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Starry Aug 27
As I try to fall
Adleep
I see the ultraviolet glow
Of the neon signs from out side side
Making this seem
A French noir
Madhumita Mar 20
I shall let you go now –
you were but a lucid dream;
a plume of fantasies
I exhaled in a lurch of longing.

Let me say goodbye
before I forget… to miss you.
Darling, you were the knife
I used to cut through
this long nursed ache that is life.
Deb Jones Dec 2018
She sat at her desk
Silhouetted in black and white
Sipping from a highball glass
A cigarette in a long
Jade holder, stained dark
Crimson from her
Perfectly painted lips
Burning to ash
That is tapped
Toward the ashtray
But without fail falls to the floor
She scratches out words
Seldom taking a break
She is so full of emotions
She doesn’t have to even think
The intense hurt
The hot feeling of shame
The ice that is even now
Starting to encase her heart
And so much more
Poured out onto
Rich white cotton paper
Using a feathered nib
With a short squat bottle of ink
She writes so fast the pages
Fill with her fiery pain.
And the writing helps
Cool her hurt
Even as the tears trickle down
Her beautiful face
In these moments of pain
Her face is laid bare
But that doesn’t detract
From her beauty
Her seemingly poreless face.
She finally sets the pen
In its inkwell.
Her cigarette in the ashtray
As she sits back
In her brocaded seat
Her silhouette now
Is diminished
As if her words carried weight
That is now
Transferred to paper
She rests for a moment.
Before going to bed
She really does feel lighter
After everything is said.
Such is our poets of old
Passions.
Defined by words
I never take any poetry
For granted
I too want to obtain absolution
In my words.
From my words
OV Dec 2018
She screams and begs for mercy
Bleeding on the floor
The world stops, now she moves on
reverse haiku. Think of this in a Noir movie vibe. Not many words exchanged. Just sweet amd to the point.
noir Dec 2018
Black raindrops
Dyeing everything they touch
In a delicious shade of sadness
Even the roses
Dead
Black
Fading
Drawing life from everything they touch
Recollections of the days we have lost
They’ve all left us
Alone
Cold
We too shall drown
Drown in our raindrops and roses
That’s all we’re given
And it’s all we have
The clouds
Watching
As we stand
Bullet in hand
Will I become the rose
Or will you?
part one of three in a series i´m yet to name
any ideas?
M Solav Sep 2018
La porte qui claque
A creusé un trou
Plus noir que noir
Dans le silence
De ta mémoire.

Le silence qui frappe -
Qui luit partout -
Quand vient le soir,
Il plaie les panses
Et te rend fou.

Les plaies ouvertes
Se taisent et pleurent;
Le vacarme discret
Te couvre de secousses
Et disparaît.

Enveloppé dans tes draps,
La lumière devenue ligne,
Une porte entre-ouverte -
Tu voudrais qu'elle t’explique
Cet état d'alerte.

Le temps fait violence
Mais s'apaise comme le vent.
Très vite tu t'endors,
Et les mots se font tendre
Arrivé à bon port.

La veille se couvre d'un voile
Enroulé sur tes nuits.
Toujours l'éclat de noirceur
Qui alors t'attaqua
Luira sur ta vie.
Écrit en Janvier, 2018.
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