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Aparna Sep 5
through diaphonous blinds

radiant sunlit boughs

high noon;

restive breaths drawn

in palpable pain

balmy wind caresses;

disquietude loud

as sparrows chirped,

hints of perspiration

upon delirious forehead


she fell asleep

as calescence spread

waiting for pain to abate
❨cramps got me thinking❩

❛That's the thing about pain,it demands to be felt❜
- The Fault In Our Stars
chi Aug 16
noon, tayo ay nag mahalan
bumuo tayo ng mga pangakong aking pinang hawakan
gumawa tayo ng mga bagay na nag resulta ng sobrang kaligayahan

ngayon, wala na; wala ng tayo
kinalimutan at binalewala mo ang ating mga pangako
pero sinta, ako'y hayaan mo
tutuparin ko kung ano man ang ating na plano

at sa hinaharap, patuloy kitang mamahalin
ang ating sinimulan, itutuloy ko parin
kahit ako nalang mag isa, at ikaw ay hindi na akin
here’s to all my filos out there <3
A whole day lives in a room
That accommodates the noon,
Which is just before the afternoon
And when no one sees the moon.

No one regards the noon,
But yet regard afternoon
Which comes after the visitation of the noon.

By heart dances to the noon tune,
When I'm said to be immune
And is unheard of having danger loom,
While it stays in its room.

Approaching comes the noon with fumes,
Even without perfumes,
Giving a beautiful tune
Than that of a sand dune.

A minute lasts the noon,
When silence may last in a room,
So does the noon leave boom,
Thereby leaving the afternoon
To rule the rest of the day,
Before the approach of the moon.

But look...
Approaching comes the noon.
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2019
Oh, you already had a look?
Not me I am not hooked
but tell me if you could
how did it look?
Please tell us the truth.

Like the sun at noon
shining upon the rose?
Or a veiled beauty
in the dark hewn
like the Moon?
Chris Jan 2019
One morning, down a lonely path,
Wandered two friends, Me, and Death.
One morning while the sun did rise,
Walked the path my friend and I.

An came we across a man,
Whose life was sad, whose life was cruel,
And came we to understand,
Man was but a poor, poor fool.

And came we across a horse,
Whose riding days have long since passed,
And came we on our morning course,
To shame the first and pity the last.

To all things this might be true.
You shame me, I pity you.

And came we across a crow,
While the sun behind did shine,
And blackened it the early glow,
Yet it's darkness was divine,

And came we across a sheep,
In its curly coat ov wool,
And as is likely to repeat,
Sheep was also but a fool.

To all things this I might say,
You block the path, I fly away.

And time to choose came all too soon,
Which ov them to take with us,
On our lonely path to noon,
Whose time here did really pass?

In the end we chose the man,
Or rather HE, he makes the rules,
He told me, as only death can:
I never learned to pity fools.

After him, He chose the sheep,
Grim reaper swung his fingers forth
And as blood ran, no man did weep,
Said He: cries are but for human sort.

His mercy did end to receive,
Neither white sheep nor the fool.
Neither stupid nor naive,
Are free from His grip cold and cruel.

To all things this must be true,
We're only sheep, both me and you.

One morning, down a lonely path,
Wandered two friends, Me, and Death,
As soon as the noon light shows,
Death will walk this path alone.
ollie Nov 2018
I have a buddy who smiles like high noon
It’s around the time before the moon really takes place in the sky
His smile bleeds your heart dry as if he were a homeless man begging for your cash on a street corner
It takes 8 minutes and 20 seconds for the sun to reach the earth
To remember how to give me warmth
But when it’s winter I’m wearing a beanie for a reason
My head is cold
He can extend his arms
And pull me into a hug
Because being wrapped in his arms is warm enough during December months
And when I say his smile is like high noon I mean it like his tongue sticks through his teeth and clouds are covering the sky
I firmly believe that I would be fully blind and not partially if his tongue did not shield me from part of his teeth
His smile makes the sun envious
His innocence cries over drinking orange juice
My buddy is like high noon
There is a fire inside me that wants to tell you why I insist he is not the breathtaking beauty of a sunset
And the truth is
There is too much softness in a sunset
For a boy who wants to fight
And was told by his country that he couldn’t
You don’t see the heartbreak of a 13 at the time year old boy on the news
You just see the announcement
It tastes bittersweet
How he’s the alienated student in these hallways
How many times have you had to sit back while your identity was being debated like you weren’t in the room
I did this morning
And I know he does every day
I used to see scars on the back of this kid’s legs before people were wise enough to treat him
More like a person
And less like a headline
And less like something new in this day and age
I write about him because more often than sometimes, I’m too scared to write about myself
Don’t let me see what I am
I know we’re both thinking it
I am too young to be on a stage
I don’t know where to go to perform this ****
There are no rules in slam poetry
And if I’m going to slam my heart out I better do it the right way
I am that right note to pull on your heartstrings until you bleed from the way I’m playing them
I don’t write poetry like a teenage girl but I like poetry like a feeling
Like a burst of energy
I write poetry like your parents want to have me over for dinner to see if I speak in sonnets regularly
If a rose by any other name would smell twice as sweet why can’t he change his
Why can’t I change mine
If a boy by any other name may respond twice as quickly then why are we not allowed to change them
Why are we the topic of your family’s thanksgiving dinner discussion and why are we the coffee shop poets
Why are we the impossibility of a high school wall
Why am I not ten feet tall when I perform this
Why is it ironic that I’m a poet who can’t snap
I don’t like coffee
I can’t play the piano
But I’ll pull your heartstrings like keys
Pity the plain boy in his glasses
Because that’s who I am
Destined to be a plain boy
And if I have to tie your heartstrings together to end this poem, don’t think I won’t
Kalon R Oct 2018
It started as an ache,
An ache that always whispered:
"You'll never belong" but then
It became an obsession
of finding that belonging
but always knowing that I won't.

So what am I to do? A lost American
With generational displacement.
Do I keep searching
or try to find it in her (whoever she is)
or just mask it...
Until I die
Creating my own culture of melancholy
"Maybe home is somewhere I'm going and never been before'
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
A magic mo
      --- without
a teary backdrop!
One step down
beneath the Moon.
Gone with the wind.
Once in the nick of time
upon a peak of the noon.
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