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Eloisa Jun 16
Like Japanese iris,
she shines with raindrops in the sun.
A blossoming grace in silence.
A new butterfly in flight.
Elymaïs May 24
When my Father was a youth,
— he recalled to me how he
Remembers when all the children
Of the villages and hills
Moved away to the city.
He said that he could walk
Forty kilometres down to town
On abandoned farms alone.

Today I drive the same route
And pass the dilapidated houses
And overgrown fields and lots;
I wonder if the empty windows
Ever miss the ones who left?
Steve Page May 21
A pick up at Gatwick
at way past midnight
is a glimpse into the void
tempered only by the joy
and delight of family
reunited
The things you do for family
Zywa Mar 22
War: I run away,

then it steals the sounds I have --


not taken with me.
"Alleen jij zal mij horen blond meisje" ("Only you will hear me blond girl", 2015, Ali Şerik)

Collection "VacantVoid"
A sensitive
little white
flower,
opens
her
petals
by the
opening
of lunar
light,
seeking
to heal
others
as they
lie in their
dreams, she
whispers
to them
within
their
hearts,
“hear 
these
words, 
and 
allow 
me 
to take 
care 
of you, 
allow my 
petals to 
heal your 
wounds, 
I will gently 
touch your 
tears and 
dissolve 
them 
within 
my own
heart”
the soft
wind
tousles
her, the
painted
one
touched
upon the
flowers
heart,
“tell
me the
secret
to flight”
the fragile
one asked,
it flew
again
into the
nightly
hour,
she felt
a dew,
she
looked
up, it
was the
florist,
who
sung
to her,
“the
secret
is love,
where
it is,
there
is flight”
I glimpse something fleeting
On the stage behind your eyes
A dancer leaping from wing to wing
Sure footed in one motion
Yet stumbling into the next

The corners of your lips flutter
Butterflies ready to take flight
Held hostage in your nets
Sitting in wait of their freedom
Yearning to show their colors

©KNL
fata organa (n.) a flash of real emotion glimpsed in someone sitting across from you
*From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows*
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2021
~
Windsong breeze
Playing to the tune of migration
Flight of the Arctic tern
Pushing the boundaries
For greater hemispheres
Internal clocks sound a message though
It is indeed time to go
To wing forth in formation
As they were designed to do
Their wanderlust tempered
By an annual returning

~
Norman Crane Sep 2021
heart beating // beating
wings lift me and flight begins
bare feet above ground
the world receding / the world
beginning [...] to appear small.
Norman Crane Aug 2021
birds switch direction
against the sky, the flock turns
black ink on grey clouds
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