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Kenechukwu Jul 2023
Splinters, blisters.
Losers, winners.
Saints and sinners.
"Come in for dinner" s

It's where we learned to socialise.
Our very own sovereign land
zero politics
and conflicts always solved
hand to hand.

Loud junctions juxtaposed
against our little corner of paradise
motorists peering in when they stop at that red light.

Ringing on doorbells, buzzing on intercoms
The anticipation
to hear whether your friend was home or not.

Colourblind kids with the most vivid sight.
Retrieving footballs under parked cars
was the extent of our plights.

I didn't know where the world would take us
or the type of people it would make us,
but something I learned from a young age
is that the rest of the world isn't like
This is about the street I grew up on as a child. I'm sure many can relate. I haven't written in a while and I was feeling nostalgic. It's always best to make the most of these moments and store them in a poem.
SoVi Dec 2021
You walk away
For a day
For a month
For a year

You say it's okay
It's a faze
It's just for a day
It'll go away

Then you realize
In a moment
In a blur

That you have forgotten
Abandon and ignored
The words you've penned
The poems you've cared for

Now you have returned
To a familiar place
With a different face
The time has come
To end the hiatus

© Sofia Villagrana 2021
It's been a long year. My passion for poetry was nonexistent due to COVID and school. But it has returned (even though I am busier than ever LOL). I don't think I'll have the same drive for poetry as I did before. But I'll still be writing.
Kirsty Taylor Apr 2021
As you sit to look at your calendar,
Something once overflowing,
Is now becoming more and more
Tauntingly blank.

In a place between the end of something
And the start of the next thing
Stuck in what feels like a hiatus

As you sit to look at your calendar,
Something once overflowing,
Is now becoming more and more
Tauntingly blank.

In a place between the end of something
And the start of the next thing
Stuck in what feels like a hiatus

Bit by bit,
Your calendar starts to fill again
This time it fills with things for you
You and only you

Your calendar,
It has more white than before
But now the white looks like snow
Instead of the ice from before.
Jammit Janet Apr 2021
I've been gone,
Focusing on my goals,
Savoring every minute,
In the present,
Being whole,

Disconnecting from distractions,
Discovering new attractions,
That move me to the next level,
That make me feel confident,

I am stronger than the devil,
Or anyone who cares to defy me,
For I am the light,
That burns so bright,
To educate and revive thee,

From the pain,
Of the mundane,
Lack of wonder,
Abysmal plane,

That is life,
Without dreams,
kolsmusing Mar 2021
took a break
in writing down my thoughts

took a rest
in spilling my words

took a while
in pouring down
all my heart and soul
Juwayriya Jun 2020
Quivering lip under my teeth,
wide eyed I stared into the blank.
It lured me a moment earlier
now it just disappeared.
So I peeked into my subconscious
unbounded by the passing time
Waiting to be struck by that perfect rhyme.
I let the rain fall upon my shoulders.
It is cold,
yet welcoming somehow.

I taste the salty sadness
as it runs in lines
down my face,
and drips off my chin.

After months of the emotional hiatus,
this storm has ended it all.

I feel the electricity welling inside me.
I wait for the lightning to strike,
before the deafening boom of thunder.

And I am awake.

For the first time in months,
I feel everything instead of nothing.
I am somber.
I am impassioned.
I am free;
to feel
and to let the feelings take me in their arms
and throw me until I can’t move.

This monsoon
is long overdue
and the numbness of emotion beats
the paralysis of feeling nothing.
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2020
Between the envelope and gondola I'm lighter-than-air. Montgolfier-style? Not really. I ascend as a prayer with his eyes wide shut, timid in the feel for heaven. Speaking of heaven, some say it's no longer a gated community, but the association fees have doubled. Really I float like a Yost, flaming onboard for the photo shoot. The morning pass is for the kids with spending power. The noon move, and media darling, catches the Comic-Con crowd just stumbling out of a parent's basement. The night drift, drink in hand, mimics the trigger man who got his days confused from too much killjoy. Laissez-passer both giveth and taketh away -- there is no immunity in the sky, no amnesty to assign my crimes to. I'm just your smiley actor on the Netflix trail. You love me for a season or until my balloon gets popped. Whichever comes first.
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