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B Apr 27
20th birthday
I've forgotten when to breathe
and my mother is my only friend
the last one yet to leave.
I am feverish skin
to the first of March's chill breeze
tripping over, again and again
afraid to pull my hands from my sleeve.
20 years old now
a full on woman in sheep's clothing
but I don't know how
to live life without loathing
love, and bills, and here and now's.
Myself, pulling on a window that's already closing.
Rich Dec 2022
Energy radiates and traces my body with celestial tones
I am more alive than I’ve ever been
when surrendering to awe and wonder
the same way my younger self fearlessly did

something about that glimmer hasn’t left yet, may never leave
memories still have flavors to me
mornings with a lake of flakes in my bowl
or years and years later when a fried hangover cure restores me
each month and its esculent flashbacks are a part of me
a cell in the skin
a beaten feather in the wing

something about the glimmer hasn’t left yet
the Earth is still new
and discoveries never expire:
new scenery
new explorations
new chronicles in the cinema
new kindred spirits
new waves of audio
new therapeutic solitudes
all balancing out the
new captivities
new mistakes
new mediocrity
new unhealthy solitudes
and more

until the body is a home base of homeostasis
commensalism at its finest

but something about the glimmer hasn’t left yet, may never leave
I outgrew shadows who doubted their expiration dates
I don’t rubricate the sky in a rage
don’t let the heartbreak pause a pulse
don’t let misanthropy obscure who I see
don’t let uncertainty’s web catch me in a paralysis

or at least I try

something tells me I’ll never “age out”
of my hunger to live fully
I know deep down you're similar
your craving will not fade into cinders

oh what a feelin!
To be trippin on nostalgia.
SelinaSharday Dec 2022
It's Pouring Ova here, Its falling..
Just look at the rain you've allowed..
It's raining , it fills my room...
This rain inspires though its pouring lightly..
It increases gently..
You said you can feel it too.
The rain is growing flowers, in my room..
The grass grows with energy..
Pouring within me respectively..
Raining... I can still hear you saying.. its raining for you too.
abundantly.. fun while... dancing meaningfully.
Rain.. Raining excites destiny.. Pouring fully..
Spilling from my room...
Sunlight above the cloud as its pouring.. Blissfully..
So luxuriously. keep raining..Over me..

keep pouring..
keep falling sweetly..
Raining.. Inside.. Raining outside.. Love reigns...Beautifully..

Such Rains...
a Good thang..

SelinaSharday_H.E.R#POETRY 2022......S.A.M
When Love is falling its like refreshing rains thats a good kinda thang...
abhinav Nov 2022
As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
wind on my face, hair back
grin on my face, getting backtracked.

As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
wind's there, no waving hair
moonlight off the skull, giving glare.

As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
stiff joints, drifting BMI
monotonous monochromatic life.

As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
colors faded, cinder remains
butterfly butchered, moth's reign.
At 5 dreamt how cool is it to be 25, approaching it, missing the innocent naïve me
Megan s Sep 2022
What if I finally woke up and decided to understand my life isn't a mistake...
Did I finally grow up?
Nascent and emerging
Yet growing every day
Bitcoin’s only dawning
Come join without delay

Incipient, forthcoming
With still some way to go
Like a constant drumming
Measured, strong and slow

Budding and beginning
In young and infant stage
Yet nations it is winning
As it slowly comes of age.

Changing us while growing
More freedom and more hope
Still small - yet never slowing
In numbers, and in scope

Original, advancing
It clarifies our view
Bitcoin - worth defending
Continues strong and true
This is Bitcoin Poem 023 at and you can see it displayed on a background when you (copy and paste the link below).
morrigan Aug 2022
pack your bags and perch yourself
on the highest of stakes
overlooking the city and her scape
looking down you may find
that someone has taken up their charcoal pencil
only to draw cruel frowns
on the faces of those who claimed to love you
but never mind the unpredictable pathos of the mind
half a million miles away
the sun will threaten to blind
until the day that it dies
and who it catches in the snares of its rays
are left up to the fingers of fate
happy accidents, lucky misfortunes
they’re all just rocks on the path
that led you to today
Glenn Currier Aug 2022
I am Rip
awakened from a long sleep
finally my eyes opening
to see a new world.
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