Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ave 5h
you're in the final rest
before the ground swallows you back
whole - in little pieces
stacked on top of your other selves,

a huddle as dense as your bones are hollow
a refuge for bugs that fear the light
a lesson for curious hands,
as they cut at your thorns

weeds inter-stitch between the tiny gaps that you allow
they may be the last grain of life you care to pierce your skin
and the next life that proudly takes over

you cannot give without also being taken

your final rest, so sure and surely uncertain
it is yours, before the fearful bugs come to feast for the last time
yours, before the curious hands come to set you ablaze
to help them see better at night

as it is a space that you occupy
I forget myself sometimes
in nettles and dead wood
as feet step on, envious of small things
that skip through barbed brambles
like ladder rungs to new space

I’ll content myself with lungs of open air
and try to care less about slings and arrows
and my Brobdingnagian clump

to be allowed here is enough
Zywa 22h
It rains all the time,

we're wading among the fish –

through the humid air.
“Cien años de soledad” (“One Hundred Years of Solitude”, 1967, Gabriel García Márquez)

Collection "After the festivities"
Jeremie 23h
Our eternity has come to an end.
Yesterday’s Love is now but a distant dream,
drifting away at the speed of death
with no agent of regret to slow it down..

My heart has sat within the field of our love, patiently waiting for you to return to the center of your heart and remember the pathless path that leads to this field.

Spring came, I laughed with orchids, prayed with trees that bow their branches before the setting sun, and learned the song of the bees that sing to the flowers within this field. But you, mylove, were nowhere to be found..

Summer came, I witnessed the innocence and harmony of nature, I watched the rays of the radiant sun make love to our fertile earth and bloom a garden in the hues of her emerald aura. But you, mylove, were nowhere to be found..

Autumn came, the butterflies told me stories of their harvest and their resurrection through death. I helped the Earth paint the leaves of the walking trees in orange, brown and red, and I learned the faith of a withering rose dancing in the light of the sun. But you, mylove, were nowhere to be found..

Winter has come, and you are nowhere to be found, mylove. The earth of my body is not made to withstand the absence of the sun. Shelter I must seek or I will die in this field, cold and alone. It seems I am doomed to hold you, only in my memories of you.

Grateful I am still! For in the haven of my memories my heart will find solace, as death carries me to a world where Love is found.

goodbye ..
“Death is not an end, but a bridge” said the butterfly to the caterpillar weeping in its chrysalis
A roof-top garden above us all,
trees now blossomed, the sky made small.
Morning’s crisp with color’s bright.
Bees and butterflies dance in flight.
Fragrant florals enhance the scene.
Whilst songs of birds fill between.
A busy squirrel hides their lunch.
All to be nurtured, I’ve a hunch.
Grassy patches catch the sun.
Warmth is felt where winter’s none.
Spring is here with glory and grace.
Smiles return to a once chilled face.

10 years and here we are
Human race still exists.

But we know better don’t we
Cause the nature seem to agree

We assaulted nature
And saw karma
Now we know how to live in peace

Those who lived, those who didn’t die
The nature’s kids are those who survived

We thank , we pray , we care
For the nature giving all of us another shot.

We don’t hurt her with axes
We don’t feed her polythenes
We don’t **** her children anymore

We know we made mistakes
We know we didn’t do our part right
But she is Mother Nature
there is love even in her fright

She let us go
She forgave
She let us live
For the good human sake.

So we did
We promised
To make up to our mother
We be better kids
Because we don’t want
Another pandemic time out.
we are humans aren't we ,
we change
and sometimes even for the good.
The exploration of the woods decreases as the artists perfect their virtual ones
From the couch, consume a million adventures without ever stepping a stone
Evil defeated
Dopamine Depleted
Enjoy the glory all alone

The birds and bees cease to be
No eyes outside
No care if nest or hive empty
Just plastic archeology
Bare bones and silcone
Til the last leaf falls from the tree
The birds chirp,
During the sunrise,
And when it is cold,
The birds fly to the south.
They are a pretty part of nature.
Her golden fingers
weave across my
cotton candy hair.

With my eyes closed
I let her kiss my face.
"Drink me in," she says
"for I am fleeting."

I laze as long as I dare
listening to the rituals,
The wave of notes and
flutter of wings around me.

I am the decay. I am the human.
Yet, Spring and her sprites
Is there nothing better than warm sun on your skin in the spring?
Next page