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Nadia Sep 2019
You have never gone after
what you really wanted.
Sure, at the last moment, you
have desperately leaped out
and tried to grab on to something
as it went by. That doesn’t count;
you never stood a chance,
you never put all of your heart
and soul on the line, to humbly and
doggedly pursue anything at all.

Maybe you’ve never needed
anything, but I think that’s a lie
and you know it. You might say
that you needed it too much,
so much so that even the thought
of failing is too painful to endure.
You froze that feeling out, called it
impractical, unreasonable,
unnecessary. Those were lies
as well. You can hide behind the lies
but they will never feed your soul.

There is something you need.
Something you want down to
the very spark of your being,
something that will fill you up
with the life force of the universe
and set you ablaze to hang
in the heavens, among the stars.

You can continue failing through
inaction, hoping your passion
will atrophy, and it might, but that
inner you, the you that wants so
many things for you, it will atrophy
too, until you are a husk
of a person. There is nothing
sadder than a person who
used to have fire within their soul.

You can choose to smother yourself
or you can choose to go for it,
to coax that spark to flame and feed
the fire until it blazes forward carrying
you along. You can choose.

NCL September 2019
YAYATHI Jun 2019
Abandoned at a sandy beach,
Bleeding sunlight through the countless cracks,
I , a lone catamaran,
Stared at the infinite ocean.

The sun is coming down.
The seagulls are flying to eternity.
The lighthouse far away has started blinking
And the winds are returning home.

Gone are the days of stormy adventures.
So, are the laughters on the day of good catch.
I miss the uncertainties of tempest,
And the ballads of ******.

A sunset is the most poignant moment in the life.
All your memories out there to enchant you,
Life is all frolicking around you,
And you stare soulless, into a receding red ball.

I yearn to break free of this inaction
Push away the stack of stones holding me back.
And glide down the wet slippery sands
Out into the frothing foam of life.

Let me float anchorless where the ocean takes me.
Let the storm toss me up in the air
Let the waves batter my hull
Let me capsize in the blue salt water.

And then.... there would be peace.
Its monsoon in my part of the world. One day during my morning stroll I saw this catamaran parked ashore. It oozed solitude and melancholy

The next day I saw that the wild sea has taken it and  it had capsized and was being tossed around in the waves. A sudden sense of empathy gripped me
Sam Weinberger Jun 2019
You can get through this
You will if you choose
To focus not on what is
But on all you can do

You found your way in
You can make your way out
But if you don’t take action
You’ll be left there to pout

Not the greatest of statues
Repels the force of a train
It takes a man on the move
Telling the conductor “there, you will stay”

So don’t wait for a hero
Or occasion to fade
For the moment you lie down
Is when your bed becomes made
CC May 2019
Actions over words
What are words without fire
Fire that moves and burns the world
Licking the flames of your tragedies
And taking you towards a new forest
Where the pasts have burned
Touch the fertile ground of your new mind
Promote yourself from writer to soldier
Don't you dare take your time
Your next words would be your last
Your next move could be the first of firsts
The builder
The fighter
The mightier
The worthier
Everyone knows that glory is in being alive
The only thing more alive that words
Is your body moving to fulfill the words
Ahnaf Apr 2019
life flew over my head.
could I have caught it?


but I wasn’t looking.
rather I stuck to boredom.

I sat in this chair three years ago,
      and it feels the same.
life seemed to have stopped.

I thought and thought and thought,
while others did and did and did,
     and I sit here looking at them.

...I can’t smile at their joys,
        it reminds me of my motionless existence.

and worse,
the jealousy and anger has stiffened my body,
fastening me to this chair
and prolonging my stay

I want to leave,
but it’s too hard to let go of regret.
I am a bitter man,
with eyes of hate;
help me if you can.
A Simillacrum Feb 2019
Factions dance blade
to grindstone
Scholars scratch pen
to paper
Thinkers mash pride
to danger

What have I done?
Oh, I've lived
Meaningless & Ill
Longer than expected

What all have I done?
Ejected myself
From womb, to wooden womb
OpenWorldView Feb 2019
This world is broken.
Hypocrisy everywhere.
But it always was.
Arpita Banerjee Jan 2019
A mutilated corpse in the middle of the city
Frothing at the mouth
A suffocating hostage
A sacrilege
A sacrifice of religious anonymity
You flow and stagnate
Making us all ruminate
What life has created
Is nothing but destruction in its wake

In the hustle of the city
You remind me of pity
Not for you
Not for your desperately dark waters
Not for your absence of tethers
But for me
You remind me how small and insignificant
Is the mind that dares to see
Dares to write
Dares to referee
Against your will to end
No destiny can revoke your decision
No human can make you bend

In your twists and turns
Your tortuitous burns
You are resolute
That the ones who killed you
Will not play the immortal flute
Or their resonating glory
Of conquering what you are

They tried to claim you
They tried to blame you
They tried to reduce and maim you
But from your eternal sleep you may never wake
The city may run
The city may burn
You will support no flora
No fauna
Rest in peace, Yamuna.
The Yamuna is one of the most significant rivers in India, a civilization that is historically dependent on rivers and attributes them a divine status. For the past few months it has been covered in industrial froth and the dark waters of the severely polluted river resemble a scene of heaven, with soft white clouds covering the deceased soul. The poem is a reflection on the ghastly vision of the transcendent glory of the river, whose waters are now a toxic propagator of death. Yamuna could not be brought back, but Yamuna's death is a protest against the vile species that inhabits its banks and turns a blind eye towards its writhing crawling tormented journey with an aching will to survive. Yamuna is lost to us forever. Rest in peace, blessed river. The human race never deserved you.
Aaron E Dec 2018
I'm somewhere in the middle.
Forget-me-nots in a pistol
tripping on thought tangents
playing a fist full.

Feeling my teeth caught,
biting deep in the gristle.

Seething a heat,
not green
not at bay to the whistle

my impatience is simple
I'm awaiting the gavel
And I'm somewhere in the middle
I fear the venom and rattle
and play the innocent *******.

beginning to wait
to watch the ending begin

approaching the line

I'm Here.

Watching the moment again
feeling cold on the fringe
seeing it blow in the wind

watching it pass
stopping to gasp
at how fast it was stolen again

seeing the difference,
between a fold and a bend

Peeling the image apart
and rolling bones for the gold
on the spin

Hoping next time
I'm not a line up of bowling pins

sitting in wait
asking the past
for a day to do over again

I'm somewhere in the middle.
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