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jǫrð 4d
A waking thought
Across oceans of astral zen
There I was in your mind
A lair of mine own
The sun scorched
Our dreams like noble
Fictitious vampires
When morning wakes
I reach out in the distance
Walls of stone
Warm when our lips
Meet for the first time
Today
The History: We won't wake up together for a week. I want to be high with you. To feel your touch. To smell you near. Yes, it is love again.
Irelyn Thorne Sep 24
I know he screams
I know he lies
He's practically the devil
Right there in disguise

But if that's the case
Then why is he here
Why have you loved him
For all of these years

Charmful and witty
You weren't prepared
So why'd you marry
Just to live your life scared?
1) Go back to the first time you met them. Remember the first time they made you smile and happy.

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4) Relive all the sacrifices, the laughs, the tears, the happiness, the memories ( Did that make you smile now?

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He feels something is wrong.
even while he sleeps
a distance he cannot cross
when his eyes are closed but open
when her body lies beside him
yet never within his reach.

He can feel her sadness through him,

while her silence grows heavy.

He doesn’t know what to do

with hands she will not hold,

with lips that turn away,

with a heart that stiffens at his touch.

At night he hears the whispers
when she thinks that he is dreaming,

her secret sighs when she believes he’s gone.
and the hidden lump beneath them.
As small as a secret, but sharp as a thorn,
a toy she turns to 
where his love cannot follow.

Why not him?

Why not the man who longs 
to give her everything?

He doesn’t understand.

why she cannot bear his touch.

She tends to herself in silence,

while he lies awake
pretending to sleep
aching over a love
 and lust
he cannot mend.
it’s been a while since I’ve turned poetry I feel like my poems are only good if I’m feeling sad.
Mateah Aug 14
He laid out some towels
She set a bucket right on top
The outside pitter patter
Echoed closely by drip drop
She plopped down on the couch and said
“I hate our leaky roof…”
He cozied up right next to her
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute!”

The dog had left a pungent gift
Spread out across the floor
They tied cloth over their noses
Prepared to go to war
They scrubbed the ground on hands and knees
He, unusually mute
She poked his side with smiling eyes
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute!”

Baby two cried till blue
Every other hour
And baby one learned to run
Too young for such a power
People seemed to judge and stare
Her cheeks turned rosy red
He raised his voice, ignoring glares
“It’s cute! We’re newlyweds!”

She zipped up the dress
He escorted down the aisle
And gave away his baby girl
His heart in full denial
The newfound silence of their home
Was echoed in his head
She played their own first dance song
“It’s cute, we’re newlyweds”

Years spilled by, the kids had kids
Less heed was paid to clocks
Days now passed in reading chairs
With simple meals and long walks
They shuffled down the sidewalk
At a careful, measured pace
Their scooting right in sync,
A peculiar kind of grace
She paused to rub her fingers
His hands were also wrung
She raised her deep-set eyes to his
“Do you ever miss when we were young?”

His wrinkles seemed to lengthen
As a gleam came to his eye
His mind replaying memories
Of leaky roofs and a youthful bride
Then he looked at the woman beside him
Sore with the weight of life
And for a moment he stayed silent
Overwhelmed by his beautiful wife...

“I don’t miss when we were young
Though time has worn us down
The love I had for you back then
Cannot compare to now
I’ll brave a thousand achey bones
Just to take slow walks with you.
Besides,” he took her hand in his
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute.”
This one is very dear to me and I think will be for a long time… it has a lot of my husband and I woven into it.
I swear I dug you up
cool, rough

I chiseled you from the
ore
of brilliance

how you shone, in my eyes
my love
the jewel

of my heart
This was a small Twitter poem I wrote, back before Twitter expanded their character count limits to 280 characters, which is why this poem was so short.

At the time, limitations emboldened my writing.

The challenges, of fitting in boxes, empowered my zeal for, my romance with, the written word (so called, "writing", or, even worse, "creative writing") and increased my penchant for discovering, learning, defining, and mastering different writing/art mediums.

As a writer, I was never more comfortable, able, and "at work."

2018 began my descent 8nto my current creative rut.l, although, this rut I, in truth, at my highest standards, where I am most sensitive, I stand by; I fuel, in this age of materialism, where capitalism is the artist's final dictator, and art has, by dystopian decree of his/their/they's/it's majesty, Capitalism, become mere "product."

I used to write to a prompt poster who used the hashtag #SenseWrds

I used to be in love with her, as a consummate crush (I might still be, deep down).

I used to genuinely wish I could date her.
A true guilty desire that I hope I tempered, responsibly/aesthetically, instead of inundating her with cries of pining, yearning, with odes of impossible adoration, and facile devotion.
Jaz Jul 16
A little girl sits at the kitchen table,
Silently coloring while watching cable.
She asks, “Why does Daddy yell at you?”
Her mother says, “it’s just something he likes to do.”
She asks, “Did your Daddy yell at you?”
Her mother says, “Yes he did that too.”
She asks, “Will my future husband yell at me?”
Her mother says, “No, that should never be.”
Her mother hugs her tight and whispers,
“Well go far, far away, where theres only happiness,
And no more angry voices can ever reach us.”
bucketb0t Jul 14
Acută Cocolita!
Tu voi să înțeleagă lumea…
Eu voi recita K-lumea.
Tu: De vorbesc, scurtează… poezia n-o cripta!
Eu: De amăgesc, rimează… pana mea!

În inimă înrădăcinat:
Dintotdeauna focusat, pe a găsi,
Cel puțin oferi un sens vieții.
Așteptat din interior, deși mort fără tine mor,
Neașteptat din exterior, puicuța mea... te ador!

Acestea oare?
Idilicul ce doare,
Flux simbolic,
Paradox logic,
Realul ca alinare.

Lună și soare,
Colți și gheare,
Creți dar/și drepți,
Jenă și pasiune,
Frișcă și căpșune.

Ce întrebare…
Există multe alte elemente,
Adunate, îmbinate—
Toate suficiente?
Urmează multe alte evenimente.

Copii…
Crescuți din agonie,
Trăim în armonie.
Al tău pe vecie,
Draga mea excepție!

Ca atare:
Rezonanță mai adâncă;
Decât în muzică,
În sfârșit *** afirma:
Este soțioara mea!
Poem written in Romanian, dedicated to my now wife with love to our marriage.
mjad Jun 17
His soft skin on my fingertips
eyes flickering in his dreams
arms twitching around me
how did I get so lucky
to see this man asleep
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