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A M Ryder Aug 2019
Hours of childhood
Impatient, with nothing but
Playing by ourselves
Enchanted with
what alone endures

Between world and toy
A point which shows a child
Who they really are

Who sets in constellations
And puts distance
In his death
Thorns Apr 2019
Have you ever seen something that you've seen a million times?
And still feel amazed, nearly enchanted by it
The sounds, the color, the life, and people
Every time, you're filled with wonder
You can't take your eyes off of it
It's wonderful
Wonder filled
Julia Apr 2019
Peering beyond the understory:
a Victorian *******
of square topiaries
white pavement
marbled fringe,
the visionary leaps
into the crisp chlorine
freezing in an iceblock
if she remains til she is grey.

But she crawls out
of this boxed madness,
emotional baggage
forcefully drilled into Her womb.
She emerges from a pond
in a wooded world remote
yet available to all who seek it.
An unsure path
to the cottage
where the witch works her wondrous magic
bringing birds and butterflies
to aid in potion incantations
She mows no lawns.
She knows the name of every leaf and berry.
She sows them in her sleep
thanks for reading :)
Katlyn Orthman Jan 2019
The humming rush of water
Is hypnotizing me
The songs of lonely birds
All perched on separate trees

The soft rattling
The brush of vibrant leaves
All pull a string that's deeply
Planted in the roots of me

Chiming along
I am a lonely bird
Perched upon a tree
Where no one sees

Crying out
I sing with the clouds
Wings lifted
Ready to flee

Tentatively brush dark leaves
With muster I push on to see
Where this overgrown path
will lead

Lungs filled
Intoxicated
On the fresh
Breeze.

So drawn I push forward
What do I see
But a small part
Of what appears to be me

I step forward
One more time
I am longing
To see

Where this
Path
Will
Lead

Do I continue
Will I succeed
Do I push forward
Do I proceed

Am I lost inside
This lonely forest
Do I hide
Where no one sees

Do I wait alone
Where the silence lulls me
to hypnotic tones

Of lonely birds shown
perched upon a tree
Aravind Shanavaz Oct 2018
Isn’t it obvious ?
The way I try.
Words I speak and more to be.
Smiles and compliments I give,
In just a futile attempt.

When I try to mend,
The possibility for love.
When my eyes speak,
Of my late night dreams.
You move like the wind,
Your hair like a river.
The shape of your lips,
I’m intrigued. Such grace !
Sculpted you feel,
To my strange eye.
Just a sight of perfection,
A marvel maybe.

You’re imperfect yet so perfect.
I feel. Enchanted.
I could reach out,
Touch your face.
So close yet so far away.

Now such a deep wound I have.
Trying to heal itself,
With false beliefs and hope
That one day in another life,
We could be together as one.
I write when I feel sad .
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