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Skylark 12 Nov 2024
In sweat and blood they birthed the stones.
Their backs bent in a dimly lit choreography,  
they strained to hoist the ashlars into place.
Thirty-six years in a most sacred guild,
they each apprenticed the other.

Their aging bodies lust for sleep,
but it runs from them into the cold night.
Lying there, limbs entwined for warmth,
their calloused fingers touch scars,
which mark the years on their rounding frames.

They remember the works of their labors.
The six structures on which they’ve toiled.
Their six children raised with hope.
The six cathedrals in whom they pray,
both their memories and Christ will dwell.
Kitty Downing Nov 2024
I've always been soothed
By the sound of the sea
You both arrived with waves of pain
And crashing of water
Perhaps that's why I'm soothed
By the two of you

The steady blink of a lighthouse
Anchored to the bed
Until you had to come out
A knife to the sand dune of my belly
I couldn't feel my legs
But I could feel you

A tiny hand, a star fish over my heart
Holding on as we were cast adrift
To navigate unchartered waters
Sometimes it felt like we were going under
But you were always there on my chest
The swell of the waves
Up, down, up, down

It seems a life time ago
Those stormy nights, milk drunk, lost
We've built castles, moats and skimmed stones
I have always been soothed by the sound of the sea
And I hope that the two of you
Will always be soothed
By me
thyreez-thy Mar 2024
Oh little Caterpillar, 10 years old
Yet has a soul of solid gold
How can such a young being be such a joy
A spirit so welcoming, in a life you enjoy

Such a sad backstory yet you stand your grounds
Such a wonderful personality, your kindness knows no bounds
How fitting a cold, withered tree, was privileged enough to host such a loving caterpillar
And said tree also hopes to see her grow into a giant pillar
Your wonders run deeper than the orange river

To keep you in a jar would squander your abilities
To lead you too far would hinder your quality
You lead your life to your very own melody
To a song I learnt of too late, which led to a self made tragedy

You will become a butterfly, I know this to be true
Because you already have great morals, and a loving family too
I miss the little caterpillar that told me of her future
And I thank the heavens for the pleasure to have known her
Standing and hoping another fated meeting would occur

Alas, little caterpillar, you are but only a child
That had the ability to widen my smile
For 10 months I lacked joy, and your presence awoke my spirit
You left all too soon, before my heart and words could erupt

I come to wonder what happened to that little caterpillar
And if she ever contemplates the time we had together
Will the butterfly see me as nostalgia or a distant memory?
Will I be the oak tree of destiny, or just ancient history?
A girl I met a few months back in December of 2023, She had inspired me to live my life to the fullest. A kid I wish to truly see make it in life and have the same joy I did when spending time with her.
Zywa Dec 2023
The *** Ed booklet:

man and woman hand in hand --


keeping their distance.
Poem "At the River" (2009, Louise Glück)

Collection "Loves Tricks Gains Pains in the 0s"
You are the diseased soil in which these doomed seeds were sown,

You are the poison tree from which these evil apples dropped,

And you are the acid rain that raises the earthworms from their
underground abodes
and eats

eats

eats away.
Today I turn 18.
Elizabeth Kelly Nov 2023
There’s something so comforting
In trading in everything
The taking and giving
Of motherhood

What does it mean to be whole?
Shifting your insides around an additional soul?
The pain and the toll
Of motherhood

How to express
The vastness of universes
Alongside the mundane  
Of getting dressed in the morning?

There’s something so absolute
Something so boundlessly true
In the brown of the root and the red of the fruit
In the green of the shoots
Of motherhood
Zywa Sep 2023
We are home, we will

wait for you, yes, they once have --


said that to me too.
"Het tankstation op de route" - 2 ("The filling station on the route" - 2, 2013, Jan Baeke)

Collection "Stall"
Zywa Aug 2023
Mama keeps chasing

me, I give me the advice --


she would have given.
Poem "Moeder" ("Mother", 2022, Ester Naomi Perquin) --- Collection "On the fly"
Zywa Aug 2023
Every time I think

what my mother would have said --


Yet, do I know her?
Poem "Moeder" ("Mother", 2022, Ester Naomi Perquin)

Collection "On the fly"
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