kiran goswami Dec 2018
" A house on a hill,
  an indoor pool...
   a  cute pet dog
     And nature all around,
   Isn't that how you imagine your future? " She asked.
" Not without you " he smiled.
eng jin Nov 2018
I swim,
under the twilight sky,
heart pounding & arms paddling,
struggling to breathe,
yet I push on,
to reach the other wall.

I hear,
muffled splashes
across the lanes as swimmers glide by,
though I could hardly see,
yet I could feel,
one of them fills the pool.

I wonder,
why I press on,
for health or for heart?
by now legs are aching and arms are heavy,
yet it is a joy,
to be in my hiding place.
Johnny walker Nov 2018
Before my wife lost
her ability to walk
she could play mean
game of pool she
could bang those
***** down
Not bad at snooker
knocking the long
shots In miss those  
days so much wish
now I'd made more
of them
Helen could play a mean game of pool
and snooker long shots spot on
faeri Sep 2018
The way the surface of the water is frozen
calling for you to break its perfect state.
Crystal slate
easily fractured with the slightest touch.
Slowly ripples of different sizes make their way
across the liquid diamond
ending the tranquility it had.
Life's temporary stillness can be compared to that of a pool at midnight.
Cné Sep 2018
When summer ends and it’s fall time,
they'll be no floating with my wine.

No more upon the float I'll lie
amused by moon-lit clouds up high.

No more the current of the pool
adrift around the bank so cool.

No meditations in the night.
No solace, cloaked in inky sight.

And yet, t'is but a price I'll pay
to see an end to summer's sway.

My nightly swims, I gladly cease
to gain the autumn's cool release.

So, for the *****, I nightly glide.
But, friends in thee, I must confide...

I wait with glee for leaves to turn
and for wood smoke, begin to yearn.
In honor
of the last day
of Summer,
though in Texas,
it’s still hot.
Shofi Ahmed Sep 2018
The silent moon
over the old pond
is lost for words.
If only it could
describe the charm
mirroring a mirror
of ancient calm!
Isaac Aug 2018
If I versed *** in a game of pool,
Would his style of play be awkward or cool?
Would he miss some shots, just to be kind?
Or sink them all, leaving me behind?
When the game ends, would he leave the room bored?
Or stay back and help me move my skills forward?
Written 17 August 2018
Nesma Aug 2018
She leaves a note that she signed with her name although nobody else was there because he screamed the name of another woman while he was in her ****.
She left a note that she’s written in her bright red lipstick because he said it made her lips look like cherries, and her mother had taught her that the fastest road to a man’s heart is a good meal.
She leaves the note in her bright red lipstick because he didn’t compliment the dress she wore on her fragile body, the shoes she wore on her dainty feet, or the heart she wore on her sleeves;
he complimented the lipstick she wore as a note written on his bedroom mirror;
a mirror that extends from the coarse land of Persia to the frozen seas of the north pole.
What she likes the most about the note she left is that she covers a part of the mirror, and a mirror is neer a friend.

He takes a leap of faith and jumps headstrong into a relationship that he knows will drown him.
He was named a champion in the 2015 Olympiad for swimming;
he lost his golden medal but the whiplash on his heart when he delved firsthand into the waters will always remind him how salty it tasted.
He sinks into an abyss of intensity that he cannot dry out no matter how long he sits near the lonely candle next to Madonna’s portrait.
He soaks in the glistening sunlight; water was never his friend.

She brushes her hair every evening and every evening she reminds herself that she needs to brush off her father’s rejection.
He trains everyday and every day he reminds himself that his heart is also a muscle.
They do it in the dark because it’s easy to love another and scary to see yourself.
astraea Aug 2018
the first night, it was you.
there was no sky, and it was nothing.
but your name brought me to the edge.

the next night, it was the sky and the stars.
i didn’t think about you.
i was under the sky and in the water.
it had begun to grow cold,
and i had started to shiver.
but i was alone in the water.
i could lay on my back and i could see the stars.

a day later, i couldn’t not think about you.
i’m addicted to you.
the water was a cool blue and i imagined that you’d come with me.
see, the walk was really really long.
but i’d have liked it more if i’d held your hand.
i think the water would have been
something
if you’d laughed as the spray hit our faces.

your name seems to be my edge.
the only reason i’m a bit normal is you.
part of the reason i love is you.
my thoughts hit walls,
push these boundaries.

they were so carefully set up,
but not for you.
you were what i didn’t consider.

i didn’t consider where your name made me go.
i didn’t know how consuming this was.
i didn’t know that every view made me wonder what i would feel,
what i would feel if you were there.
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