to hear more of
The whole song,the whole melody
I want to figure out if this is a song with power
Or one that will fade into history without leaving a mark.
All I know is I want more of this.
Arlene Corwin Nov 2017
I’ll Never Be A Virtuoso
(Notes from a Piano Playing/Singer/Poet)

I’ll never be a virtuoso.
Sure as I’m an expert on
My name, my palm – I know it.
So I ponder as I listen to
Michel Petrucciani on piano,
Joe Pass on guitar,
Wayne Shorter on the tenor -
Am I any less an artist sans finesse
If runs, uneven, coarse run out into the sand?
Of course not.
Never to become a virtuoso is my lot.

But I’ve a lot that’s going for me:
Tempos, energy,
Out-coming spontaneity,
Ongoing creativity, ingoing spirit,
And an awfully cheerful personality;
Gifts and graces I don’t even know about,
Waiting to come out – or out.

Noel Coward wrote: ‘the talent to amuse’....
Perhaps I use that talent,
And there’s nothing wrong with that.

My notes are high while not the highest,
Vocabulary not extensive,
Not the most imaginative;
IQ slightly more superior than Pooh’s:
Who cares?
(That’s not a question but an exclamation).
Never virtuoso, I shall be the one
Who wears her brain upon her sleeve,
Her heart her slave.

Somewhat below, above so-so,
I know I’ll never be a virtuoso.
I can live with that.

I’ll Never Be A Virtuoso 5.21.2014 Vaguely About Music II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Pure Nakedness; Arlene Corwin
An essential life discovery I want to share.
Gabriel burnS Nov 2017
they say there is no other life
but here inside this body
here within this skull
measured by the goodbyes
of countless nows
but to me there is
yes, outside this box
on the blank sheet
seemingly flat
endlessly deep
in infinite dimensions
SQUID Aug 2017
Take a BITE from this map,
See where it leads you....
Nowhere places...!
From taste, to taste.
Sally A Bayan Dec 2016
On days, when time is going too fast,
I can't catch up, and there're things i can't get past,
I'd pull a chair at the verandah....just sit there
To witness, the gentler goings on in life...
See, how...why  all plants face towards the sun,
On a dimly lit corner, watch a spider patiently spin its web,
Underneath the gravel and green grass, somehow,
The earthworm, painstakingly, bravely emerges,
Finds its way out of the soil...to remind us,
"...soil is healthy....it's time to plant!"
:::::
I feel, the beetle knows me, as it inches on,
Carrying its own body, crawling down the pine tree,
I won't ever grasp it, nor tie a string on its body
To control its range of movement,
As we do to tethered beasts of burden...
:::::
While sitting there, i decide: by all means,
Towards the flower ***, i  lean
Take time to smell a rose, feel its rough leaf
Not just a quick touch and sniff
But hold its thorny body, without daring to blink
While deep within, i'd let its fragrance sink
:::::
Some early evenings
When the cicadas' music are echoing
And the moths have started flying
Circling round the light at the ceiling,
I am warned...soon, it will be raining
And.....when it starts to rain, i keep listening
Til i'm soothed by the sound of rain...falling,
From sky to treetops.....flowing...landing
Next to the leaves......cascading down
To the concrete ground
Spreading quickly, far and deep...and as fate,
As nature would have it....the soil, without fail, waits...
:::::
Long time ago, we were small,
Curious and brave, we tasted glory, and all,
Armed with a child's innocence
And an insatiable hunger for learning...
Our eyes, our minds dilated,
Our brains were like sponge...
Like the soil.....we absorbed
All, that we discovered...
:::::

Sally

Copyright December 1, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
(Once in a while, we can be a child....right?)
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