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Brynn S Nov 2018
Tracerene
Conclude the dream
Dew melt my eyes as a suken scene
Soft spoken words pour from your lips
With bones of greetings how often our slips
Gaze and grasp
Each night to pass
I follow you to heaven
Lift me to the ceilings of above
Paint me unto the walls of love
Grasp the two sides of the bodice
Reach to me closer, call me the goddess
Place unto the petals, leave me your alter
With breaths intertwined movements cease to falter
Eyes melt into one sight
Share with me our night

Loves together in a single moment
Kelidoscopes of rosed colors tint
Small traces to guide the hint
This is my moment to share, racing thoughts bleed into the air
September Roses Oct 2018
The arctic cold has brushed my cheek once again
The skies are stained white
and the ringing in my ears
is louder than ever
I wonder what the clouds are doing, I never see them anymore
The night doesnt come but the sun doesn't shine
I have a silver notebook
I write, spearmint
Because my eyes are watering but I feel nothing
The world is dry while the air is full
And the heavens take their morning pills
Wash their face
Head off sleepily to begrudgingly watch the icy seas
The wind bites my cheeks
But moves in such silence I wonder if the feeling is not just my routine punishment
At least I'm used to my spirits
At least I have a jacket on
At least the heavens didnt take a sick day all together.
Lilywhite Sep 2018
Oh the wayward motion that these celestial bodies tend to circumvent!
Do you take the time to analyze or ever wonder why?
A double edge sword, capable of discerning the heart’s intent
Might you care to venture there soon?

through crossed wires and code
yielding insight or an invite of some kind
with pictures, quotes, and anecdotes
Do you read between the lines?

Might I be the mirror that reflects your soul
Might I be the receiver of the light that guides you home
Might I be the kind of lady you’d want to pride around
Or Might I be a distant noise-- a sort of solemn sound

The way you shape your words, the thoughts you choose to speak
The many times you chose to share the inner-workings of your being
You plant a seed of hope, you give me life to breath

And even though you don’t think so, you’re quite a fantastic beast
Lady Bird Sep 2018
drips of joy
some of pain
peel me you'll
find restrain
liked or disliked
I‘m all the same
aroma and sight
so guess my name

--"Hint-Hint"--

don't take these
words by surprise
you might shed tears
from your eyes
many have complained
that I'm a nuisance yet
who I am is who I am and
can't help how I was named
open your eyes cant you see
an "ONION" thats just me...
Well,
memories,
hemorrhages
well
up from the sticky hole.

One time, I fell and hit my head
three times, three places, once in each:
the cabinet, the sink, the bathtub.

Practice being me by proxy.
Out of my head. Out my head.
Tangible damages,
incorporeal skeins.
Mess? Wreck. Heck,

This time, I stood and cracked
my skull on the cabinet:
Clarity? Is that you?

Practiced being me by proxy,
so so long.
Practiced being me by proxy.
Practiced being me by proxy,
so so long.
Practiced being me by proxy.

Clarity?
Or is this
an actual
hemorrhage?

Well,
Memory,
my sticky hole
is filling up
where the water was ****** by the ground.
Masuda Khan Juti Sep 2018
.
In the water that serpents drink and fishes mate in,
humans clean their pots.

The water drinks that dirt and oil,
it savours that hint of turmeric and burnt potato skin. It's a complete meal.
A woman was cleaning her pots by the surma river. In sylhet
Cause you see.
I can be rich and married to a woman in mediocrity;
Or I can be poor and with the woman of my dreams,
I'm sure of it.
Everyone wants a piece they can only get a tour of it.
Fussin for crumbs, I'm baking more of it.
But that's apparent; or superficial?
It's existential at the core of it.
I just need to feel.
Girl, show me something real.
Don't conceal from me.
You can get the deal from me.
We can go and peel.
You can grip the the wood grain wheel.
Make 'em tires squeal...

For me,

Is who I'm running from.
Upset with all I have and haven't done.
Under layers of writing,
Pounds of paper,
Tangles of letters,
Words rearranged,
Metaphors you may think strange.
But here I am.
Hiding in my forest of unspoken conversation.
Bits and pieces can you see me?
Look and listen do you hear me?
Maybe I feel lost because I've grown.
Trees happen to be bigger than shown.

Past poems come to mind.
Of trees;
Of me.
Of flowers;
Which happen to be about her.
Certainly, this same old ǝɔuɐp’
Cannot be my only stance.
This tree has legs,
I must move.
I just hope to not lose it,
As soon as I get in the groove.

-Luca Ivaldi
Started as one thing, ended as another.
Much like life.
Fred Oct 2017
Small human
let me help you
don't be ****
I know it's hard
life has a funny way
of turning against you
but here's a hint:
pain distilled is beauty.
DeityDog says look for beauty
Poetic T Sep 2017
I tripped over your ill
angled shoe..
Face planting the floor..
scuff marked pride,
as I got up ****** woman,
I uttered this under my breath...

I tripped over your ill
angled shoe..
coffee in hand,
a master of balance..
Not one droplet spilt,
but I saw you awkwardly
gaze at me, and I smiled.

The next few days,
I took another path.
missing your haphazard
           feet entrapping my gaze..
I pondered the view,
the reason for my needing to  
                                        stumble...

Walking past where you sat,
                      now vacant.
I was glum at the thought
of you not fumbling my stance.
Collecting myself on days past,
I walked a new path to my office.

I tripped over your ill
angled shoe..
Face planting the floor..
scuff marked pride.
Getting up I asked you
a question..

"I've fallen for you so many times
               I think I'm in love,


You can only fall so many times
before you realise that its love.
I showed the marks that I'd
fallen for you,
                  more than most would.
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