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ky Jul 2023
Driving down the freeway
underneath the dark night sky.

Thinking about it all.
Tears falling from my eye.

Starring out the window
at the reflection in the mirror.

Remembering the times
when it all seemed so much
Anais Vionet Jun 2023
Canada is afire and I’m confused, shouldn’t the snow put that out?

The Boston sky is an interesting shade of mustard yellow,
and there’s a pale orange haze where the sun should be.

Lisa, drowsily asleep-walked into the kitchen for her morning coffee.
“So this is Mars,” I observed, “Elon Musk will be so jealous.”
“Good,” Lisa said, “I was afraid it was nuclear winter.”
“There’ll be no breathing today.” I updogged.

We could almost hear the slow, delicate pitter-patter fall of micro-ash.

“There’s aaaa bright golden haze over Boston..” Lisa began to sing softly.
Lisa knows every Broadway score and can easily interpolate a song into every conversation.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Interpolate: inserting something, like music into a conversation,
Man Jun 2023
Here, the wind whips
The desert sand
Into a furious haze
That blinds all in
It's vicinity

Here, my neighbor is
Dragged out and ******
And my other neighbor
Is drugged out, ******
Different burden, different labor

I pray,
On my knees
Toward the east.
I pray for change
I beg and plead,
Chris Chaffin Jan 2021
Curling tendrils of tobacco haze
engulf the tiny space, hang like
ringlets over shots of whiskey
and mugs of warm beer. A solitary
dancer moves, bracelets janglin’
and eyes heavy with kohl, captures
old men in mid drink as her hips
sway to Nina Simone. Her bronze skin
glistens with the hot stares of the
audience; she soaks it in, twirls on
bare feet in perfect time as the
high priestess of soul bewitches
us with heavy grooves. I close
my eyes, tap fingers against glass,
whisper Nina’s words into the smoke
and breathe them back in again.
This is jazz, I think out loud,
this is pure unadulterated heat.
Rachel Rae Jan 2021
Haze, Haze
Ask me questions
Tell me names
Whisper sweetly
Always stay

And when I leave
Fill the mold
That once was me
Slowly, gently
And with ease
Slime-God Oct 2020
Long have I known fog,
his name, a penumbral thought.
Just like all the rest...
Thoughts have long passed through me like a rolling fog, hazy, and never long to stay. Longer have I wished for their lasting company.
Bailey Aug 2020
Red eyes
Dried lips
White icy fingertips
Cracked smiles
Hazy gazes
Blood stained phrases
White noise brings
Soft whispers
Playing games
Alaska Aug 2020
Today, you ask me what I’m on.
I say
Wouldn’t you like to know?
My friend,
Life comes and goes
I’m high off of my youth
Alive off summer nights
Mid-August fights
Tears shed, falling into my bed
Falling into your arms.
Tie-dye shirts, blue-eyed flirts, and mini skirts.
Tonight, I am drunk off your voice.
Dog days, Smoky haze
Tomorrow, I’m completely wasted off your laugh.
Mosquito bites, the same old fights,
I want brisk autumn nights
Comments are always greatly appreciated ❤️
Michael R Burch Aug 2020
by Michael R. Burch

a coronavirus poem

Remembrance like a river rises;
the rain of recollection falls;
frail memories, like vines, entangled,
cling to Time's collapsing walls.

The past is like a distant mist,
the future like a far-off haze,
the present half-distinct an hour
before it blurs with unseen days.

Published by Romantics Quarterly. Keywords/Tags: coronavirus, remembrance, memory, memories, recollection, time, rain, river, mist, haze, blurs, past, present, future
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