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Rohit Rawat Jul 29
There was an eerie feeling in nature.
It was quiet.
It was unsettling.
It was creeping on me like a yearning feeling, but
I didn't recognise that feeling.

There were just trees and no man,
No ice cream trucks, just birds offering free words.
No conversations in my head
No struggle in my head
Yet it was a struggle.
Just a feeling which was alien to me
Something forgotten by me
Something called peace.
Joel K Jul 28
1 Ring
5 Rings
10 Rings
20 Rings…

I was just sleeping—
walking down the stairs
with heavy feet.

The window cracks
shining light to my face—
tempting me back to bed.
Opposite of a charming kiss
given unto a princess in slumber.



But I cant go to sleep
as she doubled the rings on the door.

So I opened the door
and like a dead corpse,
I faded by the light.

“Ahhh.”

At that moment
I remembered what I dreamt of…

“Lying and Semaniusly”
Blurted out
as I realized
I was already blocked?

“That makes no sense!”
I thought to myself.

Why would they do that?
What was the reason for it?
Was it necessary?

All of these questions
and my mind was tied
to the self-deprecating rings
that stopped me
from searching in this dream.

———————————-

To acknowledge
that I left the dream confused
was frustrating.

But cleanly
I came out of the dream—
and had to check
if it really was a dream…

Contumely so—
I left with a new word.

“Semaniusly”?
This is based of a true story lol. It just happened today after I woke up from my mom ringing the door.

I was having a dream well she was ringing the door and I dreamt of a person that had blocked me had used this word.

This is not the first time I have had an unknown word pop up in my dreams so I did research and gave it meaning by latin roots.

Sema= Sign or Symbol
Nius (in context of the word.) = personhood.

Because it was often used in peoples names like Cornelius.

-ly is an adverb which is in ly|ing.
CE Uptain Jul 25
I’ve got a new pad, 50 pages
That’s a lot of room for my rages
Enough space to spill my soul
Getting to the cardboard, that’s my goal
It might take me a while
I’ll have to laugh, cry and smile
When I finally get to the end
The cardboard will be my friend
Ops, sorry, that's what happens when I work from memory. I thought I posted this one here.
Bree Jul 23
Paralyzed. A man is watching me.
I just know. From where, I do not.
He is watching my every movement.
My every breath. I need to see him.
Just a glimpse would suffice. No. Breathing, regularly. In and out.
So NOW I’m hungry? Look up at the ceiling.
Tell yourself everything is okay.
There is a ceiling for one. That is pretty okay.
To the left of me I spy a coffee maker.
Frederick Moe Jul 21
Big miscalculation -
I left the oxygen tank
at home: discovered
that humans don’t breathe
so well
beneath the masonic ocean
Ghxstcxt Jul 21
I emerge
Reformed from old
Rebuilt anew
Transmogrified
Revitalised
A new body
A new mind
What once was, altered
Adapted from past lessons
To build on
To be better
The catalyst?
Self-reflection
Something I wrote based on the word "metamorphosis"
eliana Jul 20
Some feelings are shallow, some feelings are deep.
Some make us smile, some make us weep.

Some we love, some we don't.
Some we'll savor, some we won't.

Some grounding, some uplifting,
Some long-lasting, some constantly shifting.

No matter what feelings I'm feeling today,
I know tomorrow is only a day away.
A great tragedy occurs when the bad days numb us to the good ones. Try to enjoy the good days, because they don't last that long. Try not to fear the bad days, because they won't last that long. Whether time is currently your friend or foe, however it can help you today, remember today won't last that long.
True love ain’t easy, it’s hard, it’s stone-cold tough,
It’s stubborn like the mountains, like edges sharp and rough.
Yet soft and still like quiet clay, it holds you in its hand,
One day it makes you stronger, the next you barely stand.

One day it makes you laugh so loud, the next it makes you cry,
It breaks you down and builds you up, it lifts your spirit high.
But in the end, even the hardest stones will sink and melt away,
Their strength and pride will fade to dust, in soft and quiet clay.

And still, love stays, it stays through pain, through storms you walk on through,
Because it changes how you see the world, it paints your sky more true.
This is love, the real kind, raw, the kind that makes you see,
That even when it hurts so much, it’s where your soul feels free.
Sam Jennings:
What’s coming must be new — must be strange and fitful, awkward and passionate. A lover rediscovering the world, confused by its tactless kisses, yet charmed, endlessly but
its dents and imperfections, its sadness and its religion,
the dimples where its ancient smile

~~~~~~~
Oh, how I unabashedly covet his words,
Oh, how I wish all lovers here,
the would be lovers,
the never~me-woulda~coulda~crying when & why,
dinged and damaged by
first or failed prior attempts,
the oft heard discouraging words,
or worse the chilled silence of ghosting

The new romanticism,
colored by technology, damaged by the quiet disappearance of
dropouts hiding behind untrue names,
hid behind blackened screens,
and loss of shame & embarrassment at and of
the sadness that pervades the religion of these days of
lesser actual romantic love

Embrace the dents and the imperfections,
avoid those who present measuring cups of their attractives listed in priority order qualifications,
indeed
realize that it is within the dimples and smiles,
most genuine.
lies the yellow brick road
to the red rubies,
adorning the crown we seek,
of good love, true love,
with all of its accompanying
imperfections
unhid inside the dings, dents,
even inside the dimples and smiles.
and your own starry scars,
for who among can free admit,
it's imperfections that are
the most inviting
to only love poets
Any typoes?
S Daralen Jul 15
Summer night give me hope that winter stole

I like summer—not in the "summer is the best" way—
but in the way the sky looks so clear, so infatuating,
While it hides lies beneath the blue.

I like how the summer wind gives me hope—maybe the promise can be fulfilled.

The summer night breeze carries a sense of comfort,
it reminds me of the good days,
reminds me how I got past the bad ones.
It tell me i can.
The cool wind, in contrast to the warmth—I love that.

Yet I hate summer.
I hate how the hope I buried so deep is floating again.
I hate how I think I might be able to do it now.
Summer kisses my forehead
then leaves me sunburnt,
And stupid with its light and hope.

I hate how the sun burns my skin,
while the hope burns my heart,
It scorchers my bones.

It reminds me of the past,
but not in the cruel winter way.
Rather—
in the "you are so brave, you got past that" kind of way.
It makes me feel like I’m someone.
Someone important.

I hate it.
I hate how the sky looks so beautiful,
The "remember when" moments,
The smell of rain on hot pavement;
the air that lingers with scents I love—
yet I can’t go outside.
The sun will burn me.

Summer makes me like i can do it but when i do
It leaves,
And, thats all it does.
Like it never loved me,
just the idea of saving me.
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