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teju May 3
Confused soul.
A little sad, kind of bored,
still catching sparks in my head.

Twenties feel strange
especially twenty-five,
like I’m walking in shoes
that never really fit right.

Sometimes I wonder
why I think a guy could shift my world,
when most days,
I can’t even shift my mood.

It doesn’t make sense.
Maybe it’s not supposed to.
But who cares,
it’s not even realistic.

The feeling comes in waves:
quiet, weird, a bit silly.
Like I miss someone
I’ve never even met.

I’ve given myself
all the right speeches
be strong,
be your own person.
you don’t need anyone,
just live your life.

But then I think of him.
Whoever he is.
And it all feels soft
and silly again.

Like maybe I’d kiss him,
then laugh,
because it’s all so
embarrassing and human.

I ask the universe, softly,
show me the way.
Maybe I’m not lost,
or totally lost,
just letting
the quiet moments hold me.
malinkee Apr 29
A. wasn’t one to mince her words. Fierce, quick-tempered, loyal to the bone — the sort who once played handball, and could silence a room with a single look. These days, she stuck to peppermint tea and the occasional passive-aggressive text, often punctuated with “...” and a well-placed fine then.

Her husband, V., was the quiet sort. Kind, in that maddeningly detached way. Spoke in half-sentences, disappeared into the shed when emotions flared, and claimed he was “thinking” whenever things got awkward — which, frankly, was often.

Then one morning, A. woke up and noticed her right index finger had vanished.

Not broken. Not bandaged. Just... gone. Like it had got fed up and walked off in the night.

— Have you seen my finger? — she asked, holding up her hand as if she'd misplaced her keys.
— Have you checked the bedside table? — V. said, without even looking up from the crossword.
— Oh yes, darling, it’s probably nestled next to my dignity and your listening skills.

She glared. He blinked. Back to business as usual.

The days ticked by. She managed — stirred tea with her pinky, tapped out angry messages with her thumb, gestured like an arthritic conductor. But something in her simmered.

Because she’d been building up to something. Something final.

You know the sort — the big conversation. The “we need to talk”, the emotional hand grenade with the pin already halfway out. She had the whole thing rehearsed. Words sharp as cutlery. Tone set to devastating but controlled.

And when the moment came — she raised her hand, ready to metaphorically pull the trigger...

Nothing.

No finger.
No bang.
Just her, stood there with a half-formed point and a face full of steam.

V. looked up, calm as anything, and said:

— I think I saw your finger near the mirror. Might’ve slipped off while you were rehearsing all those dramatic pauses.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or hit him with a cushion.

Since then, she’s kept the finger in her coat pocket — not for pointing, but just to remind herself: sometimes, not saying it is the louder choice.

And V.?
Well, he’s started coming back inside when there’s shouting. Even makes the tea now — once in a while, unasked.
Damocles Apr 24
What is happiness?
I dare say it's the early parts of spring
Where the blooms first start their beautiful display
Pink Hyacinths, cherry blossoms, dandelions
The eager fluttering of buttery butterflies
Or the curious buzzing pauses of a bumble bee.

The green buds on ancient oaks
Or the tiny growths of hydrangeas,
It's in the beauty of warmer days, sun bathed
And a milder evening by the bonfire.

Happiness is in company kept,
A cold beer and smoked BBQ,
It is the music we dance to or annoy the neighbors with.
It’s in the good times and memories
Creating new ones as we come together.

Happiness is a dirt or bridled trail
Verdant walls of trees and those arboreal things
Squirrels rustling in susurrus steps
And bird singing their symphonies
Bidding for applause in their skyward stage

Happiness is blue skies
With cotton ball clouds,
And sunbeams touching down
To highlight the cricket fiddling.

Happiness is in the littlest things
We barely notice, as if it were as common as a breath
But if you disconnect, let the stress melt
And focus on how alive our earthen mother is
You would see, in every step, on every twirl
Happiness is one sunlit day away.
One can never truly explain happiness accurately, but this is what makes me happy, currently.
Monkey Writes Apr 18
A saturnine mood
fell over the land
when news broke Saturday
the billionaire buffoon
wasn’t rocketing to Saturn
after all.
Hoping for that jovial day
neth jones Apr 14
a high mood                                          
could skip along like a child
a practical joke      i give a sharp pull
         on the strings of Everything
jape's on me                                          
         as i am tugged from off of my feet
           and tumbled on the ground
         laughing any-which-way

the day sky   fills with lenses          
                    enough to displace the stars
but there too much for them to see
efforts made mockable
the pattern baffling the pattern
with misunderstood importance

release      and i enjoy the sun
                 for being the sun
from  04/23 ?
Decembre Apr 12
On dreary days
When the sky is grey
And the light is white
My state of mind
Is mine to choose.
To wallow or to waver
Or to cherish and to savour.

