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Emilia 1d
I have often found irony in it
When such silly people come to me
And ask me of love
They seek for the knowledge that I have not earned
Nor gotten through experience
And yet I can still provide
They call me a master of that trade
A trade that I have never traveled on
And that I never thought I would travel on

I have often found the irony of it
When I have all of the light in the world
Yet the moment I long to read it is gone
That as soon as I need something
It fleas and runs and hides from me

I have often found the irony of it
That when I am in the presence of someone
and name on there lips is never retired
And when they cannot bear to be away from them
And they know every
And every
And every
Little thing of them
They cannot tell this person how they feel
They cannot express to this name
All of the things that they wish to become
They cannot even speak to them

I have often found the irony of it
But now does it hit me with force
Where I used to be so knowledgeable
All of the information has left me
When I thought I could relay of just that
It is gone in my time of need
And now I can understand the people I once called
Silly and Ironic

For I am in love

Utterly and hopelessly in love
And I am utterly and hopelessly lost
And everything I once knew
Has disappeared

I cannot even fathom the thought of them
So much as go up and talk
Yet everyday I yearn
For some way to explain to them
For some way to make them understand
That every time they smile
I can feel my heart throbbing

But there is no way for me to explain
All of my excellence has faded
All of my brilliance has left
I am stuck with a heart throbbing
And a soul hurting

All I have is a face of irony
And a mind that has betrayed itself
Beckett 3d
I remember when I was happy
I remember when you were mine
I remember the day I fell for you
I wish i could turn back time
maybe my heart will heal someday
till than I just want to forget
I cant risk my heart breaking again
if it does than that might be the end
Just one breath,
of unpublished air.
One organic despair.
One step to repair
my damaged window.
My misled gaze.
My programmed eating,
ate my days.

One word to pull me
from my habit
While I claw at the walls
like a mindless rabbit.
Trapped in my whole
endless war, an
obligation
to my spirit
drowning in
the need within it.
I'm drowning in
the human image,
the crafted icons
and social spillage.

I search for rescue
in nail-scratched writings
in the wall of the cell
I've spent my life in.
Even beneath a billion stars,
The little boat floats, hollow at heart.
Afraid of the sea’s unspoken wrath,
It dares not drown, nor chart a path.

Its only friend — the silent helmsman,
Yet even he cannot break the hush within.
It waits... for the moon to light the tide,
For the wind to hush, and fear to subside.
Asher Graves Apr 28
And at last he prayed,
Prayed since all hope had perished,
All virtues faded and all sentiments gone.
Down the river he now floats, cursed with angst and pain.
He mourns his loss but his grief won't go away, for this is the consequence —
The consequence of action he so inadvertently did without a second of thought.
Oh, the lives he ruined, the chaos he brought.
Denial is the river, and denial is what he sought.

In denial he drowned,
And in denial he remained.

-Asher Graves
Saw an Instagram prompt asking young poets to write something based on an image — so I did. Here's what came out of it. Wrote it just five minutes ago, so there might be mistakes, but hey — it's about the rawness, not the polish, right? Let me know if it resonates.
Isobel G Apr 28
It's a feeling that I can never
put my finger on,
to seize its power with a name.
It's that slight rhythmic delay
in conversations on the phone,
the footfall of our voices
constantly just out of step.
Moments that are almost inconsequential,
but I keep picking at them
in my mind
like the loose skin of a hangnail.
Thumbing at the thoughts
in a way you tell yourself is harmless.
Just a bit more...
Only in an instant, it's all irrevocably undone.
It's that bitter stone of doubt in your chest
when there's a full stop instead of an "x".
You can't help circling back
to that seed planted in your mind
earlier than you can ever remember,
that it's you - fundamentally,
objectively, intrinsically.
Against your own better judgement,
it's so easy to sink into the ruminations
of inadequacy and psychological self-flagellation.
How many more times must you feel this way?
It's so familiar that you can almost detach.
That every time you feel that sparkle of
human connection, of being wanted for a moment,
it's already waiting for you.
You already know it's inevitable.
©Isobel G. 28.04.2025
White Owl Apr 25
My mind is still dull and dimmed with fog
From a recent string of sleepless nights,
But coffee and breakfast have done me good.
The sky bears no clouds and my vision is bright.

The itching stripes underneath my sleeves
Are fading to pink as they start to repair.
Those hours in Hell which then felt eternal
Are now a mere slash on a calendar square.

A quiet, bright jingling rings in my ears
With each steady pace into this new day,
As hung on a chain 'round my neck swings a pendant
Stamped with the words, "MEMENTO VIVERE."
Memento vivere is a latin phrase meaning "remember to live."
White Owl Apr 16
Father, listen, do you hear
The wailing spirit's desperate sound?
See you the black despair
That like a python 'round his neck is wound?
His light, it flickers, dimmer seeming,
As he off his hope is weaning,
As the stars all fall careening
From his eyes down to the ground.
He wonders if You've vanished,
Or if 𝒽ℯ is lost to ne'er be found.

Father, I know that You
And your compassion for us Men are real.
Your hands can still do miracles,
My eyes have 𝓈ℯℯ𝓃 them work and heal.
So hear my prayer as I plead
For this dear soul in dire need --
Set him from this bleak shadow freed,
Wrap him in love that he can feel!
And if he must these fires endure,
Then forge him into stronger steel.
Apr '25

This poem is based on prayers I've said several dozen times for two people in my life. As I was writing this, I also had a third in mind whom I've never met. If it happens to apply to you, it was written for you as well.
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