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Poetic T Jun 2020
Weaved darkly within the veins of
the page,
          the ink bleed when
I read you
the last breath before papercutting
                    the last words from your


windpipe...
    
the ink just bleed on the page, smudging
          your last meaningful words.

Sorry I should have really removed
        my hand so you could scream..

But silence is bliss
and I you were a bleeder..
                 I had to wash you off me....

And that was a lot of soap...
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2020
When writing a name in a heart
I don't wish for love to start
Page after page fill up with rhyme
That's more likely to make them mine
Silly
VibeActivist Apr 2020
I need nothing more
(for you are everything I seek, darling)

I fear no fate
(for you are my fate,my love)

whatever the world has installed
(you'll be mine, I will be yours)

whatever lies people author
(I'd trust you with my heart and nothing less)

trust your secrets and heartaches with me
(I'd still love you with every atom of my being)

trust I'll be there when you don't ask
(for isn't that the love we signed up for)

fear not about my love
(for I'd love you in numberless forms and numberless times)

fear not about commitments
(for I'd love you with my words and actions)

this my love and my feelings
(I carry in my heart where you reside)
we have so many ways to tell somebody will love what they mean to us this poem just expressed my way
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The Composition of Shadows (I)
by Michael R. Burch

(for poets who write late at night / by monitor light)

We breathe and so we write; the night
hums softly its accompaniment.
Pale phosphors burn; the page we turn
leads onward, and we smile, content.

And what we mean we write to learn:
the vowels of love, the consonants’
strange golden weight, each plosive’s shape—
curved like the heart. Here, resonant,

sounds’ shadows mass beneath bright glass
like singing voles curled in a maze
of blank white space. We touch a face—
long-frozen words trapped in a glaze

that insulates our hearts. Nowhere
can love be found. Just shrieking air.

Published by The Lyric, Candelabrum, Triplopia, Romantics Quarterly, Iambs & Trochees, Hidden Treasures, ImageNation (UK), Yellow Bat Review, Poetry Life & Times, Vallance Review, Poetica Victorian. Keywords/Tags: writing, poetry, night, monitor, glass, phosphors, web, page, internet, online, social media, sound, files, white space
Zack Ripley Nov 2019
Putting the pencil to the page is like watching your favorite band live on stage.
Your heart starts pumping. And for a moment, you can forget all of your pressure. All your regret
Amanda Kay Burke Jan 2020
The secret to staying clean is stay away from ALL influences

As an artist I often turned to mind-altering substances to spark creativity
Knowing that inspiration is already hidden inside you somewhere is a great reason to stay above the influence

To keep sober you must rewrite every page
The script of your life
And find new material to rewrite with
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