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M Solav May 2020
You want to be manipulated,
you like it this way,
to be robbed from your agency,
to be imprisoned deliberately.

And in the sandbox play as you will,
With known constraints
And known space to fill.

You want it altered just so enough
As to tell things apart,
But to be told where they belong,
Hinted at what’s right or wrong.

And in the new stuff find exhilaration ,
But newness is old news;
Just give them the passion.
Written in May 2020.

— Copyright © M. Solav —

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact for usage requests. Thank you.
Anya Sep 2018
Now whenever I think back
to that feeling which has
almost completely been erased from my memory
I wonder

Was the feeling
that he was there waiting for me
that any moment I’d be in his grip
in his claws

I’d be helpless

That was the worst part
no one else
even if there were, they weren’t any better off

Just me
in a solitary
state of terrified numbness
so caught up in the moment

Then there was no time
to think logically
and see it for what it was

As I can do now
as much as I am relieved to be freed from the dreadful mindless panic
There is a part of me that feels it’s loss
Andreas Simic Sep 2017
A Mid Summers Day©

It is the perfect summer’s day
The suns warmth on my face
The lake calm as glass on a table
I sit there bobbing like a piece of driftwood

The lapping of water a serenade to peacefulness
The call of a loon nearby
The thumbs up
The deafening roar and ever so more

Every muscle in my body now tense
The knees bent and arms extent
I am propelled forward like a missile
The defining moment arrived, shall I fail or survive

At first I waiver like a giraffe’s first steps into life
The wind sweeps back my hair
The summer heat flushes my face
Like a blow dryer working its pace

Now I glide effortlessly as if standing on water
The shoreline passing at ever increasing speed
Exhilaration is now my need
Round and round we go as if in slow mo

Then once again my legs do go quiver
Adrenalin has met its match as exhaustion arrives
One minute on water the next I’m in
To shore, a beer, a smile and maybe a grin

Life of a water skier

Andreas Simic©
lexy jensen Apr 2016
Fear wakes you up.
My arms scrape the branches as I climb.
I feel the dry earth beneath my feet.
Never more excited, never more afraid.

The blossoms dance down,
And I can feel the heat as I tremble,
Imagining the jump.

The ravens taunt me-
They say I won’t do it.
Maybe I won’t.
But then I would miss the joy of falling.

My wild, blonde curls
Get snagged in the trees- ow!
It will be worth it.
I remind myself it will.

Little critters squeal at me,
Some in encouragement, some not.
I reach for the comfort of my fluffy pillow,
Who isn’t there.

I’ve reached the top.
I can touch the sky.
Violet, blue, yellow, orange.
The perfect mix.

I’ve forgotten my fear, my worries.
I am invincible.
It’s just me, the cliff, the water, the sky.

As I walk to the edge, I feel soft grass
Beneath my feet.
There is still some of the morning’s dew
Though that was so long ago.

Now, ***** and wet,
I carefully walk to the edge.
In, out.
In, out.

Do it, I tell myself.
So I do.
I jump.

I have to say-
the best part is falling.
For just a moment, I feel free again-
Not scared. Then everything floods back.

I thrash and scream-
Then I’m in the water.
Swimming, breathing.

I’ve conquered the cliff-
And the jump.
And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that
fear wakes you up.
The brand new sun
Fresh from the vacation
In clouds and cold

Taking out the bike
Raising the seat to accommodate
New height

Riding down the smooth hill
Zooming so fast
That you can’t hear someone yell your name

Feeling the wind whip your hair
Your shirt, pants
Legs, arms and face

Seeing a car and coming to a soft stop
Lazily turning around -- heading back up the hill
And doing it all over again
Kathleen Feb 2016
I've been nervous all day
and finally-
at the end of the day
I love it.

I guess I'm not as 'above it' as I wanted to be.
I'm sure my mother could see this more clearly-
than me.

But the butterflies in my stomach have now morphed into an odd satisfaction
I guess I just wanted the action-
after all.

It's all for the greater good,
and shouldn't I-
be proud of that.
KL Taguiam Dec 2015
Our bodies sway to the music,
on the slick wooden floor.

Our hands clasped together,
in this melody,
our feet draws intricate patterns,
as beautiful as the galaxies
in the expanse
of the cosmos,
on the slick wooden floor.

Our hearts beat faster,
and faster,
blood rushing in
our veins,
our breath mists
as we feel our energies
ebb away.

Our bodies exposed
to each other,
each fingertips,
embedded on our
heated skin.

Our bodies touching,
our hips swaying
to the music
as we dance on the
slick wooden floor.

Our sweat drops,
our clothes crumpling,
as we dance along
on the slick wooden floor.

Our senses tingles,
becoming sensitive,
to each other;
each touch,
each whispers,
each exhalation,
everything within us,
are enjoined.

We move
in sync
with the tempo
of the music,
on the
slick wooden floor.

The exhilaration
of this dance,
will forever
be remembered.
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