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Man Nov 2020
mind maggots
nesting in the farthest recess of your brain
a cranium turned cottage
at the hour of your sleep

where toyed emotions play you
leaving to run the hamsters' wheel
where helplessness overpowers you
to see your quickened pulse
in silvery starlight
Amanda Hawk Jul 2020
My joints dance under my skin
Grating against each other
Until I am aching
The pain howls and clings to my legs
I can feel it swinging and diving along my nerves
Limping, I keep walking forward
And watch as my destination
Becomes farther and farther away
These years hang on me
And I carry the baggage upon my back
Soon, I know I will have to let go
Let every issue fall to the floor
Or they will dig me a grave
And I will slowly drown in the pain
SA Szumloz Apr 2020
My arms feel limp as if
They're about to fall off
My eyelids feel so heavy
As if weights were
Pulling them down
My head is pounding
Against the pillow
Wanting to shut down
For the night

Let me go to Hell to sleep.
I feel exhausted right now and I did nothing all day.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
English Translations of Russian Poems by Vera Pavlova

Shattered

I shattered your heart;
now I limp through the shards
barefoot.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Seasons

Winter―a beast.
Spring―a bud.
Summer―a bug.
Autumn―a bird.
The rest of the time I'm a woman.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Pygmalion

Immortalize me!
With your bare, warm palm
please sculpt and mold my malleable snow.
Polish me until I glow.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Scales

Scales:
on the one hand joy;
on the other sorrow.
Sorrow is the weightier;
therefore joy
elevates.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Muse

A muse inspires when she arrives,
a wife when she departs,
a mistress when she’s absent.
Would you like me to manage all that simultaneously?
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Stone Wall

You, my dear, are my shielding stone:
to sing behind, or bash my head on.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Fluttering

Remember me as I am this instant: abrupt and absent,
my words fluttering like moths trapped in a curtain.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Flight

I have been dropped
and fell from such
immense heights
for so long that
perhaps I still
have enough
time to learn
how to
fly.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Three versions of Vera Pavlova's "tightrope" poem:

I test the tightrope,
balancing a child
in each arm.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I walk a tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I test the tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
―Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Vera Pavlova is a Russian poet. Born in Moscow, she is a graduate of the Schnittke College of Music and the Gnessin Academy of Music, where she specialized in music history. She is the author of twenty collections of poetry, four opera librettos, and the lyrics to two cantatas. Her poetry has appeared in The New Yorker and other major literary publications. Keywords/Tags: Pavlova, Russian, translations, epigrams, woman, female, shards, seasons, scales, tightrope, child, arm, sorrow, joy, shattered, heart, broken, glass, limp, limping, barefoot, snow, sculpt, mold, polish
Strying Feb 2020
Some days I feel like getting up,
others,
I don't.
I lift my finger off my bed, and I say,
not today.

Sometimes I wonder if people notice the small things,
like my eye bags getting bigger,
or the slight limp in my walk.
Maybe they do and maybe they don't,
that's not up to me.
It's all up for grabs.

I like to think I'm in charge,
but I know I'm just drifting.
People around me are just carrying me along through life.
I'll never be the person they all look to.
The "Imma 2020 president candidate," tik tok that people actually support.

No love, no nothing.
Drifting. Drifting. Drifting.
Some days I do my homework,
some days I can't even open my laptop.
It's not up to me, it's all up for grabs.
idk if I really believe that I don't have control, maybe sometimes.
Mya Apr 2019
The figure
Tall
Wearing black and white
Walking to the side
With a limp
Is he hurt?
Do I know him?
Does he know me?
My inspiration was from a movie
Letters from Lia Nov 2018
Like a wilting plant he became a limp
But he fought
He fought the heavy burdens
Like a traveler
He lost his way to the heart
of the woman he love
He was blinded
He was crippled
But again he fought
Things were too complex to be solved
Things are too hard to understand
But the love will last
And the moments will embed in his heart
siin.li
b Sep 2018
bodies for my shrapnel
lay limp on the street
like dogs in the summer time.
i will bring my storm to you.
have faith in my punch,
believe it.

but don’t you trust
a survivor.
they wouldnt know
how to leave a city in wake.
they wouldnt know not to
pull the knife out.

i am a hurricane with skin
and i will
rip your house in half
if i have time to catch a glimpse.

you can pack your bags
and flee but
i dont stay gone.
i live on forever,
i dont die easy.
the toll will raise.
i havent had internet for awhile so im posting a few that have been building up
Poetic T Mar 2018
Limp effigies of childhood memories,
             still holding so many secrets.
   Woven within tattered tears,
                        now long since evaporated.


Now vacant, an amnesia of fallen promises
           that are retained.
                     But uninhabited threads,
          decompose beneath every dewdrop.
becoming  undone.
Poetic T Dec 2017
That carrot, what could be said a little girl gave her,
                    Well we wondered why an anatomically
Correct Miss Snow lady had such an amicable smile.

Her nose always seemed to descend to below,
                         She had a friend but his carrot was as
Limp as could be, it wasn’t his fault it’s the cold you see…

But never fear, where there is ingenuity there is away…
                 In their morning Miss Snow seemed to ice up below,
But she seemed to have a rather defrosted glow…

For when it was time for this artificial carrot to wind down,
              She evaporated in pleasure but Mr Snowman was still there
***** but no place to go. Poor Mr Snowman,
                                                          we'll blame it on the cold…
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