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You didn’t know you found your very own Icarus.
She seeks the sky
Full of pride
Full of belief
—she can do better than those who came before her.

She has spent years fawning over those wings of wax—
Denying realities of
Gravity’s fatal pull,
Rejecting effects of
Scorching heat.

She doesn’t want you to stop her
(Though she loves you because she knows you’ll try).

Just like those who came before her,
She understands there is but one moment to
Feel the sun,
The gilded air,
Before burning up
Or crashing into eternal shade.
To the one who is always there after too much time in the sun.
snipes Feb 5
I’m beyond a rescue
I’m battling another brew
This contagious flu
is minuscule
The maestro is in full throttle
And as he’s playing my soundtrack
The camera pans out
and all you can see is
my legacy
A sad sight to see
but f* this world
From now on
I am in true belief
A deadbeat?
But my mind has been
that’s right
I am me
Attitude infectious as
my bright smile
I’m ready to run
this marathons miles
Every step from here on
is me turning this world
so from here on out
I’m giving you what’s going on
on my mind
I’m here for a lifetime
I’ll love mine
and I’ll ****
I S A A C Aug 2022
tender love and care
unfold, allow myself to share
all of these precious gems
before their existence is solely tied to mine
if an isolated man dies
who will tell the story of his tries
of his cries, of his lowest lows and highest highs
the way he spoke, his piercing eyes
tender love and care
i give with each breath i take
Jon Arntsen May 2022
Dear Father

I hope you found sleep tonight
You’ve come in off the field of play
You’ve put away your sword and armour
Nothing more to say

Rest your warring mind
No need now to rage
Against the rising of the tide
The long night is upon you

The golden wheat stands ripe
As you stride through the field
Let peace run through your fingers
No need to hold so tight

Your work here is done
The battle not over
But your part played
We will carry the day
Let your tired bones rest

I wonder what gifts did you bestow
We unknowingly don lightly
Unaware your legacy is informing
Our daily lives with small moments

Little things that trip us up
All unknowingly speaking
Of a man gone but not forgotten
I hope you found sleep tonight

I shed a quite tear
Writing this in the still dark
Before the dawn light seeps
Across the rim of the world
Breaking held breathe
I hope you found sleep tonight

Are you resting quietly
In your imagined eternal night
Or delighting in the halls of your fathers
Raising a glass in silent salute
A small smile upon your face

I hope you found sleep tonight
My father died two weeks ago. Complex, difficult man, who suffered towards the end, out of his depth, away from the one he loved, unaccustomed and uncomfortable with his new life.  He particularly couldn't sleep in the final weeks, towards the end, and  commented on it like a sad lonely child. He was a logician, uncompromising academic with 5 degrees, intelligent, a successful chemical pathologist, very linear, with a black and white world view.  Not very warm and lovable for many years now, somehow got lost in his latter life. He really did rage against the dying of the light. He was an atheist, who a clear view there was no afterlife. He is of Scandinavian origin.  A distant man, closed and introverted, yet gregarious once.
Dave Robertson Mar 2022
Not lost as much as misplaced,
gone from where you should be
in bosoms of families
and conspiracies of friends
still adding your narrative arc,
your author’s hand

It is for us to ape your style,
continue your quirks and syntax
so the story, like these spring bouquets
will bloom well
Christina Jan 2022
Theodore left an unknown legacy to himself and to everyone, in American history.
That two hundred years from now, women’s children’s, children, children will learn about Ted Bundy and his devious wrongdoings back in the simple, maniacal, chaotic nineteen-seventies.

When his hopeless, vulnerable innocent victims that weren’t able to make it, didn’t get the
opportunity to
accomplish life’s greatest gifts, as their lives were just getting started. They didn’t get the
chance to become wives, mothers or grandmothers when they should’ve. As over forty years passed since those tragedies began, there’s still this reminder of : NEVER EVER AGAIN.

Monsters unknowingly appear in all shapes, sizes and even faces. They instantly appear right in front of your face in any place at any time of the day. Morn

They don’t hide under your bed, basement or inside your closet, like our parents told us in children’s folklore.

But right in front of you as you walk down the street in your friendly neighborhood, grocery store or taking the edge off  talking to a stranger from the long days work at some random local bar or coffee shop. They could even be your best friend.

You. Just. Don’t. Know.

It’s like whenever you see a vintage VW Beetle, driving down the street downtown or down your neighborhood street, fellow women all around must feel an internal bone-chilling shiver creep down their spine’s. That that warning is still there to watch out, whom you encounter with. To never help a man who is in need.

So take  this notion to be aware of all of your surroundings and be cautious of who, when and where you talk to. Lock your doors, windows and get a high-tech security system if you have to. Because you just never know, when your life will turn into a three-sixty mess in a matter of seconds.
Johnson Oyeniran Oct 2021
Night sweats from worry, troubled
Me deeply, for that dreaded thought
Of old still lingers within mine soul.

When I make my bed six feet under and
My legacy goes on display, will the children
Of Eve be swayed to esteem my name as
They do with great men of renown, adored
Unto this day?
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2021
He knocks.
Time, it's time,
the Kuroi Jukai within me.

Finding an unordinary
drifting off to sleep point,
a hollowed-out spot,
where I can let
God dream for me.

Whistles in the wind,
in lullaby the sky and sea
seem to trade places,
bending around me
as vertical blanketed surges.

My carcass is a colonization (of bones)
for my dearly departed ones,
forbearers of migration,
seeking endless sea,
until like them,
I settle upon
their ancestral shore.

Kuroi Jukai (Japanese, translated as Black Sea of Trees)
Andrea Kabugo Jul 2021
Freedom was a writer from whom his name was stolen.
That of whom left his breaths on every page he wrote the meanings of which, were torn from his chest.
He was the fruit of his works,
of his labour.
And was the whistle in the wind that blew that blew through silence.
Hanging tastefully in the air.
A sweet sensation.
Who grew from dismality, was named and married to him as Hope.
The growths of their union,
the words of the tormented writer and the melodies of the candied breeze,
were songs of story sung for acres.
And who’s dawned legacies are the working times of their lovechildren,
Emancipation and Liberty.
The story of our people.
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