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n-khrennikov Sep 2018
Love releases hidden meaning. As long as I live and breathe, breathe and breathe out. If it’s written, if it’s worth it, it will be in my life.
n-khrennikov
Dian Eka Mar 2018
To Kiss a Picture of You in Mind
To Have a Dialogue Turns Into Monologue
It is All in My Prologue Scenery
Before Bedtime
The Epilogue Says
"Distance, my Dear....."
https://www.instagram.com/lustforwords86/
Anne Scintilla Dec 2017
Stepping through
come along
with the light
spring paintings.

Time slips by
framed
with the vivid
saturated films.

The void you left
was filled
with the best
sad stories.

Your being
Is art.
this is the context of Un-Muse. a prologue that came to me as an epilogue, i guess life isn’t always linear.
I was chasing down a cyclone - but I ended up chasing you.
We danced in the humid air of June, reckless, shirtless, barefoot and all.
You said, “I’ll never forget you”, I was trying to give you all the clues.
Was there something else we should have done?
More than the cigarettes we burned,
More than all the restless pages we turned,
More than the kisses we shared,
More than the arguments we made.
Was there something else we should have been?
More than the home we was for each other
More than the safe-zone, more than the surrender,
More than the fantasy, more than it all?

We watched the sun rise and fall, as our chest did the same
Together we painted words on each other’s skin
And turned our backs to the noise of the world
We once were there, at the corner
We once were there, our eyes: both reflecting desire
We once were there, tracing shapes in the dark
We once were there, frolicking with our home-grown euphoria.

And tell me you remember it all, the way my eyelashes tickled your face
Tell me you know it too well, how our coffee tasted when we were sleepless.
Tell me how all those memories are kept, tell me I am not forgotten.
Meg B Feb 2017
How long does it take
for the urge to fade?

I still
search for shelter in your
words and phrases

but there is nothing more written
on those pages.
Lunar Aug 2016
[2:05a.m.]

reality hits you. no, it kisses you a good night. but you can not forget it.

it can not leave your head-- the way he held your hand, or rather the way you grasped onto his;

the way you tried to speak but panicked, or rather the way your mind figured out a thousand ways to freeze that moment in time;

the way he looked at you, or rather, the way his look was just like any other look he gave to the previous and to the next.

it was inevitable. you knew this day would come. you would thank him with no words but just that grasp on his hand, that he made you realize that you have learned to love and can love a person this much. you know you will continue to love him, but not in the same way, and he definitely won't be the person you will love as much as right now.

and the time has finally concluded: he isn't the one for you.
i would like to say this is the IV and truly final part of "The Meeting", i suppose. and i'm telling you, love is painful, but love, in one way, will always bear its fruit.

ajk x ljh

I: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1576037/him/
II: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1576052/her/
III: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1577155/them/
Shayla Ahrns Jun 2016
If you took dirt and leaves
River water, old dust on books,
Tears, bold coffee, mossy green,
Yellow love,
And all of the questions
On life and love and maybe even God and pain and whatever makes you
wonder why you end up in a bed alone with him
Or why he ended up here with you;
Fear, aches, wasted time,
Lavender, dusk, another one...another
Shake all of this up with sunsets, hope, failure, cravings, light, a list of things you never put your faith into...
It makes you into this person who has done wrong and loved gentle and loved hard...
Became soft, rooted herself
Became fire from water
Shouted thank you's to loneliness and cheersed a sky raining down
Stood tall and held her own
James Gable Jun 2016
|PART THREE|
THE EMPTY SECOND
BECOMES AN
EMPTY SPACE

When it’s all over
forget about courtesy,
grab hold off a shooting star
and ride it all the way
until the photons say the
last word with a pulse of light



The man is no longer doubled over and
Observable from the window
As a result of his fifty-eight years
the equation of his life
All comes to zero
Whilst the mocking ticking and tocking
Of an old clock knocking minutes like
Nails into the wall—

He disappeared in a puff of smoke,
The ice in his glass melted and the woman picked it up,
Drinking it in a single gulp, the glass comes down as if
Magnetically drawn to the floor, the floor,
Where she lies silently and stretches her body
To get some release, she rubs her face against
The carpet, nothing matters except the next second,
Eyes, behind a blink or two, dart to another part of the empty room
She couldn’t think any further ahead than a second at all

And the zodiac crashed open
the ram sent stars flying
the crab snipped the string that suspended the stars
mars took some flak
and finally the sun was burst
by the horned goat
and aquarius held it
like the final fluid sphere

Stars, burning across the sky like the striking of a match
Those wishing on shooting stars
couldn’t decide what they wanted
many of them flying as there were

As well-known monsters
Weighed down by human hope,
clear out our night sky,
Leaving not a freckle to observe
Telescopes now point into bedroom windows
Shadows portray a sort of life,
Shadow puppets depict death through
Tragedy and lapses in timekeeping and
Obsessions with vanity

Life spends some empty second
Inside your lungs,
Continues on it’s way
To resuscitate a slowly fading knife attack victim
Or shake the hand of a minute,
Time is ticking laboriously by

The light, motherless and lost,
Spat out at as the sun was burst,
It looks up to see
the unveiling of the universe,
Finally,

the oyster swallowed the sea.




*—I didn’t want to be a poet by any means. After what happened working on the lifeboats I couldn’t go near the sea, so in a way I chose which parts of it I wanted and wrote about them. It terrifies me and fascinates me at the same time. I fully believe I will return to it only as ash...
Part Nine (3) of The Man Who Longed to be an Oyster
Addie D Apr 2016
Monologue
I started tonight;
Monologue -
it was alright.
I knew I was right
to want to
**** the light.

Dialogue -
the peak of the night.
I saw you on the coast,
Delight
it brought to you
to sit and watch me
suffer as I ignite.

Epilogue
had been brought.
But what
epilogue
to the tragedy?
Epilogue
of mine, ended that night.
Dawn of Lighten Feb 2016
He stood on the "Endless Bridge" in Guthrie Theater,
And looked onward at the old abandon mill district of Minneapolis.

The crescent moon ascended to the glimmer of the city lights
As the nature of the wind pulled his hair back to shed his hidden soul.

The Mississippi River clash against the pavements of the dam,
And the moist from the river felt through the air on the pours of the skin.

Neon lights of the 35W reminded the contemporary architect of modern city,
But the old mill district had it's ever so present among the modern buildings.

In that silence she walked down the aisle from the theater entry onto the balcony,
The silent graceful walk even in heels like a prey of the jungle,
There she stood next to him to reach her arm around his.

He glanced onto her face matching his eyes to her's,
And she pulled the most warm honest smile of innocence.

Upon his gaze upon her dark glistened navy blue dress,
With golden neckless he gave her as their anniversary gift,
And pearl earring illuminated the moon light of nightly beauty.

"You look majestic," barely able to mutter as he faced her side by side,
And his back against the solid balcony wall.
As title implies, this is the scene in screen write's epilogue.
To those people who are new to Minneapolis area, here is bit of description from a well known news source.   http://twincitiestourguide.com/2008/09/20/stop-4-the-guthrie-theater-innovative-exciting-blue/
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