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Ander Stone Mar 20
Ice is cracking
Under the immense
And unforgiving
Weight of lead skies.

The world is falling,
Plunged into
The vast and punishing
Waters below.

Her lips dissolving
With the cosmic
And unwavering
Chill of the void.

A last breath reverberating
Below the colossal
And vengeful echoing
Of a final word.

Uttered in mourning
Of a momentary
And fragile
Strying Jun 2023
it whispers as I drive past,
luring me in,
I park near the rocks.

I exit the car with my long locks,
descend the stairs,
run with the sand,
wind in my hair.

I breathe in the salt air,
and stare at the force of the ocean,
its beauty,
its strength,
and yet,
its fragility.

I pause.

As though to awake from a dream,
tired and drained,
I walk back to the car,
suddenly aware of the sand stuck on my feet,
and my knotted hair.
Hi! I'm back :) Hope everyone is doing great.
Leah Ward May 2023
The main theme of this poem is um, triumph
So uh the secondary theme of this poem is defeat?
How could that be? Is that even what a poem is?
Is my life a song? Is this the ******* chorus?

Something crawls up from the drain through the ***** dishes and out of the sink. It grips me! It’s got me!

[This is the part I want to hide]

I saw a man so beautiful
Rarely is there ever a beautiful man--
a man so beautiful you want to kneel
and scream “You’re so beautiful!”
But instead I’ll worship him in the ways he insists:
by stepping aside on the sidewalk,
by laughing at the jokes he steals from me,
by squandering the money he pays me to do his job.

Is my life a song? Is this the ******* chorus?

It took me three to four years to learn
the difference between worshiping and begging,
between faith and belief
And now I have neither and engage in both and yet
My life feels like a free coffee and bagel
My life feels like an unwrapped candy bar
My life feels like a compliment from a stranger
My life feels like a birthday card with cash in it
Is my life a song? Is this the ******* chorus?

This is my once-yearly poem.
It’s like a broken perfume bottle at the bottom of my bag.
Look at it-- read it. Smell it.  Literal swill.  Most things make me feel sad, even more things make me feel threatened, especially this poem.
What is there to do but put my head in my hands?
What is there to say if not sorry?
Ali Nov 2021
why is it so easy
to break beautiful things?
to **** a bird in seconds
that took millennia to sing

i cradled that glass
i held on for dear life
and all in an instant
it slipped before my eyes

broken glass on the floor
funny how the shards sparkle
only boasting their magic
after their downfall

can't handle much more
this feeling is awful
every moment so tragic
can't get enough though

your heart and mine
evolving from nothing
since the beginning of time
shattered in seconds
cause I said the wrong line

it's funny how fragile
god made beautiful things
it's pretty ******* tragic
some birds never learn to sing
Julia Celine Aug 2021
Cornflower blue covered capsules
They turn the axles now
I know that you’d be scared too
If you surfed a furrowed brow

I could love the rain more if
I wasn’t made of wooden bones
And I would love me more if
I didn’t have such a fragile soul
She didn't always receive what she deserved.
But she understood that not everyone was the same.
She kept her distance a lot of the time, always watchful but not always careful.

Protect yourself and your dignity at all times.
But she was the kind, to not always listen to advice in time.

She gave out honour to just everyone around her, she encountered.
But she was careless when it came to herself.

She was the type to take it all in...
Absorbed the wrong energy from the ones that surrounded her.

She read them like a book, she said to herself.
But the words they recited to her, didn't always mean the same things that she comprehended.

She kept building walls up, to defend her fragility.
But allowed the wrong ones to tear them down brick by brick.

But she still refused to avoid her beliefs, she still gave out honour even if it was the last thing she did.
Maja Oct 2020
There are different kinds of fragility
One that bends,
And one that breaks

Step on a flower,
It withers

Step on a bomb
It explodes
Be careful with both,
a bomb may be dressed as a flower,
but you won't know until it has blown
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