But on days when warmth
Seeps into my skin
And I’m pleasantly glowing;
With tiredness seeping out
I can only be at peace.
Barb J Rose Mar 25
i'm not in the mood to talk right now
save your prayers to another day
keep your hands to yourself today
'cause i'm not in the mood, i'm not in the mood
you spoke the three words, the taboo ones
you praised me to my bones
but somehow i don't love you
i want you to hate me, throw me away
please don't talk to me, i'm on my way
away from your arms, away from your cries and actions
taking a step back, trying to move back from where we were
so simple and unspoken
bleeding and broken
and i'm not in the mood, i'm not in the mood
read this poem and then "You never loved me"
A sable veil, a crepuscular drape,
Wherein the soul, a phantom, finds its shape.
A nocturne played on strings of frayed despair,
A hollow resonance, a vacant, frigid air.
The mind, a labyrinth of obsidian hue,
Where phantoms dance, and truths are skewed anew.
A pallid moon, a sickly, waning gleam,
Reflects the void, a fractured, broken dream.
The heart, a sepulchre of frozen tears,
Where joy lies buried, choked by shadowed fears.
A silent requiem, a mournful, solemn chime,
For life's bright tapestry, consumed by creeping time.
The body, vessel frail, a spectral frame,
Endures the tempest, whispers not a name.
A brittle echo, in a vacant, vast domain,
Where solace flees, and only shadows reign.
A somber canvas, painted dark and deep,
Where anguished secrets, silently they sleep.
A cryptic cipher, etched in mournful prose,
Depression's shadow, where the spirit goes.
Themes & Mood:
* Depression, Despair, Melancholy: These are the foundational emotions. The "frayed despair," "vacant, frigid air," and "frozen tears" directly depict these states.
* Existentialism & Nihilism: The "void," "vacant, vast domain," and "brittle echo" suggest a sense of meaninglessness and the absence of inherent value.
* Loss & Grief: The "sepulchre of frozen tears" and "silent requiem" point to a deep sense of loss, likely of joy, hope, or even a sense of self.
* Isolation & Loneliness: The "phantom" soul, "vacant, vast domain," and "solace flees" emphasize the feeling of being utterly alone.
* Darkness, Void, Shadows: These are recurring motifs, representing the overwhelming presence of negative emotions and the absence of light and hope.
* Mourning & Requiem: The "silent requiem" explicitly states a sense of mourning, a formal lament for something lost.
* Anguish & Sorrow: The "anguished secrets" and overall tone of sadness convey deep emotional pain.
Imagery & Style:
* Gothic & Dark Poetry: The language is rich with dark imagery, creating a gothic atmosphere. Words like "sepulchre," "phantom," "spectral," and "nocturne" evoke a sense of darkness and decay.
* Symbolism & Metaphor:
   * "Sable veil" and "crepuscular drape" symbolize the obscuring of light and joy.
   * "Labyrinth of obsidian hue" represents the confused and trapped state of the mind.
   * "Sepulchre of frozen tears" symbolizes the heart as a place of buried emotions.
   * "strings of frayed despair" shows the breaking point of the emotional state.
* Imagery: The poem is visually evocative, painting a picture of a dark, desolate landscape.
* Nocturne & Crepuscular: These terms emphasize the twilight and night, times associated with darkness, mystery, and introspection.
* Phantom & Spectral: These words suggest a sense of unreality, a feeling of being disconnected from life.
* Labyrinth: representing the complicated and confusing nature of the mind.
* Sepulchre: A tomb, representing the death of emotions.
Emotional Tone:
* Sadness, Hopelessness, Desolation: These emotions permeate the entire poem, creating a sense of overwhelming despair.
* Fear: The "shadowed fears" and the overall sense of darkness contribute to a feeling of anxiety and dread.
* Loneliness: The isolation of the "phantom" soul and the "vacant, vast domain" emphasize the feeling of being utterly alone.
In essence, the poem creates a powerful and immersive experience of deep melancholy and existential despair by using vivid imagery, symbolic language, and a consistent tone of sadness and hopelessness. It is a testament to the power of language to convey the darkest corners of the human experience.
Her Mar 10
i am 28 years old
still trying to figure out
the meaning to all of this
confused on human emotion
confused on life

but

i know this familiar feeling
the feeling of being lost
of not knowing
what way is up
what way is down
what way is left
what way is 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

this time though
my self soothing is not working
not like how it use to atleast

i am not panicking
i am not jumping ship
i am not escaping
all like i normally would
in my past

no

this time is different
this time is 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵
neth jones Feb 17
courting breaths   after blue i brighten
       i lighten   with originless humour
and then ugliness anew                          
   i tighten   into some packed pearl of monster
breathe in   breathe out   courting breaths
the susurration    of all this lung
resuscitation    and it's 'good morning mourning'

then 'bring out the empathy' !  and zitty connections
and marvel over   'those poor things'          
larval in their struggles   up the redline
and envision throwing them heaps               
of hairdryers  salad spinners  monopoly boards
            vibrating cushions  for back massage
and obscure tinned delicacies  from my extensive travels
the five devils of my mind  tackle my erratic breath
five mad ideas  of how to run their lives
                        milk their hive
form a worship  and go to war..

..then it is i who goes larval                  
                          carving in on my minuscule heart
crutching in like a fractured pill bug
not daring to raise my eyes      
             for fear of offending my superiors
breathe in   breathe out
counting down the breaths til rattle
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