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Jay M Oct 15
A feather


To the ground
C r a c k i n g
the ice
Of a long frozen river

Below the frigid surface
Lies a long dormant creature
Stirred from their slumber
Once more to rise

- Jay M
September 24th, 2020
Don't remember what the true meaning was, it's been sitting in my drafts. Tell me, what do you make of it?
Jay M Oct 13
When it comes to love,
This heart is on lockdown
No more to be free as a dove

See me now,
A feather drifting in a case
A petal encased in glass

Hear me now,
My voice a drifting note
My cries of deepest lament

Don't ask me
To set it free
Or it will only end in

- Jay M
October 13th, 2020
Some think I have feelings for a friend of mine, when the fact remains that I don't. My romantic feelings are on lockdown, and I'm uninterested anyway.
annh Sep 7
I am sand - drifting formlessly, settling briefly;
dusting edges traced clean by housekeeping’s judicious forefinger.

I am sand - black with iron and ****** wrath;
shattering glassily against a wine-stained ceiling.

I am sand - my trespasses turned to pearl;
rippled and flurrying, wedged between sandal-clad toes.

I am sand - porous with desire yet disarmed by possibility;
a fortress on the brink of invasion by the sea.

I am sand - recalled to the desert, claggy with melancholy;
a loping caravan of travail, westward bound.

I am sand - measureless and infinitely uncontainable;
sifting from hour to hour...and life to life.

‘While he mused on the effect of the flowing sands, he was seized from time to time by hallucinations in which he himself began to move with the flow.’
- Kōbō Abe
Eva Jul 21
The lid of a stained glass bottle,
leaves a burning sensation in my palm.
What was I hoping for?
Surely, this message will wrinkle-
my painful words silently drifting away.
And all that'd be left was my starving soul,
craving to be found one day.
Millie Jul 13
It feels right
Never a fight
Just a thief in the night
Stole our love
Made a space
A distance filled by his face
And the fame that you chase
For the hole
In your heart
When this barrier had its start
But your mother never saw
All the things beneath my scars
Her view marred by the way that I once fell apart
River May 14
I'm just a little afraid
That forever will end
And our love fades to dim
And the spark gets cold
As we grow
Knowing we are both still in love
But the fun of our love dies
And we drift away
Into the ocean of tears
Built by our hearts
Because we didn't care enough
To fight for each other
The effort needed to make
Was to much
So instead it toppled our undeniable love
And further away we go
As the waves carry us on
Ignoring the drift wood to build a boat
old willow May 8
You ask for where my destination is,
I smile, but not answer,
My heart is at leisure.

A man on his boat,
Just like an immortal.
His melodic aged voice sung,
“Up is heaven, down is earth,
Where the wind blows,
Is where I go.”
She still can't comprehend
How the space between them
Once measured in fingertips
Must now be calculated
In light years
My palms in my pockets jingle
the keys to my cave as I make
my way to wherever I’m going.
My legs propel me, and my feet
dodge cast-off gum and dog dung.

And on my head rests a fishbowl.

An extra load on my skull,
but I don’t mind. I rather
like this bowl. It gives me
a barrier, and though thin,
the glass has yet to crack.

I hear my voice resound,
bouncing around the tiny
space, and I smell my breath,
minty fresh and foggy, and
through the fog the world and
its creatures are phantoms.

When I’m addressed, it’s like
floating in frigid freshwater
as they call for me from
the sheet of ice above.
They suspect I’ve lost
my soul in the fishbowl,
yet as year after year
goes by, I feel just fine.

I am an astronaut taking
a space walk, drifting around
and watching the universe
unfold under a sheet of glass.

And when I close my eyes,
I am in a womb, or a coffin,
and I often can’t tell the
difference, nor find much
of a reason to tell.

by Aleksander Mielnikow
If you want to hear me read this poem aloud, check out my Instagram @alekthepoet !
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