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LC Apr 14
at the end of the afterlife,
when the dust finally settles,
she climbs into a warm bed
made of soft, wispy clouds,
listening to lilting melodies,
from her childhood memories,
falling into a peaceful slumber.
#escapril day 13!
Holding my breath so I can take control.
Feelings unrest, I can’t seem to grow.
Problems unsolved, it’s an overload.
Losing my mind right before I explode.

I said I’m foretold to be the truth.
Swear an oath, but it didn’t bare any roots.
At any given moment one could lose his youth. Don’t know who he is cause he wears another mans boots.  
Walking irritations, bearing all the earnings of their fruits.
Limits are escalating and I’m tarring down the roof.
A Course to deviation, unable to see any other routes .
  Blind to temptations.
The struggle fits me like a  suit.

Holding my breath so I can take control.
Feelings unrest, I can’t seem to grow.
Problems unsolved, it’s an overload.
Losing my mind right before I explode.

Time is deteriorating, everyday life of a destitute.  
 Waters are evaporating and I’m thirsty for whatever’s absolute.
Problems eternally materializing, full of sorrow and solitude.
Emptiness continuously multiplying, like a disease it pollutes.
Visions are tremendously horrifying, wishing to **** the sound and become a mute.
The story’s are ultimately glorifying, ghoulish torment and Chaos to distribute.
Nothing but hesitation.
Loneliness overtaking, going through all these hoops.
Screams are instantly mesmerizing, the ending is what They Pursue.

Holding my breath so I can take control.
Feelings unrest, I can’t seem to grow.
Problems unsolved, it’s an overload.
Losing my mind right before I explode.
Erian Rose Dec 2020
Leave me
Late-night dreaming
On rose-painted canvases
And grayscale prints,
While the rain
Hums a tune of
Pitter-patter
Melodies.
I'm thinking of creating a non-profit literary journal to give y'all a platform to submit poems for publications.  Would you guys be down for that?
Leah Hilliges Sep 2020
It danced to different melodies
and hid behind my eyes--
But
When it tumbled out of my mouth,
The word tasted foreign,
Like a soft peach on a winters eve,
Or a sour plum on a hot summer day.
Give me your words
Sounds of comfort in need
I’m running as I heard
My name whispering through the trees
Miserable sorrowful song bird
Singing of undesirable seeds and deeds
I’m taking a wrong turn
I’m lost within these streets

Is my name drowning
For air I pray and crave
My heart is aching and pounding
To time I am a slave
I must of been unbelievably mistaken
For this path I wish not to pave
My mind has been awaken
Form the past to this present day

Give me your words
Give me your words
hybridstorm Jul 2020
As I ride my bicycle,
Its wheel going a dull dum-dum-dum
on the veranda tiles.
I hearken to the straining of
the bicycle chain
and screeching o so soft when I turn the steering.
I feel as though something is changing in me.
A light cool breeze enters my chest,
expanding, releasing, expanding, releasing.
As I listen to the endless melodies of the stone tile,
I feel as though something is changing in me.
As I hear the faint yawn of the wheels,
I feel cracking, twisting, shedding,
and I realize,
the work of the bicycle and tile.

                                                                   -storm-
Change and wisdom may come from very unexpected places, it is your duty to pay attention, all senses and energies concentrated.
Mark Toney Jul 2020
birdsong melodies
gentle wind caressing leaves
~ pleasing perfect pitch




© 2020 Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.
7/2/2020 - Poetry form: Haiku - © 2020 Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.
Coleen Mzarriz Apr 2020
Beyond words — beyond feelings — beyond music; beyond, you.

Soaking into words
seemed sillier than plunging into water — the lake in the twinkling moonlight.

Beyond words — that I could imagine
the artistry in your eyes
to tell you
how wonderful — the flowers
the lush pastures
the wild greenflies
of the forest.

Beyond feelings — the untouchable kisses
of the moonlight
beaming into the pond
How spectacular?
To look at the wet lilies — lying there — it found its tranquility.

Beyond music — the harmony of the crickets
the birds' songs moaning
into the midnight
finding some nests
to have rest — beauty isn't the perfect phrase
that drives it sufficiency
to understand its hymns.

Beyond you — peering at the dear sky
the blueness of your existence
makes it heavier
to lose the sight
of the awe-struck
lips that I couldn't pick up
what you were telling.

My heart-beat echoing yours
it was beyond paint — beyond melodies
of how I wish to define the place
the feelings — the sonnets,
and you.
Never compare yourself to anyone.
You are great yourself—not greater than anyone, not better than everyone.
But better than your lying mind.
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