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Flo 1d
I often ponder and struggle
Being decisive is hard and
I tend to freeze up
In times I need to make up my mind
I tend to lose my way

The fear and anxiety
Of a future that may not be
Of dreams that may never come true
And ambitions that end up in failure
It often leaves me paralyzed

I start to regret choices
Before they are made
And I mourn
The opportunities forever lost

Things will never change
If you choose to remain stagnant
A simple fact and
A cruel truth

Moving forward requires courage
It requires a leap of faith
And the ability to believe in yourself
Thing’s I have long since forgotten

Who could have thought
Seeking change could be this hard
I cannot stop but feel burdened
By the person I’ve become
And by the person I aspire to be
twelve years ago
a very long time ago
I was just a kid then
(not that I'm any better now)
and love was something new

it felt thrilling, exciting
a young kid entering junior high
I knew most of the kids in my class
every introduction is welcomed
with rapturous claps

but one girl, shy as she was,
charmed me to my bones
she was already taller than me
her skin fairer than the noon sun

it must've been a scene from a movie
for the wind blew her hair about
like a goddess arriving on earth
her smile made me dizzy

God blessed me with a reciprocated love
like a sun-kissed, graceful dove
I jumped like a fool when she accepted me
the date never eludes my mind, it was November three

Alas, I was just a foolish kid then
(not that I'm any better now)
we were happy, if only for a short while
as happy as puppy love could be

her lips did touch my cheek
followed by a quick escape on her part
youthful love, my first love
Gods, we were happy then
she and I,
and maybe everyone...

don't blame me;
a man can only look back
when his future is uncertain
so, allow me this one time

to reminisce
to seek hope
to remember

what I used to be
and what I can be...
felt a little blue today. thought I'd write one of my feelings down.
How to read an evolving novel form
of witnessed am-usement,
think with a poet like yourself,
become remused, bemusedly
free, but for the cost of your attention,
freely paid, and freely taken on the come,

come to see how it all ends, in real life.

/poems/popular/
or /latest/
read down the stack, find
sacred knowledge muses use to rate
treasures that force a full blown what if…

Read any poet who rates being
in your hearted pile of impressive works,
hellopoetry.com/handle/poems/popular/
take the mind, let is be in you,
read each word chosen on the fly,
pause, rethink, the stacking algorithm,
most read pieces, past tension piling on,
is was good, as it's, so
and on, people's choices, random,
right on, reasoning rationality,
whats a minute's worth of musing,
precious, indeed, taken time, used,
is all time is for, others read first,
to pass on noticeably new, mere ifery,
used to make common sense used to read
wildly unorthodox translations of basic,
towb ra
good and evil, OOPs, flaw interpreted,
beautiful adversity, face to face,
true, real yes, first novel knowing
tell me a story, tell no lie, boys,
will be boys, until sense
common as all get out,

comes to account
for idle words,
used to get by those wasted years,

to when, beyond
what ever hell are you now,
thinking, y'gotta carry on, squint

to have the eyes stretching time, now,

we have seen it done
https://hellopoetry.com/MK/poems/latest

did it today,

put me through a blizzard on this year's hottest day.
a chthonic boldness makes such suggestions, think yourself a part of the pages in the book of all our lives, and our job is learning things we neve knew words can do.
Shivvy Sep 3
Us?
I'd still smile fondly, looking at you;
Knowing the future having us will never be true.
Zywa Aug 31
I don't read your hand,

something that really matters --


you shouldn't want to know.
Play "The Servants and the Snow" (1970, Iris Murdoch), Act One

Collection "Unspoken"
Zywa Aug 31
I look at the lines

of your hand and I pretend --


that I can read them.
Play "The Servants and the Snow" (1970, Iris Murdoch), Act One

Collection "Unspoken"
Athul Ravi Aug 30
I don't hold any memories
Nothing that tells me what I like
Or that tells me what I was like

For all I know
The only place I do know
Is this bed of white sheets
Where I wake up each day
Every day these past two weeks
And the only person I know
Is that lady in white
Greeting me every morning with a smile
If nothing else, this sight
Has found its place in my mind

She showed me someone
Someone who claims to know me
Someone who went to school with me
I do not know him though

His 'me' resembled a butterfly
Flitting between the flowers in a garden
Giving each the attention deserved
Gracefully, without any reserve.

An image that felt quite foreign
To this husk that remains at present

Another day,
She showed me someone
Someone who claims to know me
Someone who shared my blood
I do not know her though

Her 'me' seemed like a wise cat
Knowing when to pick a fight
Knowing when to restrain its bite
Knowing how far of an arm's length
To keep itself away
From being too involved or too little
In any event of concern around it

I should learn from such a cat,
But I find it hard to believe I was that.

Yet another day,
She showed me someone
Someone who claims to know me
Someone who claims to love me
And also claims to love me as I am
I do not know her though.

Her 'me' painted a picture of a vase
Holding tulips and daisies,
Broken to bits yet held together
By some substance unfamiliar.

I can't seem to comprehend
How this vase stands on end
'Love,' she says, but it's only
One of many four lettered words
That fill the same space as 'vase'

As my days went by,
Meeting people who knew 'me'
A choice needed to be made.
Which one of the 'me's is me,
And which one shall continue being me?

The shell I am doesn't remember
Holding a butterfly, a cat or a vase
The person I am now
Doesn't owe any of them a place

Yet I wonder
Would it be wrong of me
If I chose one while forsaking the rest?

It's always a little easier
To trace over the lines already drawn
By someone who knew better

Should I be giving up
A chance at a clean slate?
A chance to let myself
Be free like a bird not caged
A chance to take a shape
Any 'me' has yet to take

I wouldn't know better
After all, the only place I know
Is this bed of white
And the only person I know
Is that lady in white
This is a little something I cooked up after reading through the manga of 'Bloom Into You'. For those who've read the series, it's more or less my take on the play that takes place during the school festival. It's a rather particular place to start with here, but next time, I'll look at something more accessible 😅
Peter Balkus Aug 29
Sadly not, I won't be here tomorrow,
I'll be somewhere else, someone else.
though I'm not talking about different life,
and I'm not talking about same old death.

I am talking about time that is timeless.
I am talking about placeless place.
About some kind of Hell-free Heaven,
some kind of greener grass Universe.

I'm not talking about having a choice,
or some signs of hope that'd be showing,
but about clocks like broken toys,
and maps like some nursery drawings.

I am packing my stuff - it's not easy:
been unpacking things my whole life.
Feels like turning the course of dry river,
or the blood painted hands of  time.

**** the happiness, **** the sorrow,
no more heartful and dreadful a-roving.
Blind man's shadow - my guide I will follow.
Only future me knows where I'm going.
Carlo C Gomez Aug 24
~
The ballpark is on fire

And there's a man

In a hospital gown

Directing traffic

~
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