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Heidi Franke Dec 2024
My tongue left me lost
Telling stories of jungle and mirth
Vines around my voice
Sounds that were not mine
Leaked out

My mind escaped all my plans
Evading the minstrel of imagination
Symbolically dampening my conceptions
Reluctant troupe performance
A coy castaway

My legs marched without me
Trampled every blade of grass
Concluding I have no where left to run
No path at all
Upright disorderly conduct
On two feet

My heart forbade another beat
Leaving a bowl of dust to swirl
Aimless joys and sorrows
Suddenly freeze dried
coagulant
Without conduction for lust
Or anger
Thumpless

My life dropping out of sight
Evading the drones
Searching for me
Here I lay in this late hour
Evaporating like the rain puddle
With no where to go
On the hottest day of the year
Dissipating until
I vanish
Growing old challenges. Nothing is what it was before. Seems like a dream. If only I had paid more attention to the moments.
My Dear Poet May 2024
Leave what’s LEFT behind
Till you’re found RIGHT there
LEFT RIGHT there
LEFT RIGHT there

WHEN I WAS BORN MY DADDY LEFT! left, right, left.
LATER ON MY MOMMA LEFT! left, right, left.

I was LEFT RIGHT behind
left, right, left
M Solav Jul 2023
It is as if I were

Truly, marching, numb,
Blind despite standing
On a pillar above the sun,
Bathing in an ocean of
Clarity, clean, dumb
A kind of understanding
Or a stellar love, a unison
Dripping in slow-motion.

It is as if I were

Well fastened to a past
Faint, absent, steady,
Found elsewhere once more,
Begrudgingly opaque,
As sequestered and cast
Paint spent uneasily
Around canvases ashore,
Erosionally awake.

It is as if I were

On the verge now,
Ready to step onward,
Dare, envision, try,
If but for a moment
In an urge somehow
To unravel the skies afar
Care, abandon, fly,
And not ever lament:

It is as if I were.
Written on July 15th, 2023.

This picture was written to accompany a picture by Tim Gentle (@atimosabeart). See the result at: instagram.com/p/Cuu9oUnPkPi


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact info@msolav.com for usage requests. Thank you.
Jonathan Sep 2020
A year that feels like ten.

A never ending road of broken glass.

With shredded feet and calloused progress,

We march on.
Trumpets' fanfare, riding, riding
'Neath the Blue and Red,
Gallopped Marshal Jimmy Donald
While the Tunak fled.

Marshal Jim rode off the valley
Down to Tunak-land;
Rounding off the sub-bots and
The Kumars' brutal hand.

Raise the standard, sons of iron!
Charge, ye horsemen brave!
Soar, ye warplanes, into battle,
We've got lives to save!

Marshal Jimmy, our commander,
You direct the way!
Through the dim and crooked darkness
To a bright new day.
Haylin Aug 2019
That feeling you get
When you finish the show
Before anyone starts clapping.

That feeling of breathlessness and accomplishment all at the same moment.

That my friend, is what we march for.
I just finished band camp 2 weeks ago and tonight we just had our first rehearsal and I've got to say, this has been the best time of my life. I love these people and I can't wait to spend the next 2 years with them
Haylin Jul 2019
I step through the door
of the place which feels
more like home than my house

My ears fill
with sounds of drumsticks on drums
mallets on marimbas

My eyes fall upon flutes, clarinets
trumpets and tubas

I look up at my family
none of which are related to me
yet they
make
this
place
home.
I just joined band this year and it's only been 6 days and I already feel at home.
Fervent warriors come upon a field,
A trickle of men storming the grassy abyss,
prepared with shields upon their hearts
and weapons ready at the finger tips.
Their hearts oscillating to the war cries
and to the sounding drummer's march.
A prevalent threat casting shadows overhead;
Awaiting the freedom bell and the open air,
the men charge with their pens cocked
and their ink basins filled to the brim.
Kayla Gallant Dec 2018
We know this isn't good for us
This rinse and repeat
Rut **** of a life
Yet here we are
Marching
In this clone army
Brains exposed
Bathing in acid
Killing ourselves
Slowly
Not too fast
Hate to cut this misery short
God forbid we follow the exit signs
Carved into our souls
Don't die a copy ❤
mer Sep 2018
left --
left --
left --

stepping in sync
in stiff uniforms
shoes go: clack, clack

left --
left --
left --

memorizing songs
the temperature is never
comfortable

left --
left --
left --

marching backwards on our toes
counting steps
and playing music

left --
left --
left --

all with a smile

left --
left --
left --
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