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Kira Botkina Jun 20
How sweet it feels — to dream
Of a life that will never be.
To melt into shallow visions,
Like sugar lost in boiling tea.
To drift through fictions, soft and kind,
And sleepwalk through a phantom age,
Escaping life, escaping time —
A coward locked inside a cage.

He lives a hundred borrowed lives,
A hundred fates, a hundred lies.
He feeds his narrow, timid mind
With scenes where no true sorrow lies.
They’re sweeter than the bitter truth,
More gentle than the world outside —
Where life is raw, and sharp, and cruel,
And none of us are free to hide.

So let him drown in pretty dreams,
In fogs of comfort, safe and still.
He trades the weight of honest pain
For hollow joys that never will
Become a life — just phantom plays
Projected in a vacant head,
While real tears are left uncried,
And real battles left for dead.
A M Ryder Jun 19
This is the great trial
Of being alive
Right now

It is necessary
for all of us
to view ourselves
accurately
in the pre
Apocalypse

And yet
because of this
it is also
absolutely vital
to imagine
and work
and dream
of a world
that is different
Shiva Chauhan Jun 17
I had a dream, I wonder why,
It was you, yes you,
Though veiled in fog,
I knew, it was you,
Felt real, felt warm, felt love,
because it was you.

Hmmmm, you were humming,
made me sleepy,
Your aroma made me feel at home,
The green jacket suits you, your smile suits you,
You came closer to me,
and yes, it was you.

I heard you say my name, the nickname,
You looked me in the eyes,
I wonder why I cried,
I wanted to hug you, but I couldn't,
It was a dream, but I'm sure it was you.

It's a song, sung for you.
A dreamy and emotional poem about seeing a loved one in a dream, soft, warm, and real. Though just a dream, the feelings linger, making it a heartfelt song of longing and love.
Pauvel Jétha Jun 17
We were walking, the painter and I,
Across the plain and towards the hill.
The moon had waxed into her glory
Causing the zephyrs to sigh.

We rested awhile at the foot of the rise
Nestled in a comfortable silence.
The night moved on languid feet
Passion hidden under a serene guise.

We took the path on the dark leeward
My golden quill our only light.
The painter promised a spectacle
And anticipation fueled my climb

Cherry Blossoms swirled in the wind,
As we stood on silver bathed ground.
A man stood at the edge of the hill,
His hands on the railing, waiting.

Under the tree he stood.
The flowers hiding the wrinkles
Of his suit and his skin.
His gaze fixed upon the moon.

My friend and I sat against a boulder
And waited with him.
The wind whispered with the flowers
And the Sakura tree sang to the night.

The song was impossible,
Yet hear it we did.
Violins and keys, flutes and harps -
A haunting tune of longing.

And as the song rose,
A woman stood beside the man;
A bride clad in a moonlight gown,
Her veil of starshine trailing behind.

The man took her hand,
And the woman drew closer.
And groom and bride,
They danced among the flowers.

Wrinkles were smoothened
Trembling hands strengthened
Faltering feet trode sure
And wilting heart bloomed anew.

Happiness perfused the air.
Cruelly brief the phenomenon would be -
So the man knew, and chose to forget.
He held on to the past and danced.

We sat there, intruders and fools,
Too ashamed to look on,
Too enthralled to look away,
Until sleep hid them from our eyes.

The melody rains with the petals,
Tears dance with the smiles.
The waltz of the weary hearts
Lasts as long as the moon.
Inspired by the song 'Dearest' by Ayumi Hamasaki
An old man, he once told me,
'Bout a place the mind could see.

About a land of sound and color,
Where I'd finally be free.

And he took me on a journey;
Showed me things the eyes
Can't see,

Taught me lessons that would
Come in dreams,
And follow life with me.

And when I climbed
Atop my mountain,
The horizon greeted me,

And I realized that I had
Closed my eyes
To the beauty before me.

And now, at night,
I see the stars, and I can smile
And reminisce,

And I remember that old man,
Who taught me things
I might've missed.
A short poem about an old hippie who was my first trip guide. Acid saves, man. And the changes of brings can be the most positive you may feel.
Piyush Jun 15
A heart that desires nothing,
Now loses on empty evening,
It loses everything.
Brick by brick,
It breaks you completely.
Write it quick,
And leave the world discreetly.

Easy you go there,
Where nothing is pleasing,
A disturbed mind — strangely appeasing.
Bigger the talk, lesser the thing,
The last wish could be a walk,
Or it could be a ring.

Answer the questions,
Play it with skills.
What is obsession?
Don't count all the kills.
Far and far it is —
The world you miss.

Rise and rise,
Yet you don’t climb.
The harder the fall,
The harsher will be the rhyme.
Yashkrit Ray Jun 14
Saw this place somewhere
Oh! It was my golden dream
Now the dream haunts me
There are some places where you cannot go even if you want to because of the people or yourself.
Damocles Jun 14
In a whisper
Is how I’ll go,
Further drifting
Static as snow.

The less that they know,
The more honor I’ll keep,
Dragging my last thoughts
Into an endless last sleep.

Don’t break the glass
I don’t want to wake,
No matter the violence of your shake
Let me rest, let me stay.

In a whisper,
The last words carried
Kissing your ears by way of zephyr
This is how I’ll go,
Further drifting,
Static as snow.

As dreams start to fade
Replaced with the infinite black
Silence echoes memories
Like ghosts haunting holographic.

Catch the syncopated beats
As my heart drums to a stop.
A beat for your heart strings
Now play the music to send me off
A reverie of soft melodies
As you lower me, under the oak trees.

In a whisper,
Under canopies
Is how I’ll go,
Will you remember me?
You ever have a dream that you’re going to die? I did and before I go back tk bed I had to write it out.
In a land older than history
mystics gather
seeking nirvana
Haiku
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