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Brittany Ann Jan 2021
Sometimes, I fear that the passing of time

will be the ruin of all that makes up of me.

I hope not to be the consequence of

destruction by distraction-

fading away within the fleeting of life.

Sometimes, I fear my

responsibilities becoming like a weapon

for involuntary manslaughter.

I do not want each day to erode my soul to dust.

All of what I am

becoming the ground beneath

conformity.

I do not want hazy eyes in a dazed filled life,

each step I take almost simultaneously.

I do not wish the world to warp

my individuality.

I want to devote to my own

ideal of integrality.

And remember all of the

persistent passions

that have coursed relentlessly

through my veins,

morphing all that's evolved to me.
the stars have aligned within my bedroom ceiling
as every potential life of mine passes before dinner time
the luck I have to be so passionate of the paint on my canvas
and the way I flip my eggs in the morning
how to understand Fibonacci's sequence in the way of the art
but also in the way of where I place my keys

do you know what it is to feel so deeply?
about the light that strikes my porcelain heart so perfectly
but also the way my plant leaves shine in the window's glow

do you know what it feels like to have it all?
every single artisans gave me it all in one touch
I'm a wicked traveler of space and time
I would live a million lives if I could
it may be a blessing, but it may be a curse
because choosing one would be the saddest of it all
couldn't afford christmas gifts, so i wrote poems for my family. this one was for my sister. potential rough draft.
Faiq Arif Dec 2020
I have never felt like this before. Telling this story, without any lore.
No backstage, no lights, no music behind, just me and my monotony, gazing at the moon, letting it pass-by.
This sleepless night.

Even if I have given up all hope, I still want to fight. Against these odds, climbing up these ladders, looking up to the wandering skies.  

I have fell to the ground, numerous times, left with naught but dust to bite.

Wings clipped, spirits soaked in fire. Eyes dead, tired of these rants, these ironies without satire.  

Pick me up, even if my soul bears no weight. For I'm left with but a husk of a person, I once used to admire.

Lemme go, lemme reignite my passions. My heart and soul, lemme sing these songs, as I let it all go, set myself on fire.
arCamm Dec 2020
warmth, i spew to you,
with time, you must choose,
feed me fuel or let me die.


- a.r.Camm
Whether it's in our relationships, our jobs/careers, friendships, or within ourselves, the life of that flame is something that must be a priority. Given time, it'll dim and at other times we give a bit of it to someone/something else... in hopes that it'll give them light. At times we give someone/something else the gas tank... to see if it is worth saving to them...

Whatever the circumstance, be mindful of that flame. It is our ideas, emotions, effort... our everything. It is our lifeline...
She
She dreams of the ideal man,
   but the suitor idolizes death in his soulful slumber.
She takes care of herself,
   though she cannot bestow her beauty to impressionists.
She falls in love,
   yet her delusional passions seethe her in disarray.
She finds new friends,
   but a ******* of overzealous poison tarnishes the relationship.
She cooks for more than one;
   ghosts accompany the reserved empty chairs.
She re-models her home,
   driven to impress; however, she is the only one impressed.
She longs for attention,
   craving for a taste of wanting to be loved.
She is she,
   and she is her own canvas.
she only wanted to be loved for who she was ━ that was all this lovely, dear maiden requested amongst those who seek material value rather than marital values.
Anais Vionet Aug 2020
(each stanza is a haiku - I think I’m in a Haiku phase)*

I never think of
drinking tea - that's just not
me - but I like it

there are a thousand
things like that which define us
- our many small choices

Are our passions choices?
"Our wild passions instruct us"
- said wise Shakespeare.

I don't choose to
quicken my heart at the sight
of one special boy

so I'm not sure
how that works, the pushes and pulls
of attractions grab

But the effect stills
and taxes the heart like maple
syrup thickened blood
what quickens the heart? I don't think it's a choice.
Savio Fonseca Jun 2020
Tonight.... anoint My Heart,
with your
Moans and Whispers.
As I stimulate your Soul,
with My
Passions and Desires.
selina Jan 2020
It took a few years to find ourselves.
In that time, my hair grew out,
and your height grew tall.
We grew like sunflowers.

All the other girls wanted crowns,
along with a Prince Charming,
while I took up fencing, and learned
how to shoot a basketball properly.

You learned the arts, how to
play sharp staccatos and paint pastel skies,
while the boys your age were
breaking windows with baseballs.

Your performances stunned the crowds.
Your fingers moved mountains.
You came to my competitions.
My saber moved faster than light.

From a distance, was how we grew.
We were the sky and the sea,
watching each other from a distance.
So close, yet so far apart.
riccardo cravero Nov 2019
The Passions are not gone away,
But they are a bit sleepy now.
I am so tired
That I prefer Quiet to Joy,
And Calm to Enthusiasm.
I am not detached,
I  just have to be on my own
For some time.
Love has to lessen its intensity,
And so does Friendship.

I think I'll go on a holiday
From Reason and Theory:
Plain Common Sense
Is a good friend of yours,
Don't you know?
Empathy!
Better turn you off too,
For some time,
Some very long time
Of quiet On-my-ownness.

Language is tricky
When you become too serious
About what words mean.
Thoughts are like tiny fishes:
They flow aimlessy
And not everything
Has to be picked up.
Introspection is cool,
But Spontaneity makes
The world go round.

And you know what?
I am just satisfied
With my life
In low-cal version.
This is not
An appeal to moderation,
Nor an eulogy of apathy.
I am just saying
That happiness
Is a much softer pleasure
Than outbursts of joy
And hedonistic delight.

So sleep the passions of my life,
Calmly and softly.
And I watch them in awe.
Everything is so good,
When the Passions
Are not Gone away.
But they sleep so well.
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