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Nat Lipstadt Mar 2
“This Insubstantial Pageant Faded”
(spoke by Prospero, The Tempest, by W. Shakespeare)^

<>
Our words are all actors,

a long run, run its course,
our long playing record,
scratched, love~worn to
worn out extremity, yet
yeoman service did offer,
extreme only in magical
transforming plain sight
into visions, a legacy,
bent gray, tarnished by
weary wearing aging,
their brief sparks now
but reclamation flares of
burst lights of waning days
in short lived tastings of what
was and can be nevermore

everyone’s magic has its preset
timed timing, and with
every day, each a concentric
ring marked and hallowed,
a heartbeat ring narrower
than its predecessor,
a shallower hollow,
a fair represent of both
all that came our way, and that
we resent with no resentment
into a cloud capped atmosphere
for all to ****** from a flailing,
flying breeze, their brief gleam,
multiplying, thus envisaging,
illuminating the manuscript of our
hinted future forward’s next percept


“And like
this insubstantial pageant faded
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep”
^
Prospero’s speech at the end of
, The Tempest, by William Shakespeare

Sabbath
March 2 2024
8:22am
The years are running cold
Like sand through your finger holes
Like cents in your old jacket getting lost in the pocket folds
Stilling hemmed to the edge of a jaded crown
To get praise from a faded crowd
Trading being right for the right to be loud
Tell me where are all your glories now
Just a clown with an open mouth
In a house where the lights are out
Raven Feels Jul 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, have a great July!


goodness is virtue
rage is essence when realization is new
hearts entrenched
them those called sensations melted a bench

memories tainted in dark
reminiscent somewhere in the background park
violins ached for the winter sky
on a hope it would just snow the ghosted July

their flesh burnt
mercurial whispers churned a hurt
dilapidates already fallen
feels of away returned from the stolen

wise in me I confess
to not believe a belong is a bless
visions confuse
perplexed deprived of a twinkle muse

my pen writes
then paper welcomes once and thrice
orchestra chimes
in time to spill the wine

                                                                                           ------ravenfeels
Marisela Veludo May 2021
In my arms you smiled
We laughed and cried
In my arms you shared
We understood we cared
In my arms I had your touch
Made me want you so much
In my arms we grew
We saw everything through
In my arms you were my strength
I felt special and content
In my arms you were loved
In my arms you faded... 🙁
In my heart you are alive
Memories with you will always survive
If we lay in a field of grass
I will still love you
As I look at the stars
And you'll be up there

I on Earth far away
Writing this poem
So, distant from you
You will be so close too

In the crevice of my heart
In the lines of this poem
I shall grant you a space
In songs, books, and art

You flee like a rainbow after showers
And I still remember you in those little things
Even though my poem won't feel the same
But, in our memories we are still in that field

In the grass, carefree and restless
Youngsters looking at the sparrows so far apart
That the clouds can almost fit into the picture
Ah yes, the cloudy sky, the rusted leaves, and that old shack

But, I am uncertain of my memory
You are no longer there to correct me
There must have been a tire swing, my heart knows
I may not remember much, my mind is old

But, the puddles on this sunlit street
Have they gotten bigger or I older?
Unable to jump over them
Like an agile fox

And as I part my hair like you once did affectionately
I keep saying old habits die hard
But, why do
People always leave?
I posted this poem on Facebook and asked people to suggest a title.
One alternative I used for another poem. And I have one in reserve.
Seems like random friends are better at coming up with attractive titles than I am. Like what?
FC Azaele May 2021
I am a memory
Once lived through, but now no more.
A memory,
that is what I am.
Like fragments of another;
The dust that floats around —
Had they suppressed me?
or mold them to what they are?
Perhaps they’ll leave a sigh at my door,
finding my faded scent...

I am simply nothing but a memory
Once lived through
But now..
No more
Zoe N Feb 2021
a simple memory, so fragile & could be forgotten
it seems so long ago that we were there,
riding bikes in the dusty air of summertime,
along the empty streets, & once in a while
the dogs would bark as we passed,
angry to be awoken from their summertime slumber.

lying on top of so much history, so many stories,
buried forever in the tall grass & sunflowers
that waved in the breeze as we passed.
you're still there, aren't you?
waiting, watching for me to return, &
for me to remember who I am.

sunset, lighting up the whole world
those sunflowers glowing crimson & gold,
and in the last moments before the sun disappeared,
they hold on to a moment of time,
a reminder of those summer days.


in the middle of a town where people rush around day & night,
in the middle of all those modern buildings, modern people, modern world
you still wait for me to remember; in all the golden splendor,
in the simple fragility of your untouched world,
you wait for us to remember those summer days
that are now only memories, faded and almost forgotten.

Wait for me. I'll come back.
Any feedback welcome :) @Copyright 2021 Zoe N
Kaliya Skye Nov 2020
is my mood ring broken?
or did i forget what it felt like
to know you?

i often wonder if i've numbed to it all,
but maybe my heater just stopped working.

all the same, i've forgotten the sound
of my name on your lips,
the air passing through, like a parting kiss.

so why let it be spoken at all?

is my mood ring broken?

all i'm feeling is small.
my phone screams, but there is no voice
even the silence burns my ears nowadays.
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