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Nika J Nov 2020
Tasteless, tacky, out of place
Motionless, outdated, dusty
Ugly, pretty, vibrant
Dark, serene, broken
Words set to destroy or rebuild that in which is beautiful
Catch the words desired by the rush you feel that day
Bottled up by darkened souls
Let out as cries by lightened hearts
Happiness, sadness both standing at two intervals
Casting, accepting both standing parallel
Both small and big make up the very world we reside in
But it is within the eyes what
Who are we?
Human, existing, breathing
What are they?
Animals, Plants, Objects
Don't lose your sight
Become blind to that in which you hear
For the moment you cannot see
With the senses of every being
You will lose what it means to be a different
We must all come to realize that everyday we walk this earth we are nothing more than figures. Different, beautiful, we exist as one. Have you figured it out yet?
Ana Oct 2020
I've always preferred finding out what time it was by looking at the watches of strangers,
Preferably on a morning carriage where the forgotten time difference from fading holidays meet the eternally shaken bracelets
Strangers, on their way to an oversized office smelling like old tea and leftover birthday cake.

My eyes, moving from one being to the next,
wondering if they woke up in their own bed.
Disparate attires or obedient consumerism, smells of cologne and *****, unironed shirts and loose ties,
Remains of a night too quickly ended or of a morning that started off wrong.
Strangers, burning the courage to face the dread of small talk talk and mindless tasks.

A half hour turnover of faces, smells and stories,
Strangers, unknowingly sharing their lives with me.
Summer Oct 2020
numbers & figures are
nothing more than a flicker
of the winter chimney's smoky snicker;
fleeting as the sad beggar's liquor &
grandmother's empty wicker
chair, rocking with the gentle gale
breezing past rootless weeds
to settle on the frozen well —
Farewell, numbers & figures.
Sometimes I think I'm too fixated on numbers & figures, so this is a poem to remind myself not to be so caught up with them because 1. they do not define me and 2. they are as fickle as a breeze, might as well stop caring so much on fleeting things.
Jay M Mar 2019
I sing myself a quiet lullaby,
The melody haunting,
I stand wraith-like in the moonlight,
My flesh paler than my ashen soul,
"Just a little while longer..."
Comes my cry,
My hand extended to an unseen figure,
In their own so terrible,
Bringing me to life with a look in the eyes,
So beautiful, reflecting that gentle soul,
"Come back to me, dear one",
I call, but all is silent.

- Jay M
February 21st, 2019
karly codr Jul 2020
I don't remember the last time
I was able to write.

Words flowing on the pages,
Page after
                Page after
                                Page after

Words that I can relate to
Figures of myself,
Painted into the lives
Of characters,
Made to represent who I
Would like to be
Guys, I started writing again! Like stories! And the characters aren't depressed! I think I might finally be getting better!
Traveler Jul 2020
Challenge Thomas Case
from a historical figure's viewpoint.

(Pay no attention to the little man behind the curtains)

All my great inventions
An Emerald City of true paradise
An eye in the sky that watches all...
At the labor of the Munchkins
The city thrives on and on
  The four winds carry my famous name
The great and most powerful OZ!

There was ones a great disturbance
A march upon my precious city
The yellow brick road of evil
The Witches of all directions raised
Dorothy and her posy had arrived

Why can't they understand
I protect this kingdom
From the dangers of the outsiders
And the opinions of those unwelcome here in Oz!

But then it happened
Nothing would ever be the same
The Munchkins revolted
Red ruby glass slippers some witch made
Would over power my dictatorship

The Munchkins now ruling their selves
In league with some race of monkey elves
Left me no choice
So I returned to Kansas
Just behind Dorothy and her confounded little dog Toto

I joined the mighty Canaveral for a short spell
Still there and everywhere
Again and again evil dwelt among men
So beware
Until this day I still fight for the small people

                         W. Oz
Misty morning, clouds in the sky
Without warning, the wizard walks by
Casting his shadow, weaving his spell
Funny clothes, tinkling bell
Never talking
Just keeps walking
Spreading his magic
Evil power disappears
Demons worry when the wizard is near
He turns tears into joy
Everyone's happy when the wizard walks by
Never talking
Just keeps walking
Spreading his magic
Sun is shining, clouds have gone by
All the people give a happy sigh
He has passed by, giving his sign
Left all the people feeling so fine
Never talking
Just keeps walking
Spreading his magic.

Songwriters: John Osbourne / Terence Butler / Frank Iommi / W.t. Ward

Traveler Tim
Sydney Marie Oct 2019
they use to be just a black cloaked figures

Over Time

they grew faces
Nis Jun 2018
"Manos crispadas me confinan al exilio.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda."

Cuervos negros me prohiben mi alegría.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda.
Armas siniestras, seres aciagos.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda.

Mi muerte se acerca, mi mano se acerca.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda.
Mi pálida reflexión me prohibe la vida.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda.

"Me quieren anochecer, me van a morir.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda."
-"Figuras y silencios" de Alejandra Pizarnik


"Contorted hands confine me to exile.
Help me not to ask for help."

Black ravens forbid me my happiness.
Help me not to ask for help.
Sinister weapons, fateful beings.
Help me not to ask for help.

My death gets closer, my hand gets closer.
Help me not to ask for help.
Mi pale reflection forbids me my life.
Help me not to ask for help.

"They want to night me, they are going to die me.
Help me not to ask for help."
-Extracting the stone of madness, by Alejandra Pizarnik
Segundo poema basado en un texto de  Pizarnik, esta vez de "Figuras y Silencios", espero que os guste!


Second poem based on a text by Pizarnik, this time "Figures and Silences" , hope you like it (and my translation of it).
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