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Poetry Addict Oct 11
The silhouette of a jumper
Dirties the sky. A protest
Against the universe, one last
Obscenity hurled at the street.

The jump echoes inside me.
Another Icarus. Can I claim to be so noble
To fail so utterly?

The taste of blood fills my mouth in sympathy.
Oedipus tore at his eyes when he saw his mistakes.
Fate loads the die.
"he turns his crazed eyes, and all of life’s experiences
well up, like a pool of guilt, in his gaze..."
--Cesar Vallejo
marie Jan 2
if we live we live together
if we jump we jump whenever
if we stay we stay forever
if we stand we stand wherever
Puncture repair kit for the soul wanted.
Underoccupied tandem tyre's flat.
Heart-patch, what rubber solution bonded?

From old skool dogshit adobes, druids
built White Cliffs of Dover - few glues match that!
Puncture repair kit for the soul wanted.

Unicycles Sumerians sorted,
but bike made for 2 1 me rides to Splat.
Heart-patch, what rubber solution bonded?

No Wile E. Chimera off Beachy Head,
I'm going underground like samizdat.
Puncture repair kit for the soul wanted.

Brakeless brodie into marble orchard,
a sackseeking, unrequited lovecat.
Heart-patch, what rubber solution bonded?

Field day in iron clover is seasalted
Tour De Manche, victory requiescat.
Heart-patch, what rubber solution bonded?
Puncture repair kit for the soul wanted.
Marye Minstrel Jun 2017
The river is so hard to see
Rushing by below
The fog is thick, so none will be
Affected when I go

The water seems so close, so far
Reaching out a hand
To hold me near when life is hard
A grave of shining sand

The bridge, the wind, are hard and cruel
Silent to my pain
The world that takes me for a fool
Here taunting me again

The leap, the rush, the silent death
Dancing through my mind
Slow sinking as I take a breath
The suicide is kind

But then she takes me by the arm
Looks into my eyes
We turn and walk back to the car
I do not want to die
Poetic T Jun 2017
We engaged the engines, collected
the imagery of this place to further
our understanding of a vast pool.

Then we jumped, like a motion of
splashing down ripples silently
unseen fading into the distance.

We saw reflections of ourselves,
of our past, of what maybe our
downfall. We were like pebbles.

Sinking deep within the ocean
of raindrops, we were a grain
in the universe of stones.

We were called puddle jumpers,
splashing down on waters of
the unending universe.
Short one may make it longer later :)
Seanathon Mar 2017
When a child hears a storm rolling
Or an old dog howls in the dead of night
And the thunder is crashing
The lightning is striking
And the heavy rain spouts outside are unfolding

That is when I
At the age fifteen
Would look to be out in the thunderous storm
Instead of inside beneath the crown molding

Such storms were the reasons why I would be smiling
But also a reason why I would get scoldings

“You’ll get struck by lighting”
Said my mother to me
And then the voice of my sister would sound out with glee
Screaming “With Mom and Dad gone, you better not die on me!”

But I didn’t care
Because out there I was free
To jump high in the storm
And even flip dangerously
Because I was a storm jumper
Destined to be
Steve May 2016
There once was a clumsy little unicorn
Who'd torn every jumper he'd ever worn
Tuck in your head
His mother said
While guiding it over his horn
Conor Letham Nov 2015
Building contrasts
between the holes
shaped by fists
through wall cracks
to finger holes
in my knitted jumper-

I feel hole-punched by
layers and sediments,
each blend of fibre
becomes microscopic
to a solid form, or
a strangled kite:

Do you know how
a kite flies without
breath? It makes
sail in the earth,
depths in oceans,
drowns in vacuums.
ryn Oct 2015
Swimming alone in my ocean...
In search of courage
drenched and drowned
in cowardice.

I have ample foothold,
for now...
Taunting the winds
that whistled treacherously
on this precipice.

Ears to the air
I hear the faint calling
of a lone zephyr
in the traveling winds
of tomorrow.

A smile emerges.
Forgetting the uncertainties,
the shame
and the unforgiving sorrow...

Bewitched and determined
to catch this breeze
that briefly promised salvation.

Brushed away the tears,
emotional inadequacies
and lifelong trepidation.

My lips parted...
Inhaling deep
what once,
for a long time felt acrid.

Eyes closed.
I greeted the whispers
that spoke of the end.

I've wished to be amongst
the choral voices
that sang
not of strangers
but friends.

The time is now.
I've conveniently forgotten
what and who I am...
Knowing only where I want to be.

I've found courage.
I took one step
into the future.
And finally...
I'm free.
Inspired by Third Eye Blind's "Jumper".
Violet Blue Sep 2015
I want you and your sleepy cuddles at 4AM sleeping next to me while I'm asleep in your jumper holding onto you with my head on your chest as you play gently with my hair to help me fall asleep again
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