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Taste the sun with your sweat today.
And as each ray clamors upon your despondent soul, allow your body to take in air.

Remember that the language you lost is as much the sweat on your skin as it is the soul inside you.

No te olvidas de las palabras de tus padres.

Recuérdate que tus memorias son flores en tu árbol.

As those soft black petals patter onto the dirt at your roots, you realize that good or bad, they dissolve into the soil and come back to you again.  

Si quieres, juntate con todo el muerto que no conoces.

En esta tierra tuya, no puedes correr sin llegar aquí otra vez.

Because you can't run away from yourself. Because your legs are stumps, rooted toes embedded in the present. But your body bends with the wind and your leaves grow brown.

Here, everything becomes an extension of you, cada hoja que cae, cada pétalo *****,
The sweat in the sun, the stomach you hate.

The memories that remind you why.

Son sólo extensiones de tu cuerpo, de ti mismo.
Atoosa Apr 2019
Optimistic voice
Cheerful greeting from a friend
Connect and support
A friendly voice can make all the difference in your day
Atoosa Apr 2019
cherry blossoms fall
trees weeping for their homeland
tears of pink and white
I wrote this on the night I found out about the tsunami in Japan in 2011.

Now every spring season when cherry blossoms bloom I remember And I know that nation is still recovering
Lydia Apr 2018
Please, God, give me some reason to check my phone
I was making excuses to stay awake
The adrenaline ran out and I felt every ounce of pain that had been lurking in the bruises
I screamed in the shower, feeling the water drip off of my skin
I felt it beat and roll off in too much of a rush
I couldn't get it out of my hair
I did technically write this yesterday. There was no prompt
Please comment :)
Lydia Apr 2018
All the lights
Broken glass and confusion, I think
National Poetry Month day three! Ten words or less.
Please comment :)
Lydia Apr 2018
All of the little things I can fall in love with

We just didn't spend enough time in jeans and flannels
She had no idea what she was doing and she wasn't fooling anyone
She wasn't even trying
"This looks good," she said, halfway up the hiking trail
She laid her flannel out over a grassy clearing and promptly fell asleep

And he fell exactly where he stood
One drop of blood was exactly enough to relieve his soul from its duty of living
He was exactly at his breaking point and they knew it behind the trigger
Pointing exactly at the palm of his left hand

******* and surrender piggybacked off of each other

If she was the sun, then I was definitely getting my dose of vitamin D
(And a halfway decent tan for once)
Her hair looked like a Pantene commercial and her teeth seemed to be painted white

When I was a child, I thought that flowers died in the winter because they couldn't get water from the frozen earth
I must have ripped up half my mother's garden on the first cool day
I brought them inside, and drowned them in buckets of warm water
23 years later, my mother hasn't stopped laughing

School was out for the week, but I imagined that most of the kids from her class wouldn't go back at all
She asked for help, but we couldn't save her from nightmares or flashbacks
Couldn't even hold her hand through every single one
So her parents and her teachers are in therapy being told it wasn't there faults
But I know it wasn't mine

We made dinner on the stove from a box
She was laughing the whole time-
I told her to wait and watch the pasta while I stepped out for a minute
I set up candles in the living room in front of the TV
We sat on the floor in front of the couch, watching NCIS with candles and cheap ready meals

"This never has to end," I told her
We don't have to have to leave this bedroom
Her Christmas lights reflected off the whites of her eyes as she showed me point ballet in her pajamas
I was not a very effective partner, but this is what she was built for
And I was built to love her, one scene at a time,
One LED bulb
One shaky lift
I spun her like a little girl instead of a dancer
National Poetry Month Day 2!! I had no prompt for this, it's the second time I've used this title to describe a not quite random set of stories that can either be read separately or together as one narrative.
If anyone wants to follow along with me you can use that as a prompt :)

Please comment :)
Lydia Apr 2018
She was late
And I mean too late
Every single time
I wanted to hope for something
I wanted to fall in love
I tried to fall in love but
She was too late

And he had no idea what he was doing
He was lonely and probably looking for her, actually but
He didn't try very hard
He just sort of waited and waited
But he never quite gave up because he wanted all of this time to be worth something

He was exciting, all decked out in neon lights
But he reeked of alcohol
And I actually regret him,
But I can't quite remember so I try not to think about it

She wore a floral dress
Professional but positive
And finally someone was happy

He was a bit of a joke
Spilled his coffee, dropped his papers
But someone was always there to pick up the pieces
We liked having him around

He was quiet-
I didn't know him very well

She was a ballet dancer
Strong and graceful and tired
Full of long practice and habitual action
It's National Poetry Month! This is for yesterday... I noticed there weren't any prompts on the blog so I stole this from Pinterest: describe every day of the week as if they were a person.

Please comment :)
Laura Slaathaug Apr 2017
Tell nature that she can’t fit
all seasons into one week.
She’ll laugh so hard that
she’ll make the sun shine on Monday
that she’ll rain tears on Tuesday
that turns into snow on Wednesday
and she’ll start all over again on Thursday
while kids sled on melting snow on green grass
down the hill on Lincoln Drive--
an act of joyous surrender
and you unzip yourself like
the parka you wore for one day
but keep for all seasons.
National Poetry Month Day 21. Nature recycles herself here. Seriously. Don't get too comfortable with the weather.
Pagan Paul Apr 2017
She bestowed upon me her lacy favour,
     tying it about my lance,
     so my fortitude should not waver,
     and doubt lead me a merry dance.

She crowned me with a kiss as blessing,
     sealing it to my lips,
     with grace so soft and caressing,
     like a breeze touches sailing ships.

She gave to me her most cherished gift,
     surrendering up her chastity,
     with joy I feel my spirits lift,
     at the thought of her next to me.

She anointed her wish on my beating heart,
     so gently as to sleep,
     her private desires locked deep within,
     and secrets for me to keep.

© Pagan Paul (01/08/16)
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