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Henrie Diosa Jul 22
(come on brain, think of things / come on brain, be so smart — lin manuel miranda)

with hollow bones i had been born,
so why their leaden flight?
for others have far heavier borne;
i must be feather-light

in branching paths i loved to wend,
their tangle stuck me fast.
now shorter streets have found their end;
i must be lightning-fast

i write these things to make life rhyme
but cannot see to see
and wonder, wonder, all the time
what must be wrong with me

and they say better late than not,
and better slow than still
while counting anxiously to naught
and asking when i will

i do not know! i do not know!
what little i do ken
is that i go when i can go
and do all that i can

and yet my life in shambles lies
i cannot see to see
with oceans in my tired eyes
what must be wrong with me
spiritual successor to the one about anhedonia. let's see if i can make a symptom trilogy out of this
LC Apr 26
constant companion
that puts me under its spell -
the world falls away.

it scatters my thoughts,
leaving me in a thick fog
until I slam it shut.
Escapril Day 25! Prompt: computer.
Here are my two haikus related to the prompt. Let me know if this resonates with you, and I hope you have a wonderful day.
Himani Dhaka Apr 4
Through the eyes of mine
that glitter and shine
into the fog of nothing
I see arcane paths and a frantic heart

I run away to feel safe and sound
Still the tail follows me around
Frenetic efforts and sleepless nights
Go into the fog of nothing…

When I look around
I see a imperfect past that surround
A flickering that guides
Into the fog of nothing

The pathless woods are eerie
This chanciness so weary
Yet the flickering star would guide
Through the fog of nothing…
Karijinbba Mar 29
His light house amidst
his mystic fog, signals belated
in triumphant decore,
Enamoured with ancient joy
of his blue green dreams
I chant.
“His rod and his staff
comfort me and all surrounding
gore departs.
I breathe in gasping
about my true love.
as he spots my battered
vessel into the wind sailing.
  Ecstasy twinkles his teary eye
   in the magic water dancing glare,
of our mystical full moon light.

For too long I've traveled
jeweled triumphant
yet unable to reach
his promised treasure vaults.

To the greed of legions on
treacherous paths all alone I wept,
through enemy's territories,
but all those from me have fled.

I roamed alone yester woods
I reach his safe private harbour
his peaceful shores.
As trustworthy jeweled queen
regardless of grave loss.

Willfully he reveals his home key
to come open up his door
as photographic memories
on new calming waters
get anchored deep.

At last I shall rest in love
on my bittersweet bed of roses
red, and flowers wild;
   white sad lilies on hand,
saluting my beloved glories
recaptured and retained.

Enduring rhythmic ways
with courage, heart
brain and hope and off my
survival modes into éasier dwelling
  into my grave but neither there
I shall trod alone no more.
By Karijinbba
All rights.
snipes Mar 26
Static in the air
Rain on the windows
Lost without gear
Memories in the rear
Fog in the mirrors
Alone in this ride along
M Solav Mar 22
Paved roads of cars that roam
Are sure to grow weary on my bones.
And there’s a high hill close to home
Onto which I seldom venture alone.
How I recall those many days of yore
When we’d go fresh out in the morn;
And up that hill now far across the globe
Would stare for short eons into the fog.
Written as photopoetry on February 9th, 2022.

— 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.
Gabe Feb 26
All I see is fog right in front of me
I can't see anything clearly enough
to distinct one thing from another

Maybe it is suppose to be like that
We've learned from a very young age
to call things by their name

But sometimes it's something
they don't have
What are we suppose to do then?

I guess just let them be
Simple as that
Anais Vionet Feb 1
We decided to take a walk.
If the moon and stars still existed,
they were hidden behind clouds.

Then a fog hit us like a wave, a cloud
that had run out of gas and crashed on us,
to further shrink the perceptible world.

Ordinary, walking people became vague
phantoms that could loom, in film noir
black and white out of the fog,
suddenly sharpen and colorize,
only to disappear again in moments.

Sounds, out of sync, or garbled, came sharply
from odd angles, turning that fifth sense unreliable.
Noises, at first muted, were abruptly amplified as
if the hand of that ghostly vapor ran a soundboard.

A man, moving in stalker-like silence, clops,
like a clydesdale on cobblestone as he passes close.

I half expected a distant fog horn to announce
the passing of a ghost ship where all be welcome.
BLT word of the day challenge: Garble: "to so alter or distort”
Katie Feb 1
Fog rolls thick through pervading waves,
Obscuring the stars the heart of man craves,
My ship, lost in mist, must fade away,
Never again to see a new way
To escape from the sadness we all feel deep,
And to lose ourselves in the beauty of sleep,
But maybe that's not so bad.

We write our best art when we're sad.
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