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Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2020
If this is at all possible
Take time out of day to appreciate the little things

A little gratitude goes a very long way

Reason to celebrate can be found
In the ******* situations

I know life is difficult
It is not impossible

Do not know what the future has in store but the one thing I can always foresee is laughter

Is this a premonition?
If you don't take life for granted your eyes will be opened to all the amazing possibilities hidden around you
Alek Mielnikow Nov 2020
Is that danger in the distance?
Or do my eyes deceive?


Like dark clouds
gathering above mountains.
Like how the young see their futures.

(Though it's not like the world hasn't been ending
this entire time.

In billions of years the sun will explode.
In hundreds, our planet will be just dust and stone,
and the bones of industry.
And at my rate
I'll self-destruct by sixty years of age.

But) what is this thing that sticks and stings
and irks
like a mirage?

Not the flavor of fingers dipped in deliciousness.
Not the freshness of a newborn babe.
Not the scent of flowers.
Not feet in a hot bath.
Not fumbling a lovers face,
frolicking through foxglove fields,
flitting a fiery frevo,
finishing first.

none of that.

It's not a thing,
but a feeling.


And it sticks and stings
and irks,
like a mirage.

by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet
I have returned.

Make sure to follow my profile to keep up with my new works. For extras, please check out my Instagram, @alekthepoet
Ryan Seth Cole Oct 2020
I can see the road ahead of me. I try to make adjustments so I can be ready. I breathe slower to get a fast beating heart steady.

The rocks slide sweeping the ground from beneath me; carring me over a tune in the pattering of my fingers.

The water in the poison dollutes the pain from the stingers.
The pace of the tone hits a pause followed by pounding of the keys dangaling from theyre stringers.

I am unequivacly astonished by the clarity of my sight in the breath of the moments leading after. My body tenses up. After all who could be prepared for this fall.  I am getting to the point. Im not trying to pad the time or trying to stall.

I have came so far. So I can again. But this is not some story..My life could seriously end. I go back and forth until I come back to the moment that lead me to where and when.

Head first, I going over the deep end. I am tip towing over the glass shards of where I began.

Flashes of memories and aspiration from yearning within. Zero to sixty taking my second, third and fourth chances over and failing again.
Suspended in the air and this is what I bargain with.

The moment ends and all the noise and stimulation comes to a sudden end. I notice I am still in my car on the shoulder with hazards blinking. Did I black out again?

The road ahead me washes away collapsing to a crack several feet away.
I am still here.
Where do I even begin?

Premonition sci-fi short series
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
by Michael R. Burch

Now the evening has come to a close and the party is over ...
we stand in the doorway and watch as they go—
each stranger, each acquaintance, each unembraceable lover.  

They walk to their cars and they laugh as they go,
though we know their bright laughter’s the wine ...
then they pause at the road where the dark asphalt flows
endlessly on toward Zion ...

and they kiss one another as though they were friends,
and they promise to meet again “soon” ...
but the rivers of Jordan roll on without end,
and the mockingbird calls to the moon ...

and the katydids climb up the cropped hanging vines,
and the crickets chirp on out of tune ...
and their shadows, defined by the cryptic starlight,
seem spirits torn loose from their tombs.

And I know their brief lives are just eddies in time,
that their words are unreadable runes
unlikely to stand in this waterlogged land
when their corpses lie ravaged and ruined ...

You take my clenched fist and you give it a kiss
as though it’s something to be loved,
and the tears fill your eyes, outshining the night
and all the stars ringed high above ...

and you whisper, "It's time that we went back inside;
if you'd like, we can sit and just talk for a while."
And the hope in your eyes burns too deep, so I lie
and I say, "Yes, I would," to your small, troubled smile.

I vividly remember writing this poem after an office party the year I co-oped with AT&T (at that time the largest company in the world, with a lot of office parties). This was after my sophomore year in college, making me around 20 years old. The poem is “true” except that I was not the host because the party was at the house of one of the managers. Nor was I dating anyone seriously at the time.

Keywords/Tags: premonition, foreboding, time, loss, death, office party, wine, laughter, shadows
Violet Smithe Mar 2020
When I first learned of color,
I entered a world of vivid possibilities.

When I heard my first sound,
I was no longer at a loss of words.

In the beginning,
Never once did I imagine the day
When it would all start to fade.

As the years past,
The world lost its shimmer.

No longer were the roses as red
Or the words on a page as crisp.

No longer was thunder's clap as loud
Or song of the wind as melodious.

Never once did I imagine
a gift once gained
would be stolen away.
Usama Firdous Feb 2020
If only it is meant to happen

No persuasion will bring a hindrance.

Pain is subjective, sorrows are possessed

Light aches my eyes, in the dark I am depressed

Insomnia bothers me, maybe I should curse it.

I should not swallow the bitter, maybe just spit.

It wasn’t a matter of months, but my wishes took so long

Thoughts beyond west of the west but emotions don’t go so long

In spite of respite, desolate notions are still popping

Worst is to happen, nothing is for stopping.
see me here as well.
Ritz Writes Dec 2019
Finding the right words to articulate our fragmented memories, stained ink and silence to fill the void of your absence;
We became the passive voice of our generation who cannot muster up the courage.
The generation who couldn't face to face challenge the odds and ask you to stop and simply utter, "Stay".
Stay so that we can face the music together.
Stay because it hurts without you.
Stay because it challenges me to fight my battle against the crowd in proving out that
I'll stand by you.
Stay because you're the hand I'd love to hold amidst the crowd.
But silently, the meek voice which couldn't make the right choice,
Still struggling to find terms and conditions in order to address the wound we are silently suffering; deep down where no could see,
How painful it could be!
The ‘untranslatable’ Japanese phrase ‘Koi No Yokan’ is ‘the premonition of love’. Have you ever encountered meeting a person, the calm to your storm and the home you wanna always run to.
Dedicated to someone I've encountered, yet I am afraid to lose and still bottling up my feelings.
Cedric Oct 2019
I’ve submitted my applications.
To be the proxy if need be.
You’ve read my papers;
The clause of letting go,
It is set in stone hearts.

You’ve been left alone and hurting,
I’ve become the proxy for him.
The bandaid over your wound,
To be discarded once healed.

When will you fire me?
Setting me ablaze by losing my job?
When will I be thrown?
Discarded once my purpose is served?

I have had a premonition,
That things will slowly fall into place.
I will be left alone once more,
After my purpose is done.

I’ve served many masters,
All of which are of my choosing.
I’ve been let go before,
After my time has been reached.

It’s normal for me to be forgotten,
Left rotting six-feet beneath.
I have died a thousand deaths,
All to save those in need.

I am dedicated to this unlife,
Of sacrifice and giving everything.
It is my purpose and duty,
To give my life up for others.

Despite the pain and suffering,
Despite chipping away at my heart,
Despite depleting my soul,
I will give and give and give.

All in the spirit of love,
All in the hope of receiving it,
All in the faith of enduring it,
All in the love of sacrifice.

I’m just a proxy,
To replace those who’re lost.
My papers are here,
When will my contract end?
I think it will soon enough.
A poem of being the person that’s always there for others. For us who are left alone after being of no more use. We are the tools at your disposal, the means to an end. No longer human, dedicated to serve.
Rafael Melendez Sep 2019
All my old writing was as accurate as premonition, as if I wanted a tragedy to JOLT ME from my sleep.

The silver lining is I suppose I got what I wanted,
it just wasn't the tragic self harm I dreamed of.
More like a tragic mistake that destroyed the boy I once was, and the girl I once knew.
Premonitions are old tales now, time keeps on moving.
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