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It is useless to look back,
and see how pretty and smart
you were.

You are still
pretty and smart.

You won't notice till...
the chimes strike past.

You won't see it till...
you are looking back.

You wont feel it till..
you are unhappy with
your present,
the future.

Looking back at the past.
Wasting time looking back
at the past.

When you could be
creating memories
to look back on...

or not.
Spent some time reading my old poems. Then realized I wasn't creating anything new.
Bullet 3d
I've fallen in before
I couldn't breathe beneath the ocean
Suffocated in lovey sea salt
Taste bouldering over my sense to see


I've fallen from high-lights
Grace lead me here to highlight
  Life above the surface
I, face to face with the Lord almighty


Clips of the past eclipsing my vision
Light-shows roads to heavens gates
Meteor showers shows stars die in pieces
Meters can't keep my time from ticking


On my back
To worry about


Nothing to look forward too
My past will be this worlds presents...
I don’t want to see anyone
Because I don’t want to talk
I’ve told my story enough
To those who’ve come on my walk

Am I scared of the judgements
that will come with their stares?
Or am I just sick of talking?
My voice is starting to ware
Am I afraid to stand up for myself?
Maybe I don’t know how

But maybe it’s all an illusion
For all there is is now
So perhaps I will go in
Confident in my now
And they will have no choice
But to say, “oh wow!
She really must be happy
She really must be fine
But if I will say anything
She’s really got it goin’ on”
jerelii 7d
here i am waiting for the flowers to bloom
waiting for the sun to come
waiting for the stars to fall
waiting for the time to pass slowly
waiting for the river to flow
waiting for the next song to play
waiting for the wind to whisper my ears
waiting for the moon that will eventually out there looking for me from a far away.
patience is a virtue
to learn to wait
and just let it slip the book
through pages of memories.
people that become more happiness.
when they laugh, tell stories, or cry.
they become real because of their pain and love.

December 2,2018
Meruem Dec 3
A girl slowly dancing on the pole;
I was not in the right position,
It was not the ideal place,
Something's wrong however we put it.

I still have the letter and postcards,
The PO receipt i keep it with me.
As I about to post this poem,
Am still hungover post-downtime.
There's so much time ahead of me. After it all, I need to focus on the present, as this will build my future. Padayon~
Caloris Dec 1
Life is a present and as such
It can be given and taken,
Yet never owed.
Analogy of life and a present.
Caloris Nov 30
I learn, therefore I have been.
I think, therefore I am.
I believe, therefore I will be.
This is a sandwich of René Descartes' "ego cogito, ergo sum".
marianne Nov 30
I wake and it’s here,
in my shallow breath
the cold rising—
fear is all fingers, cold boney fingers coiling
squeeze lungs twisting muscles
greedy morning glory fingers reach
and wring

I fear so much—
being too cold, too hot, too fat
too hungry
too broken, too wrong, too right
giving too little, too much
missing the point
I fear 2028
rich white men
on top
waters rising, babies crying
in closets
I fear death, but pain more, I fear death
but leaving more
heights and small spaces, I fear losing
my freedom and the freedom I’ve lost
I only have one pair of feet

I fear the future

I fear the future fear imagines—
weeping mothers stinking waters
broken earth, apocalyptic
winners and losers, alone
in brambles or white rooms
passed over by

       My eyes tune in
to shifting light

Fear is all cold fingers and high drama—
cracking knuckles, it writes its own story
always the same score, sly rascal
and grandiose,
end to its beginning

       Feet find the cold morning floor
my fingers know the way to kettle and pen
I’ll write a different ending
Because I'd rather live in hope than in fear.
Abigail Hobbs Nov 29
Oh sweet love of mine
Your warmth breath had me weak at the knees
as the cold air broke through the trees
Surrounded we were with nature
Tell me, who is your creator
You seem to be crafted from the fog that weaves between the pine
And I, the tree that roots itself here
and through all of time
May we become one
The clouds diffused the moonlight
I'll tell you time and time again we'll be alright
You ask only one thing
What are all of the markings for?
This is who I am, and all I've bore
Oh sweet love of mine
Take me by the roots
and release me from a past time
Thank you, everyone, for all of your love recently on my poems. It means the world to me. :)
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